Part 7

Whisky Willie had one leg over the windowsill. Pinky flung the length of pipe. He flung it backhanded and it caught Willie on the shoulder as he dived into the room, falling flat. The pipe crashed to the floor and rolled toward Pinky, who scrambled after it. Willie reached a chair, flung it against Pinky's shins, and bounced to his feet. Pinky stumbled forward, reached for the pipe. Before he could get his balance, Willie was on him, knocking the pipe aside and aiming a blow at Pinky's head with the only weapon he carried. The bottle of lemon pop caught Pinky neatly behind the ear and dropped him like a bundle of rags.

XV

Judge Badger, who kept the general store and acted as town magistrate on the side, was tall, bespectacled, and busy-browed. He gave the impression of being a thoughtful and scholarly man, which he was not. He was, however, reasonably honest. Consequently, as Mr. Jay pointed out to Pete Madrid, he was not to be trusted. He was to be managed rather than conspired with.

This morning he entered the small townhouse courtroom and took his seat with great dignity. He surveyed the half dozen persons present and addressed himself to the marshal.

"Pete, what in tunket is this all about?"

"The marshal's office is guilty of an embarrassing mistake," Madrid said, reciting the words as if he had memorized them carefully. "As you know, I have an inexperienced deputy. Last night he...."

"If you made a mistake why don't you correct it?" the judge demanded. "Why waste the time of this court?"

Madrid pointed at Willie with his thumb. "Because this mule-head won't admit it. He insists on this hearing."

The judge turned sternly to Willie.

"I want P-Pinky B-Bronklin ch-charged and t-tried," Willie said.

"Charged with what?"

Willie told what had happened the night before. The judge asked a question or two and then told Pinky to tell his side of it.

Protesting that he was in this trouble because of his kindness to a drunk, Pinky rattled off a remarkable story. When he went up to his room after closing the saloon, he said, he had forgotten about O'Hara's being there. He had maybe had a nip too much himself, he admitted, and he had been given a scare by something or somebody crawling around in the dark. He had grabbed a length of pipe which happened to be handy and had cautiously approached the crawler, who was now lying still. Just then Willie had come through the window.

"There were t-two l-lamps burning in that room," Willie put in.

"You're a liar!" Pinky said.

"Now, now, now!" Judge Badger said. "We won't have any more of that."

"You're another," Willie said.

The judge struck an angry blow with the wooden nutcracker he used for a gavel. He appraised Willie witheringly, then he asked quietly if Willie had any concrete evidence that a crime had been committed, and if so, what it was.

Willie had brought Vickers' doctor to the courtroom, and he now stepped forward and said that in his opinion O'Hara who was too sick to appear, had been drugged. He couldn't say for sure what the drug was.

The judge asked a few more questions and then pointed out that there was no evidence that the drug had been administered in the Pink Lady and no grounds for a charge against Pinky.

"Howsoever," he said, "surreptitious administration of drugs is a serious offense, and this court directs the marshal's office to further investigate this matter with a view to discovery of guilty party or parties. Upon presentation of evidence that will warrant a bill of indictment, this court will order the arrest of said guilty party and he will be taken to Ellensburg and the matter will be prosecuted in district court."

Willie left the courtroom with anger a seething molten pressure in him. He trudged toward the main street beside the doctor.

"The marshal cooked your goose at the very beginning when he told the judge you'd made a mistake," the doctor said. "If he'd backed you up, the judge might have agreed to a charge."

"I kn-know," Willie said bitterly. "They're all in together."

Pinky and the marshal reached the street ahead of them, Pinky angling off toward the Pink Lady and Madrid going into the hotel. It was the second time that morning that he had visited the hotel.

Willie went to his room and stretched out on the bed. After a few minutes, Madrid barged in without knocking. Willie didn't move from the bed.

"All right, cowboy," Madrid said. "I'll take that badge."

Willie unpinned it and handed it over. Madrid stuffed it into the pocket of his bright blue shirt.

"You're all in together," Willie said. "You're a b-bunch of crooks in together."

"Now don't get me mad," Madrid said. "You're getting out of this lucky. Get over and get your pay from Sam Lester. Then get your tail out of town. Today."

Willie said nothing. Madrid glared and said, "Do you understand that? Today."

Willie nodded.

"If you aren't gone by dark, you'll get hurt. Hurt bad." Madrid turned on his heel and went out.

After a while Willie got up, walked to the townhouse, and knocked on the door of Sam Lester's office. Sam seemed to be expecting him. He plunked a little pile of gold and silver on his desk.

"Sixty-six dollars," he said. "That includes a full day's pay for today. Sign this, please."

While Willie was signing the receipt, Sam added a double eagle to the pile of money. "I understand you're leaving town," he said. "This is for traveling expenses."

Willie silently pocketed the money. He left the building and walked around back to Persia's kitchen. Stella was dividing a batch of bread dough into loaves and putting it into pans. He asked if Miss Persia was in, and Stella said she was in the parlor.

Willie found her seated at the secretary. "I been f-fired," he said.

"I'm sorry," Persia said. "But there's nothing I can do, Willie. You made a serious mistake."

"You're in it, t-too! You're all in t-together!"

"Would you like a letter of recommendation?" Persia said. "I'd be glad to give you one. It might help you get another job."

"I hoped you'd l-listen to my s-side of the s-story," Willie said.

"Willie, you accused a member of the town council of a serious crime without one speck of evidence. I'm sure it was an honest mistake, but...."

Willie put his back to her and walked out. Stella offered him a cup of coffee and a piece of pie, and he ate silently, thanked her, and left.

He marched straight across town and took the road to Vickers' camp.

XVI

They had nothing to eat except the can of beans Muckamuck Charlie had pocketed, some rock-hard biscuits from Tesno's saddlebags, and a few trout snagged with a hook made from a horseshoe nail. Palma's trail circled, zigzagged, doubled back. Surprisingly, he made no attempt to ambush them--although they were slowed again and again as they made roundabout approaches to places where he might be lying in wait. Finally, it seemed a safe conclusion that he had used up his ammunition sniping at horses and the boiler crew.

On the afternoon of the second day, Charlie announced that Palma had doubled back toward the road. He had entered a deep, cliff-guarded valley that led nowhere else, Charlie said.

Tesno felt a little stab of alarm. Could Palma plan to take another crack at the boiler? Alone and without ammunition?

Charlie didn't think this likely. "Hit road high up now," he said. "Boiler _siah_. Far away."

Still, the possibility couldn't be ignored. Tesno decided that they would graze the horses for an hour and then ride all night.

They came upon the road at midmorning. They had given up trying to follow Palma's trail; they didn't know if he was still ahead of them or if they had passed him in the night. Since Charlie knew Palma by sight, Tesno sent him on up to Tunneltown.

"If he shows up there, go see Ben Vickers," Tesno said. "Vickers. Nobody else. He'll get word to me."

He turned his tired horse down-grade as Charlie jogged off in the other direction. He came upon the boiler two hours later, only a few miles above Cle Elum. It was pulled off the road preparatory to another haul by block and tackle. It had made only three miles the day before, Rejack reported, and he guessed that was going to be about the average.

"You look like you need a meal and a bed," he told Tesno.

"The meal will help," Tesno said.

He felt as if he were in danger of dropping in his tracks, but he couldn't sleep--not yet. Even if Palma weren't lurking in the woods, waiting his chance, there was the possibility that he would come riding boldly down the road on his way to Ellensburg, believing himself still ahead of Tesno. Of course, he might already have done that....

A few minutes later, Tesno got a chance to check this latter possibility. He was eating a plate of beans at the cook wagon when Whisky Willie Silverknife came riding up the road from the direction of Ellensburg. Tesno hailed him, and he rode over, not getting out of the saddle.

"I'm in a huh-hurry," he said. He was red-eyed and looked as sleepy as Tesno felt. Three pairs of handcuffs dangled from his saddlehorn.

Tesno asked if he had met anyone on the road who might be Palma. "I don't rightly know what he looks like," Tesno said. "He's dressed like a cowhand, and he might be wounded. Nothing very serious, but he might have a bandaged arm, something like that."

Willie hadn't seen him.

"What are the handcuffs for?" Tesno asked. "Where have you been?"

"I'm m-mad," Willie said. "M-Madrid fired me."

"You're still wearing a badge."

"T-take a g-good look at it. It's a county deputy's badge. Mr. Vickers gave me a letter to the sheriff, and I rode down and g-got s-sworn in this morning."

"And you're going back and get even. Is that it?"

"I'm going to close that Pink Lady up tight. I'm going to send Pinky to p-prison. If Miss P-Persia gets hurt, too, I c-can't help it. She wouldn't b-back me up."

"Willie, you get off that horse and have some food," Tesno said. "I want to hear about this."

Willie sullenly dismounted and accepted a plate of beans. He gave Tesno an account of his rescue of O'Hara, the hearing before Judge Badger, his appeal to Persia. He pulled a folded paper from a hip pocket and waved it in Tesno's face.

"This is a wuh-huh-warrant for Pinky Bronklin's arrest, issued by the district court."

Tesno took the warrant and unfolded it. Willie produced an inch-thick bundle of similar papers from the other hip pocket.

"I got some m-more d-documents," Willie said. "Closing orders, warrants, subpoenas. Some of them are b-blank. The district attorney said to fill them in ac-c-cording to my j-judgment."

Tesno muttered an exclamation as he read the warrant. "Looks like you've got Pinky dead to rights," he said. "This charges him with illegal possession of drugs, illegal administration of drugs, operating a gambling hall.... That must have been some letter Ben wrote!"

"The p-people down in Ellensburg are beg-g-ginning to take an interest in Tunneltown," Willie said. "Teamsters and drummers and such have been complaining."

"How do you figure to prove this drug charge?"

"J-jail Pinky, then search the place. I'll take Vickers' doctor with me. Ch-chances are we'll find the kn-knockout drops."

"Willie, you wait till I get back there before you start closing saloons," Tesno said.

"N-not much. I figure to d-do it tonight. I'm m-m-mad."

"You know that Persia is the principal owner of the Pink Lady?"

"I can't help that. It's a rotten p-place and I'm going to sh-shut it up."

"Damned if I don't believe you're a bluenose," Tesno said. He said it jovially; then reproach crept into his voice. "Damn it, Willie, it's not a small thing to sit in judgment of others. You're mad. You've got yourself some official backing. But you've no right to be high-handed."

"My g-god! That from you?"

"From me," Tesno said.

"You t-took it on yourself to judge everything and everybody in Tunneltown the day you arrived."

"I judged nobody," Tesno said. "I was just doing a job for pay."

"You said this was a rotten town preying on Vickers' c-crew. You even jailed the marshal. You said the hell with authority. Then Miss Persia wrapped you around her f-finger like a Christmas ribbon. N-now you're in with the rest of them!"

"The town council agreed to go along with me, Willie. That changed things."

"M-maybe you don't know it," Willie said. "B-but it was the other w-way around. Miss Persia rustled her skirts at you and you w-went along with the town."

"We'll leave Persia out of this," Tesno said with a steel edge of anger in his voice.

"We c-can't--even if you beat the peewallopus out of me. I g-guess you could do it easy enough. You're tougher than anybody I kn-know." Willie laid his plate on the tailgate and looked Tesno squarely in the eye. "And you've g-got no more spine than a rag d-doll!"

He put his back to Tesno, caught up his reins, and swung into the saddle. He poised a rein end above his horse's rump and said, "I'm m-mad. M-maybe I didn't m-mean all that."

Tesno wanted to tell him to come back and finish his dinner. Instead, he found himself saying gruffly, "You meant it. And be damned to you."

The handcuffs hanging from Willie's saddlehorn clinked dully as he pivoted the horse and headed back to the road at a trot.

An hour later the boiler had been inched up the hillside and was back on the road. Rejack called a halt just above a small bridge, and the crew clustered around the cook wagon for a late dinner. Something about the bridge interested Tesno; then suddenly he recognized it. He turned his horse up the creek and followed it to the grassy place where he had nooned on his first trip to Tunneltown, the place where Willie had surprised him.

He got off his horse and washed his face in the chill, singing water. He stretched out in the soft grass then, knowing that he had to sleep if only for an hour. Yet sleep did not come at once, and he lay staring at a ragged patch of sky.

_I can stay till this boiler gets up to the job_, he thought. _I can do that much for Ben. Then there's nothing to do but quit. I'm finished as a troublebuster. Willie made me see that clearly enough._

He had never really believed in the railroad; but he had taken his living from it, and he had given what it asked in return.

Willie had said he was tough. _I've made a profession of toughness, he thought, but I've made it an honest profession. I've laid my life on the line to do what I've been paid to do. That's all I've ever been, an honest tough. It wasn't much, but it was something. Now I am a man in love. And I am nothing at all._

There was still the ranch he had dreamed of for so long--or was there? Persia had spoiled that for him, he realized. In spite of her show of interest, she would want no part of the modest spread he would have, of the years of frugal living while he built up a herd. No, there was not even that now. There was only the soft dream of a lovely woman whose eager tenderness absorbed a man ... and left him nothing of himself.

It was tenderness itself that was his enemy, he thought. He had toughened the shell around his loneliness to the point of brittleness; he had made himself defenseless against love for a woman when it had finally come to him....

He slept and woke and overtook the boiler a mile on its way. It was in little danger, he judged, as long as it was rolling along the road. And after another short pulley haul had been made with no attempt at interference, he decided that Palma probably was not in the vicinity.

That night he rolled up in his blankets under the wagon with the great weight of the boiler above him. He slept deeply and was wakened by one of the guards shining a lantern in his face. A messenger had arrived with a note from Ben Vickers:

_Jack_

_Some drunken Indian says I got to get a message to you, I can't make out why. Something to do with a man named Palma._

XVII

Persia Parker sat in her usual place at the head of the council table and listened demurely while Sam Lester outlined a plan for the town to issue scrip. She didn't know if the plan had originated with him or with Mr. Jay. She didn't thoroughly understand it, but Sam had assured her that there would be considerable advantage in it, if it was done right.

When Sam had finished speaking, she turned the meeting over to him and left the room. This had been agreed on beforehand--there seemed to be certain hidden profits in the plan that were best discussed in her absence.

She walked along the long hall and entered her parlor, halting in surprise as a man rose slowly from the sofa.

He was stocky, brute-faced, and wore a pointed blond mustache and several days growth of pale stubble. He was dirty and looked exhausted. There was a large dark stain on his jeans--a bloodstain. She felt a little stab of panic.

"There's a meeting in there," he said, gesturing with his hat toward the other part of the building. "The door was open and I couldn't get past to Lester's rooms, so I come in here."

She recognized him now as one of the pair who had hidden in Sam's rooms a few days ago. She had taken food up to them.

"I got a bullet scratch on my leg," he said. "It wouldn't amount to nothing if it had been took care of, but I been on the run three days. It's got to be dressed. I got to have some food."

He sank down heavily. A blood-stained bandage showed through a tear in the faded cloth of his jeans. He would get the sofa dirty, she thought, and she frowned her annoyance.

"I'll go back to the meeting and close the door so you can get up to Sam's quarters," she said.

"My horse has got to be took care of. He's out back."

"Tell Sam about it." She turned back toward the hall.

"It's got to be done quick. I got two men on my tail."

"_Two_ men?"

"I take one to be a Injun, the other Vickers' troublebuster."

* * * * *

Whisky Willie reached Tunneltown shortly after dark. He left his horse at the livery, unhooked the handcuffs from his saddle and walked stiffly to the marshal's office.

Madrid was at his desk behind an oil can and a mound of rags, cleaning his revolver. He leaped to his feet as Willie walked in and dumped the handcuffs on the desk.

"I told you, cowboy," Madrid said, swallowing his amazement. "I warned you."

"This is a c-c-county badge I'm wearing," Willie said.

Madrid gaped at the badge. "What the hell are you trying to pull?"

Willie drew the stack of papers from his hip pocket, selected one and slapped it on the desk. "That's the document that goes with the badge, Marshal. You better read it. The sheriff of Kittitas County requests that you give me the use of your jail and your c-co-operation."

Madrid made a shaky try at seeming amused. "You really pulled this off, kid?"

"You know what c-co-operation means? It means you try to interfere j-just once and I'll jail you like T-Tesno did."

Madrid slid shells into his revolver and dropped it into his holster. Grabbing his hat from a peg in the wall, he left the office without another word. Willie watched him from the doorway till he entered the hotel, then followed.

When Willie entered the lobby, it was empty except for the clerk, who was sorting mail.

"Where d-did the m-marshal go?" Willie demanded.

"I thought you got f-f-fired," the clerk said insolently.

Willie picked up an inkwell and smashed it on the floor at the clerk's feet. The clerk opened his mouth in outrage, but he saw Willie's hard little black eyes and said nothing at all.

"I asked a q-qu-question," Willie said. "I want a b-better answer."

"Third floor, I guess. That's where he usually goes."

"Who's on the th-third floor?"

The clerk consulted a chart. "Jackson, Dockeray, Smith, Jay, Lewis, Mann, Parce, Oliver...."

"Who's permanent?"

"Mr. Jay keeps his rooms on a monthly basis. He's the only one on that floor who does."

"Th-thanks."

Willie marched out of the hotel and made straight for the Pink Lady. Pinky Bronklin, who was working the far end of the bar, called loudly to the barkeep who stepped up to serve Willie.

"Tell him we don't serve Injuns!"

"You an Injun?" the barkeep said and immediately moved away.

Feeling the eyes of the crowd center on him, Willie pushed away from the bar and walked down to where Pinky was.

"Get the hell out of my place," Pinky said.

"T-take a good l-look at my badge," Willie said. "You're t-talking to a county deputy."

Pinky scowled at the badge. His eyes lifted to Willie's face. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and abruptly turned his back.

Willie moved up the bar, pulled the wad of papers from his pocket, and threw one of these on the bar with a slap that brought Pinky around.

"The Pink Lady is closed as of right now!" Willie proclaimed. "Everybody out!"

Pinky unfolded the paper and dropped it like something hot. He motioned to the barkeep nearest the door. "Get Madrid here! Quick!"

"B-bring Mr. Jay with him," Willie said.

Pinky gave Willie a sick, sagging stare. Willie began to herd customers into the street. Two minutes later the place was empty except for Pinky, one barkeep, and the dealers. Willie waited while Pinky checked in the cash and stowed it into the safe. Then he dismissed everybody except Pinky.

"J-jail for you t-tonight. T-tomorrow I'm taking you to Ellensburg."

He marched the saloonkeeper into the marshal's office, finding that Madrid hadn't returned. He locked him into the cell, pocketed the key, and returned to the street.

A weariness rose in him now. The worst was over, he guessed. In the morning, he would take Vickers' doctor to the Pink Lady and they would search it for knockout drops....

Something moved against the dark wall ahead of him. He stopped stark still. A man stepped out of the shadows, staggering a little. Willie brushed past, smelling whisky; then he whirled in surprise at hearing himself addressed in the Yakima tongue.

"It is Silverknife, the grandson of my mother's brother."

Willie peered closely at the dark face. He, too, spoke in Yakima, stuttering not nearly so badly as he did in English.

"It is Red Iron of the Kilickitats. He sees better in the darkness than I, even when he is drunk."

Muckamuck Charlie touched Willie's badge admiringly. "It seems you have become a _tyee_ among the white men. But then you have their blood."

"What are you doing here?" Willie asked.

"I am to be given _chikamin_ for watching a man...."

Willie listened tensely while Charlie explained about being hired by Tesno, their pursuit of Palma, and his coming alone to Tunneltown. Charlie had taken it upon himself to examine the hoofs of all the horses in the livery barn, and he had found the animal whose shoe marks he had been following for three days. So Palma was here, and Charlie had been watching the street for him. He had discovered a place where an Indian could buy whisky, so he had been able to keep his stomach warm while he watched.

"Did you ask the man at the livery about the horse?" Willie said.

"It was not brought in by Palma but by a _tyee_ of the town who lives in the big house with two doors. The one called Sam Lester. You got whisky?"

Willie took him to a restaurant and bought him a meal, tapping his badge when the waitress protested about serving Indians. Charley said he would sleep in the livery barn, where he could keep an eye on the horse. Reluctantly, Willie lent him a dollar for a stomach-warmer.

Willie went to his room and crawled into his sagging cot. He sank almost at once into thick slumber. The door to his room was without a lock, and he did not hear it open. Nor was he disturbed by the dark, cat-careful figure that stole about the room.

When he woke at daylight, his badge was missing--along with his precious stack of court papers.

He went at once to the marshal's office and found it deserted. The cell door stood open. Its padlock--picked or forced--lay on the floor. Pinky Bronklin was gone.