The Stranger from Abilene

“You told me yesterday that I wouldn’t make it out of the territory alive. I think after what happened this morning, my chances are even thinner.”

“I can ride with you as far as the Kansas border,” Kelly said.

“If Parker Southwell is the kind of man you say he is, he’ll track me all the way back to Abilene and kill me there. Or try to.”

“If Shad Vestal is after you, he won’t try. He’ll do.”

Clayton made no answer and Kelly said, “Anyway, why I’m here, the mayor wants to talk with you.”

“Now?”

“Good a time as any.”

“What about?”

“Probably to tell you what a good job you did throwing Lee Southwell in a puddle of horse piss and endangering the whole damn town.”

The marshal smiled. “Maybe he’s gonna give you a gold medal.”

“Kelly,” Clayton said, “you got a sense of humor buried somewhere, but I’m damned if I can find it.”

“A bad business, Mr. Clayton. Parker Southwell is a vengeful man and I fear the worst.”

Mayor John Quarrels leaned back in his chair and talked to the end of his cigar, not Clayton.

“Marshal Kelly told me he’s given you a week to find the fugitive murderer and rapist you seek.”

“Now it’s six days,” Kelly said.

“It’s not an arrangement I care for, but I will not countermand my city marshal’s decision.”

Now his cold blue eyes lifted to Clayton. “You know that Mr. Southwell, like your . . . ah . . . employer, is a cripple?”

“Yes, I heard that.”

“He tangled with a longhorn three years ago, stove him up badly.”

Quarrels, tall, slim, his black hair graying at the temples, was a spectacularly handsome man. He had an air of genteel prosperity. His well-cut gray suit had been tailored in Boston, his spotless linen mail-ordered from Savile Row in London. He spoke softly, a man used to command and the obedience of others.

“The question is, Mr. Clayton, what do we do with you?”

“Help me find the man who was once known as Lissome Terry,” Clayton said.

“Whoever he is, he’s not in this town,” Quarrels said.

“Mr. Clayton thinks Park Southwell could be his man.”

Quarrels shook his head. “He’s not. Mr. Southwell distinguished himself in the late war as a colonel under General A. P. Hill’s command,” he said. “He’s a brother Mason and true blue.”

“But you think he’ll try to kill me?” Clayton said.

“Perhaps I can talk him out of it.”

“And if you can’t?”

Quarrels shrugged. “Then get out of town fast. I’d rather say, ‘Here’s where Cage Clayton ran’ than ‘Here’s where Cage Clayton died.’” He smiled. “Catch my drift?”

Kelly said, “Make him a deputy, Mayor.”

Quarrels was surprised and displeased, and it showed.

But the marshal said, “Swear him in as my deputy for six days. Park Southwell has always respected the star on a man’s chest. It might give Mr. Clayton some protection.”

“It’s thin, Marshal,” Quarrels said.

“I can get him out of town for a couple of days until this blows over.”

Anger rasped in Clayton’s voice. “I’d like to remind you two that I’m still here. I reckon I’m capable of planning my own future, and it doesn’t include a star.”

“Two days, Cage,” Kelly said, using Clayton’s given name for the first time. “I’ll talk to Park Southwell and then do some rootin’ around on my own account. If Lissome Terry is in Bighorn Point, I’ll find him.”

“And when you do?”

“I’ll arrest him.”

“Why the sudden change of heart, Kelly?” Clayton said. “I thought you didn’t give a damn.”

“Maybe I don’t, but I’m still a sworn officer of the law. If Terry’s here, and you can prove that he done what you say he done, he’ll stand trial for rape and murder.”

“No matter who he is?”

“No matter who he is.”

Mayor Quarrels watched cigar smoke curl above his head. He nodded. “Now that I’ve reconsidered, I think your suggestion is an excellent one, Marshal Kelly. Deputize Mr. Clayton, then send him out of town. It will give me a chance to talk to Park and his missus and calm them down.”

He looked at Clayton. “Well, what do you say? We can do you no fairer.”

“Cage, like the mayor said, sometimes it’s safer for a man to pull his freight than his gun,” Kelly said.

“I still plan on killing Terry,” Clayton said. He looked at Kelly. “That’s a thing you’re going to have to deal with.”

“I will, if and when that time comes.”

“And I want another week.”

Kelly looked for the mayor’s reaction, but the man’s face was bland, almost disinterested.

“It’s a deal, Deputy Clayton,” Kelly said.

Chapter 14

Cage Clayton rode north out of Bighorn Point, then followed Sans Bois Creek east until its fork. He splashed across shallow water and drew rein in a stand of willow and cottonwoods.

According to Kelly, the terminal of the railroad spur should be less than a mile ahead, in rolling long grass country.

It was not yet noon, but the day was hot under a hammering sun. Nothing moved and the only sound was the small music of crickets in the grass.

Clayton swung out of the saddle, eased the girth on the buckskin, and let the little horse graze under the trees.

He fetched his back up against a cottonwood trunk, laid his hat on a bent knee, and lit a cigarette.