Marauders' Moon Read Free

wall, the safe door was open, and on the floor around it was a scattering of papers.
    The little man said from beside Webb, “I was talkin’ to Patton when this holdup fella walked in and poked a gun in my back, and told Patton what he wanted. I went for my gun, when he slugged me from behind. Patton went for his, too. This hardcase shot him. He had a coil of rope with him, aimin’ to tie Poole here up, but after the shot, he jumped the counter and slugged Poole, too. But he took his time with the safe. Cleaned it out.”
    The sheriff nodded and said to the clerk, “You better go get a drink of whisky, son, then get some help and take Patton home.”
    It was a gesture of finality that seemed to turn the small man’s anger into a sort of bleak despair. He turned away from the sight and said to Wardecker, “Well, this’ll mean the ruin of a good part of the county.”
    â€œHow much was took?”
    â€œPoole says in the neighborhood of seventy-five thousand.”
    â€œUh-huh,” Wardecker said softly. “Fifty families of us cleaned out because we got a county next to us that won’t lift a hand to help us and will likely be glad because it happened.” He regarded the smaller man quizzically. “This here row comes to about what I claimed it would, don’t it, Buck?”
    Buck Tolleston recaptured some of his anger.
    â€œI’ve listened to that preachin’ for ten years, “Wardecker! But damned if I’ll listen to it now!”
    â€œSure,” Wardecker said mildly. For a moment Tolleston glared at him, and then his gaze swiveled to Webb. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded savagely.
    â€œWait a minute,” the sheriff said. He told Tolleston about Webb, and about the shooting of McWilliams.
    â€œAnd you never saw this comin’?” Tolleston asked Webb slowly. “You was out there on the street, and rode right past those hardcases and didn’t see it?”
    â€œI saw it,” Webb said coldly. “Hell, anyone with eyes could have.”
    â€œAnd you never done nothin’?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œHoller, shoot, anything to bust it up!” Tolleston said hotly.
    â€œI was handcuffed to this lawman,” Webb said slowly. “If I’d opened my mouth, I’d of got it four ways.”
    Tolleston’s mouth sagged in amazement, and Webb could almost read what was passing through his mind. For Tolleston, had he been in Webb’s place, would have shouted a warning and been killed for his pains, and it would have been instinctive, unheeding of danger, an act of a terrier who is bred to fight and die. The little man turned to the sheriff. “You heard that, Will?”
    â€œI heard it.”
    Tolleston said, “What kind of—” He paused, breathing hard, and said more quietly, “Maybe I don’t understand this.”
    To Webb he said, “So they wanted you for robbin’ a train? Are you sure we don’t want you along with them other five hardcases that got away with the money?”
    Webb flushed. “Sure. You want all of us. McWilliams was in on it. He just rode past four of us and let us hold up your bank because he don’t like this county. As soon as I get loose, I’ll join the boys and we’ll blow your seventy-five thousand on kewpie dolls.”
    Tolleston exploded. His left arm drove straight into Webb’s face, slamming him into the counter. Slowly Webb raised a hand to his mouth and he did not look at the sheriff as he said thickly, “Is it all right if I go ahead?”
    â€œIt’s Buck’s fight,” Wardecker said.
    Tolleston came at Webb again. This time Webb was ready, and there was no gentleness in what he did. With open hand he whipped through Tolleston’s flailing fists, and the smack of his palm on the smaller man’s face was like a gunshot. Driving into him, he grabbed both of Tolleston’s upper