Part 9

He searched the ground, examined the guns. It looked as if one of the prisoners had had a hidden gun. He had pulled it and shot Willie, who had lived long enough to kill them both. That was how it looked, Tesno thought, but that wasn't how it was. There were three empty shells in the two guns. He had heard six shots.

He spent another half hour at the scene, studying it, learning little from the hodgepodge of tracks but fixing every detail in his mind. A train of freight wagons came lumbering along the road then, bound for Tunneltown. The crew found tarpaulins in which to wrap the bodies and stowed them on top of their loads.

When Tesno asked if they had met anyone within the last few miles, several of the drivers shook their heads. Then one remembered.

"Just an Injun," he said. "Old Muckamuck Charlie who works at the Cle Elum mill."

XXI

Tesno herded the riderless horses through town to the livery barn. He briefly questioned the attendant, then rode back down the street. He intended to go at once to Vickers' camp; but in front of the marshal's office, a thing happened that changed his mind.

The freighters were unloading the canvas-shrouded bodies here, carrying them into the office. A little crowd was gathering on the walk, and Madrid stood at the front of it. Tesno maneuvered his horse between wagons and stopped directly before the marshal. Silence washed over the crowd. For a moment neither man spoke. Then Tesno said, "I found the bodies."

"Why tell me?" Madrid said. "It didn't happen in my jurisdiction."

"Not interested?"

Madrid shrugged. "It's all plain enough. One of the prisoners had a gun. They shot it out. They--"

Mr. Jay stepped out of the crowd. He touched Madrid's elbow without looking at him, and the marshal fell silent.

"Is that what it looked like to you, Mr. Tesno?" Mr. Jay asked.

"No."

"Mr. Tesno I have been asked to run for mayor of this town." Mr. Jay raised his voice for the crowd. "Before I accept, I shall visit Ellensburg and assure myself of the support and the co-operation of the authorities there. I should like to be able to give them the facts about this tragedy. Will you step into the marshal's office and tell me everything you know?"

"It was an ambush. That's all I'll say now."

"Can you prove that, Mr. Tesno?"

"When the time comes, Mr. Jay."

"I was under the impression that you wanted to give the marshal details."

"I wanted to see if he was interested," Tesno said. "He wasn't."

Mr. Jay threw back his head so that his trim little beard seemed to be pointed up at Tesno. There were hollow circles about his eyes, and Tesno thought that the brilliance in them was not entirely the result of emotion. He realized suddenly that the man was under a strain that amounted to illness. Yet his brazen assurance was a formidable thing.

"I don't understand your hostility, sir," Mr. Jay said.

"Willie Silverknife is dead, Mr. Jay. The men who killed him will answer to me."

Mr. Jay glared. "Did _you_ kill him, Mr. Tesno?"

You had to give the man credit. All he had left was a desperate bluff--and a steely confidence in himself.

"You know better," Tesno said.

"My information is that this man Palma tried to wreck Vickers' boiler a few days ago," Mr. Jay said loudly. "You killed his partner. You were trailing him. You and Pinky Bronklin were old enemies. Willie Silverknife wanted these men alive. Did you want them dead, Mr. Tesno?"

"I'll have my proof when I need it," Tesno muttered.

"I have no authority yet," Mr. Jay went on. "But let me warn you. Keep out of the town and its affairs. If I hear of any more of your blustering and bullying here, I'll insist that the marshal stop it."

Tesno grinned and gave a little toss of his head. He understood that Mr. Jay was offering a challenge rather than a warning.

"I'm going to close your town down tight, Mr. Jay," he said.

He backed his horse from between the wagons and jogged down the street to the Silver Slipper. He tied the horse and went in, knowing that Madrid and Jay were watching.

The proprietor, who was a member of the town council, was sitting in a poker game. Tesno stood behind him till a hand was finished.

"You want something?" the saloonkeeper asked testily. He was a bald man with a vacant, puppy-dog face.

"I'm closing the Silver Slipper," Tesno said mildly. "You have until tomorrow noon to move out."

"You're _what_?"

"I'm not going to argue about it. Get your stock out by then or it will be smashed."

The man spread his hands and looked appealing at the others at the table. He turned his eyes up to Tesno again and said, "Look, I've got a territorial license. You can't--"

"Tomorrow noon."

Tesno pivoted and walked out. He rode up the street toward the Big Barrel, passing the marshal's office again. The freight wagons had moved on, but a little crowd was still there. Mr. Jay stood in the doorway of the office.

Tesno delivered similar ultimatums to the proprietors of the Big Barrel and the Western Star. Then he rode to the townhouse.

He dismounted at the back of the building and entered the kitchen. Stella was sitting at the table, staring vacantly at the raw materials for dinner. The news of Willie's death had already reached her.

"I was too late," Tesno said.

"He vas a decent man," Stella said, speaking very slowly. "Maybe a little crazy, like they say, but decent."

"Stella, I want you to come with me."

"Mrs. Parker says I am not to leave the house. I am scared by the vay she said it."

"You're leaving right now," he said. "We'll send somebody for your things later."

She took his hand dazedly, and he led her outside. He mounted his horse, swung her up behind the saddle, and took her straight to Vickers' camp.

Keef O'Hara was with Ben Vickers in his cabin. They had just heard of Willie's murder and were full of angry questions. They nodded politely to Stella, not guessing the purpose of her presence and plainly considering it an intrusion. Tesno held a chair for her and explained.

"Ben, I want you to put her up here at the camp. She isn't safe in town."

"Here?" Ben said doubtfully. "There isn't a woman in camp. We have no suitable place."

"Then make one, Ben. She heard Jay and Madrid planning to kill Willie."

Ben whirled to confront her. "You _heard_ them?"

Frightened and ill-at-ease, Stella haltingly told what she had heard. When she had finished, Ben Vickers was grimly silent. He turned to his work table and stood toying with some papers there, his back to the others.

"Good lass!" Keef O'Hara said. "Say that in court and we'll see Jay and Madrid hang as high as Mount Tacoma."

"It won't be that easy," Tesno said. "There were other witnesses to that conversation. They would probably swear to a different version, make it seem that Stella misunderstood."

"Jay didn't have to kill," Ben Vickers said darkly. "He was a good engineer. This is a rough business. We've all been ruthless at times, I guess. But outright murder...."

O'Hara nodded sharply. "Sure, it makes a man wonder."

"Jay got his start in Dakota," Ben said. "Worked for a man whose team ran away and took him over a cliff. Jay took over the contract. In Idaho he had a partner who was killed in a fall from a trestle. Nobody ever figured out what he was doing up there in the middle of a snow storm."

Ben turned away from the table, and the three men exchanged startled glances. It seemed to Tesno that they were all thinking about the same thing.

"About the only way you can get a man like Jay is in court," Ben said. "And then you're likely _not_ to get him. I hate to think of what a smart lawyer might do to Stella on the stand."

"I vould tell only the truth," Stella said.

"Another thing," Ben said. "You never saw this boiler-wrecker up close, Jack. How could you swear it was Palma?" He shook his head dismally. "Fact is, we have precious little on Jerome J. Jay."

"Come, lass." O'Hara held out a hand to Stella. "I'll see you to my cabin, which is yours for the night. I'll move into the bunkhouse."

"I'll go along," Tesno said. "There's more that I want Stella to tell me. A whole lot more."

He ate a late supper at the cookhouse and got back to town well after dark. He went to the hotel, bolted the door of his room, and went to bed.

Toward midnight, he was awakened by a persistent rapping. It turned out to be Parris, the hotel owner and town councilman. He helped himself to a chair and seemed to settle himself for a long talk.

"Just came from a council meeting."

"I figured there'd be one," Tesno said.

"I don't like what's happening," Parris said. He had a loud, harsh voice. "I don't like wide-open saloons. I don't like gambling. But most of all, I don't like your barging in like God Almighty and pushing people around. The town ought to handle its own problems."

Tesno, tousled, sleep-eyed, in his underwear, was in no mood to listen to complaints. "Willie Silverknife is dead," he growled.

"Yes, and you're likely to be if you try to enforce that noon deadline you laid down. That's a friendly warning, Tesno, not a threat. They'll be ready for you tomorrow. Madrid has organized every barkeep and every gambler in town into what he calls a vigilance committee, and the council is backing him up. Every man will be armed and waiting for you. The first violent move you make, they'll drop you. Try Willie's trick with the dynamite, and they'll kill you before you can light the fuse. I don't like it and I spoke against it. I don't want any more killing."

"Was Persia at the meeting?" Tesno asked.

"She was not, but I assume she knows what's going on."

"Was Mr. Jay there?"

"Jay? Hell, no. I understand he will run for mayor, which will be a fine thing. But he has nothing to do with the council now."

"Parris, Jay has been in control of Tunneltown since the beginning. He's been running it wide open in an effort to put Vickers behind schedule."

Parris wouldn't believe it, and Tesno was in no mood to argue. Finally, he opened the door and said, "Stop talking for a while and think. Think about what I've said. Good night and thanks for the warning."

Parris snorted and walked out. Tesno had no more than blown the lamp and got into bed when he knocked on the door again.

"I got some siwash here who's been pestering the night clerk," he called. "Claims he's got business with you. Won't go away."

Tesno got the lamp going and opened the door.

"Hello, Charlie," he said. "You come in, too, Parris."

Charlie came in and looked around the room slowly and unblinking. Parris followed and closed the door. Charlie decided he would be comfortable on the bed, smoothed back the covers, and sat down.

"_Nika cooley hyas tsik-tsik_," he said.

"He says he went to the big wagon," Tesno said. "To the boiler."

"I savvy Chinook," Parris said.

"_Mika ko_," Charlie said to Tesno. "You here all a time." He seemed to consider this a joke.

"You found those dead men," Tesno said.

Charlie grunted. "_Kely tum-tum._ I cry in my heart. Silverknife my cousin."

"Willie was your cousin?"

Charlie grunted affirmatively. He explained that he had seen Willie leave town with the prisoners and that he had followed. Willie had seen him in the distance, hadn't recognized him, and had tried to lose him by leaving the road. Charlie had seen the tracks leading into the woods, however, and had followed. Willie had rejoined the road and Charlie had just reached it when he heard the shots. Not having a gun, he had hidden in the trees and waited.

"Son of a gun chase horses up and down. Go into trees."

"Who, Charlie?" Tesno demanded.

"_Hyas tyee_," Charlie said. He tapped his chest. "_Chikamin_ star. Big boss of town. Bright shirt."

"Madrid!" Parris said. "Madrid murdered the three of them!"

"Madrid," Tesno said.

XXII

Late in morning the town began to fill up. By eleven-thirty the saloons were doing a jumping, three-deep-at-the-bar business. Extra bartenders, armed and on hand as guards, were pressed into service. Gambling tables that usually didn't open till evening were solidly ringed with players and kibitzers. Other men stood in little groups out of the flow of traffic, talking softly or just waiting.

Sid Saul, owner and operator of the Silver Slipper, remarked cynically that he wished some bull-ragging troublebuster would threaten a shut-down every day. But even as he said it, he dabbed at his bald head with a handkerchief and kept his big, vacant, puppy-dog eyes on the door.

Over the next half hour it came to Sid gradually that something more than curiosity was responsible for this crowd. First, he overheard some of the talk and gathered that Ben Vickers had given the whole crew several hours off and had meted out fifty cents apiece drinking money to boot. Second, he realized with a shock that this was not a drunken crowd; the hum of steady talk was not punctuated by song, raucus laughter, or quarreling. Third, by the time Sid's big gold watch told him it was four minutes till noon, the jam had swollen beyond reason. Men stood almost solid from wall to wall, and Sid could scarcely see the door. He tossed his sweat-soaked handkerchief into a cuspidor and took a place behind the bar.

"Where's Madrid?" he demanded. "He ought to be down here. Eddie, go find Madrid."

Sid served no drinks. He just stood with one hand on the bar and the other within reaching distance of a sawed-off shotgun stashed under it. Except for a quick glance at his watch every minute or so, he kept his eyes on the door.

"Where's Madrid?" he demanded again at one minute to twelve. "Where's Eddie?"

The batwings eased open, but it was only another knot of workmen crowding in. They shoved up to the bar directly in front of Sid. They were all big men, and he couldn't see the door at all now without moving out of reach of the gun.

It was noon by his watch, a minute after. His fingers touched the stock of the shotgun. He craned his neck and found himself looking into the grinning Irish face of Keef O'Hara.

"Take care with that trigger finger, lad," O'Hara said. "Blast one of these terriers, accidental or not, and the rest will decorate a rope with you."

The truth of this struck Sid like a blow, and he took his hand off the gun. He knew now that he wasn't going to use it. You couldn't shoot anybody in this mob, terrier or troublebuster, and hope to live. The crowd was pressing around the ends of the bar. He whirled, making a pushing gesture with his hands; then he whirled the other way, astonished to find himself alone; the bartenders had been swallowed by the crush and passed from hand to hand.

Then someone was reaching past him, taking the sawed-off shotgun from under the bar. It was Tesno. He said, "Get out of town, Sid."

Sid went weak and sick and then into a blind rage. He knocked the gun aside and drove a fist into Tesno's stomach. Tesno took the punch, stepping back with it; his bootheel caught and he went down, turning sideways and landing on one knee. Sid strode forward, starting a kick, but Tesno rolled into his legs, grasped one of them, drove a shoulder into Sid's groin. Sid lit flat on his back, got an elbow in the stomach that took the wind and the fight out of him.

He was hoisted to his feet, spun around the bar and through the crowd to a group in the center of the saloon. These were the bartenders and the gamblers, ringed by a little cordon of guards.

"They kept pressing in till they swallowed us up," one of the dealers moaned. "I reached for the revolver I had in my pocket and there was already a hand on it...."

The crowd was briefly unruly now, scrambling for the contents of the cash boxes and the liquor on the back bar. A half dozen men with axes on their shoulders filed through to the back rooms. There was a prolonged crash of glass from the storeroom.

Dave Coons wove through the crowd then, saying, "Drift down to the Big Barrel, boys.... The Big Barrel next...."

* * * * *

Mr. Jay and Pete Madrid stood at a window of Mr. Jay's hotel suite and looked down at the street, which was nearly empty. They had watched the mob pour up the street from the Silver Slipper to the Big Barrel to the Western Star, which had completely swallowed it now. The window was open. Madrid held a rifle in his hands.

"It'll be over in a moment," Mr. Jay said tiredly.

Almost at once, the splash of shattered glass came to their ears. Mr. Jay closed the window.

"He's got to show himself sometime," Madrid protested.

"He's keeping to the alleys," Mr. Jay said, "taking no chances. Anyhow, the confusion is over and the chance is gone. The mob will mill around town for a while, then go back to camp."

Madrid put the rifle into a corner and loosened his revolver in its holster. "Then I'll go down and find him. Face to face, I can out-gun him, Mr. Jay."

"Pete, that mob would pick you to pieces."

Madrid stared absently at the street. Men were beginning to trickle out of the Western Star.

"Then the town is his--and Ben Vickers'. I'm getting out, Mr. Jay. If I were you...."

"Just listen," Mr. Jay said. "He's going to be looking for you. I want you to run. He'll follow. Draw him out of town away from the mob. Then turn on him."

Madrid squinted thoughtfully. "But in town I have authority, the _right_ to kill him."

"Do it my way once more, Pete. And when you've killed him, keep going. Go over Runaway Mountain and down the Green River to Tacoma. Sell your horse and take a ship to San Francisco." Mr. Jay extracted a sheaf of bills from a wallet and passed them to Madrid. "This is expense money. Go to the Palace Hotel. Register under a false name--Williams, George Williams. Stay sober and do nothing to attract attention. In a few weeks, I'll contact you. There'll be a payoff."

"I want five thousand, Mr. Jay."

"You shall have it, provided you kill Tesno. Now get some gear together and ride out of here. See that somebody gets word to Tesno just as you're leaving."

"You'll be--all right?" Madrid said. He stuffed the bills into a pocket.

"Of course I'll be all right! They have nothing on me but accusations they can't make stick--not with Tesno out of the way."

They left the hotel together. Madrid hurried off to throw a blanket roll together and get a horse. Mr. Jay made his way to the townhouse.

This was going to be an expensive business, this saloon-wrecking. But perhaps it was for the best. He would be elected mayor and would build a tight town organization that could stand up to Vickers, the Ellensburg politicians--anybody. Tesno would be dead. When he, Mr. Jay, had things solidly under control again, the saloons would open. He would go ahead with the plan to issue scrip....

A dozen men idled in front of Persia's end of the townhouse. Two saddlehorses and a mule browsed nearby. Mr. Jay thumped the knocker once and walked in. He came to a stop as he entered the parlor, startled to see that Tesno was here, standing at the center of a group scattered around the room. The others were Dave Coons, Judge Badger, Keef O'Hara, and Mr. Parris. Persia sat beside Sam Lester on the sofa.

Judge Badger stepped forward to greet Mr. Jay. "I'm glad you're here, sir. Perhaps you'll reply to some of the charges--very extravagant charges--that Mr. Tesno has made against you."

Mr. Jay threw back his head and pointed his beard at one and another of the gathering.

"Charges? Be damned to Mr. Tesno and his charges! He has no authority to make charges!"

"I'm accusing you of conspiring to murder Willie Silverknife and his prisoners," Tesno said in a snow-soft voice. "Tomorrow I'm taking you and Madrid and my witnesses to Ellensburg."

Mr. Jay drew himself up even straighter. "Slanderous nonsense! I assure you that you are taking me nowhere."

"He claims he has found an Indian who saw Madrid at the scene of the murder," Judge Badger said, "and a maid-servant who overheard you planning the crime."

Sam Lester got to his feet. "That will be Stella, Mr. Jay," he said. "She overheard you say that Willie was taking a dangerous chance--something like that. She misinterpreted it to mean that you wanted him killed. But there's nothing to worry about. Persia and I were present at that conversation. We know that there was no such implication."

"I should hope you do," Mr. Jay said.

"We will both testify to that--if necessary," Sam said.

Tesno's eyes swung to Persia. She met them defiantly and said, "We certainly will."

"And you'll be perjuring yourself to protect a murderer you ought to be doing everything possible to expose," Tesno said.

"Really, Jack, you're being unbearably sanctimonious," she said. "You killed a man less than a week ago. And you have the gall--"

"You don't understand," he said. "Mr. Jay, shall I tell her how you got your first contract--how you took over when the contractor went over a cliff? How many other associates of yours died suddenly and without witnesses, Mr. Jay? How about that partner of yours who fell off a trestle in Idaho?... Persia's husband was your partner, too, wasn't he, Mr. Jay?"

Silence smothered the room. Mr. Jay seemed too outraged to speak at once. He glanced toward the door as if he would like to leave. Keef O'Hara and Dave Coons moved squarely into his way. Tesno watched Persia. She had paled. There was a noticeable pulsing in her throat. Mr. Jay's nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath.

"Judge Badger," he said, "I appeal to you as a man dedicated to justice. This man is making crude, slanderous insinuations. Will you warn him of the consequences?"

"You're a killer, Mr. Jay," Tesno said. "Persia knows that. Sam Lester knows it. But why did you kill Duke Parker? You had already secretly taken control of Tunneltown away from him."

"Jack," Persia said in a strange voice, "what are you trying to do to me?"

"I'm making you see the truth," he said. He confronted Mr. Jay again and went on without pause. "Duke Parker was trying to blackjack himself back into control, wasn't he, Mr. Jay? Unless you wrote off the debt he owed you, he was going to expose your plan to operate Tunneltown in a wide-open way that would slow down Vickers' work. That would have ruined you in railroad circles. So you killed him--or had someone do it for you."

"No!" Persia made as if to rise. "I'm not going to listen to any more of this."

"Tell her, Sam," Tesno said. "You must know the truth."

"Sam...." Persia said.

Sam Lester sat down beside her, took her hand. He said nothing at all.

Tesno hammered on mercilessly. "Was Duke Parker killed by a bullet, Sam? Was a log skidded over him to conceal the wound?"

"Tesno, for god's sake, have a little consideration for her!" pleaded Sam.

"By letting her testify in behalf of her husband's murderer?" Tesno said, looming over him. "Suppose _you_ have a little consideration for her! Duke Parker's body can be exhumed. Persia is going to want that now, unless you tell her the truth. Spare her that, Sam."

Persia sat with her head bowed, her eyes fixed on Sam's stubby hand that covered her own. "Tell me, Sam," she said faintly. "Was he murdered? Just say yes or no."

"Shut up, Sam!" Mr. Jay snapped. "Don't you see what he's trying to do?"

"I've tried to get you away from here," Sam said to Persia, "get you out of this--"

"Say it!" Persia demanded.

Sam turned his froglike face up toward Mr. Jay. "It's all going to come out, anyhow," he said. "Yes, Persia. Duke was murdered. Madrid shot him. I swear I didn't know about it till it was over. Mr. Jay sent me up into the woods where Duke's body was. He said to help Madrid run a log over it, make sure it was ... torn up."

Mr. Jay seemed almost unable to speak. "This is a conspiracy!" he said in a choked voice. "Everyone here is determined to ... to discredit me."

Persia had buried her face in her hands. Now she looked up at him in horror. "I shall tell the truth in court," she said, controlling herself with a great effort. "You planned to have Willie killed on the road, and I shall say so."