Читать книгу Deadly Road to Yuma - William W. Johnstone - Страница 9

The man on top of the hotel was named Charlie Cornwell, and he was having one hell of a time staying awake. It seemed like he had to yawn every few seconds, and each yawn just made him sleepier.

He worked as a hostler at the livery stable and also as a part-time deputy for Sheriff Flagg, and he had put in almost a full day’s work before the sheriff came by the stable and told him to go home and take a nap because he was going to hold down the night shift on lookout duty at the hotel.

“What lookout duty?” Charlie had asked, not having heard anything about it before that very moment, and the sheriff had explained that from now on, guards were going to be posted atop the hotel and the bank to keep an eye out for Joshua Shade and his gang…at least until Shade was caught, tried, and hanged like the no-account buzzard he was.

Cyrus hadn’t given Charlie any choice in the matter, and since Charlie needed the money from the deputy job to go along with what he earned at the stable, he’d said sure. He had long since given up on the idea of ever making enough so that his wife would actually be happy, but he didn’t see any reason to make things worse than they already were.

He wasn’t used to going to sleep at five in the afternoon, though, so he hadn’t really gotten much rest before going to the sheriff’s office to get a Winchester and a pocketful of shells, then climbing up here. So by midnight, it was all he could do to stay awake.

The roof was flat, with a little wall about two feet high that ran all around it. Charlie figured that if he could sit down with his back propped against that wall, he could catch some quick shut-eye.

But Sheriff Flagg had warned him specifically about that very thing. “Don’t you go sittin’ down and dozin’ off, Charlie,” he’d said. “Remember, the fate o’ the whole town could be in your hands.”

Charlie sighed, yawned, and looked north and east. Down at the bank, on the other side of the street at the far end of the next block, Harlan Eggleston was watching to the south and west…although Charlie didn’t know what the hell Cyrus Flagg expected them to be able to see in the dark like this. A little moonlight spilled over the landscape, but not much.

Anyway, as far as Charlie could remember, Joshua Shade and his gang always attacked a town in broad daylight. They weren’t going to be showing up here tonight. Still, he would do what Cyrus told him. He always did.

The ladder that leaned against the back wall of the hotel rattled a little as someone started up it. Charlie turned toward it, frowning a little. The sheriff had told him that he’d be up here until four o’clock in the morning, when somebody would come to relieve him. It wasn’t anywhere close to four yet.

But whoever was coming up the ladder called softly, “Hey, Charlie! You up there?” so it had to be somebody who knew him. Maybe Cyrus had changed his mind and was sending his relief early.

That would be just fine with Charlie. He could still get home and get a few hours of sleep before he had to get up and go to work at the livery stable.

Carrying the Winchester slanted across his chest, he walked over to the ladder and looked down. All he could see in the moonlight was a hat rising toward him as its wearer climbed the rungs.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “Who’s that?”

“Sheriff sent me to take over for you,” the man replied without really answering the question, and Charlie was so glad to hear that, he didn’t really think about it. He just let the rifle hang at his side in his left hand and grinned.

“I’m mighty glad to hear that,” he said as the man reached the top of the ladder. “I’m so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open, and Cyrus said we have to stay alert. Here, lemme give you a hand.”

He stepped closer as the man seemed to struggle a little getting over the wall around the edge of the roof. Charlie’s hand was out to help.

But then the man looked up, revealing his face under the broad-brimmed hat, and Charlie realized he’d never seen the hombre before. He wasn’t from Arrowhead or one of the nearby ranches. Even in the dim light, Charlie could tell that. This fella had a bushy black beard and squinty eyes and didn’t look friendly at all.

Before Charlie could ask him who the hell he was and what he was doing here, the man’s arm whipped up and around, and Charlie stepped back with something hot and wet suddenly flooding down his chest. He tried to yell, but no sound came out.

He dropped the Winchester and reached for his throat with both hands. Blood cascaded over them. He felt it pumping out through the huge slash his fingers found.

Charlie’s knees hit the rooftop as his legs folded up underneath him. He finally managed to gurgle a little as he swayed there. The night was warm, almost hot, but he felt cold now as he struggled to accept the fact that his throat had just been cut wide open by the bowie knife clutched in the stranger’s hand.

The struggle was a short one. With another gurgle, Charlie toppled forward and died.

Ed Callahan had thought about going the other way when he left Arrowhead with his mule earlier that night, instead of returning to the foothills of the Gilas north of town.

But Joshua Shade had warned him about that, putting an arm around Ed’s shoulders and saying in that soft, persuasive voice, “Now, you don’t want to be led astray by any foolish ideas, Brother Ed, like not coming back to tell me what you find out. If you do that, I’ll have to come looking for you, and you know the Lord will lead me right to you.”

Ed didn’t doubt it for a second. Shade was downright spooky, the way he seemed able to peer right through a man. Like he knew everything the other fella was thinking and feeling.

“So you find out anything you can that you think will help us, and you come right back here and tell me. Will you do that?”

And God help him, he’d nodded and said, “I s-sure will, Rev’rend. I’ll be back.”

He had kept his word. He had spent several hours hanging around Arrowhead, talking to folks. He’d found out about the guards Sheriff Flagg had posted on top of the bank and the hotel. He’d even seen Charlie Cornwell and Harlan Eggleston climbing up on those buildings to take the night watch.

Nobody seemed to notice when he left town and headed for the foothills. No one in Arrowhead had ever paid him much mind to start with, and this evening was no different.

When he got back to the spot overlooking the town where he’d left Shade and the rest of the outlaws, he didn’t see anybody. At first, he had thought that he was lost, that he’d come to the wrong place.

Then, like phantoms, they had materialized out of the shadows, surrounding him and making his blood run cold. Joshua Shade stepped forward, rested both hands on Ed’s shoulders, and said, “Tell me, Brother Ed, what have you found out?”

Ed spilled his guts, of course. What else was he going to do? Lie to this outlaw, this…demon? Run the risk of having Joshua Shade pursuing him like a hound from Hades for the rest of his life?

Hell, no!

And when he was done, Shade had squeezed his shoulders and said, “Good work, my friend. The Lord will be pleased that you’ve provided so much assistance to His humble servants.”

“Wh-what are you gonna do now?”

“Bring God’s message to Arrowhead, of course. Help the sinners to repent and put the things of this world aside.”

Ed bit back the groan of despair that tried to well up his throat. He knew good and well what Shade was going to do. He and the rest of the gang were going to raid the town, looting and raping and killing. They might even burn it down.

There was nothing Ed could do to stop them, so he might as well save his own life, he told himself. He clung to that thought as he sat down on a rock and waited. Shade didn’t want him to leave yet.

“You should stay, Brother Ed,” he’d said. “Stay and witness the fruits of your handiwork.”

That was just about the last thing Ed wanted to see right now, but Shade didn’t give him any choice.

A couple of men rode off toward Arrowhead, and after what seemed like forever to Ed, a light suddenly flared to life and moved back and forth three times. Somebody had lit a match and signaled with it.

Mere seconds later, the same sort of signal was repeated from the other end of the settlement. Shade put his hands on his hips and said, “Excellent! The sentries have been taken care of.”

Murdered, that was what he meant, Ed thought, and again he struggled to keep from groaning.

Shade turned toward him and motioned for him to get up. Ed stood and swallowed as the outlaw leader approached him.

“We’ll be going now,” Shade said. “Would you like to accompany us, Brother Ed, or would you rather receive your reward now?”

“R-reward?” Ed repeated. “You didn’t say nothin’ about no reward.”

“You didn’t think the Lord would allow your work to go unrewarded, did you?”

Ed rasped calloused fingertips over his beard-stubbled jaw. He felt bad about what was about to happen to the folks in Arrowhead, mighty bad, but…well, since there was nothing he could do about it…he might as well get something out of the deal, hadn’t he?

“If it’s all right with you, Rev’rend, I’ll, uh, take whatever you got for me and go on my way. I don’t care how much it is neither. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”

Shade shook his head. “Oh, it’s not money, brother. It’s a heavenly reward.”

With that he brought his hand up and plunged a bowie knife into Ed’s belly. Ed cried out in agony as he felt the razor-sharp blade being tugged across his stomach, opening him up so that the coils of his guts spilled out through the wound as Shade stepped back. Ed tried to stuff them back inside, but failed. They slipped out of his hands and uncoiled onto the dirt at his feet. He staggered, fell, lay there gasping as his life ran out.

The last thing he was aware of was Joshua Shade’s voice.

The son of a bitch was praying.