The Last Gunfighter by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2009-09-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Grimshaw looked around as he went into the Bull o’ the Woods Saloon. His men were scattered around the establishment’s big main room, drinking in groups of two or three, but not clustered together so it was obvious that they knew each other. That was the way Emmett Bosworth wanted it. The timber magnate didn’t want anyone in Eureka suspecting that he had assembled a gang of hired killers.

As Grimshaw went to the bar, he caught the eye of the man on the other side of the hardwood. He gave the bartender a tiny nod and then said, “Give me a beer, Harry.”

The drink juggler drew the beer, wiped the bar in front of Grimshaw with his rag, and then set down the foaming mug. When Grimshaw picked up the mug, his other hand moved smoothly to rest on the spot where the beer had been. That move with the rag had allowed Harry the bartender to slip a key under the mug, and now Grimshaw’s hand rested on it without anyone being the wiser. When he moved his hand, the key went with it.

The key unlocked a door that opened from the alley behind the Bull o’ the Woods into the saloon’s back room. There was nothing in that room except a table and some chairs. From time to time, private poker games took place there. Months ago, Grimshaw had slipped Harry a tidy little sum to insure that he and the other men working for Bosworth would have a place to meet where no one could observe them together.

Grimshaw drank about half the beer, then left the rest and walked out of the saloon after tossing a coin on the bar to pay for the drink. The others knew what to do. After making sure that no one on the street was paying any attention to him, he stepped into the narrow passage beside the building and made his way to the alley in back. He unlocked the door, stepped into the private room. It had one window, but the shade was tightly drawn.

Within minutes, the first of the other men showed up, seeking entrance with a discreet knock. One by one, they filtered into the meeting place until all thirteen remaining members of the gang were there.

“You got it?” Hooley asked eagerly. “You got the money?”

Grimshaw took the roll of bills from inside his shirt. He had already discreetly peeled off his share and stashed it in one of his pockets. As he tossed the money on the table, he said, “What do you think? There it is, boys. Twenty-eight hundred dollars, as promised.”

“Wait a minute,” Radburn said. “There’s only thirteen of us here, not countin’ you, Jack. What about Nichols?”

Grimshaw shook his head. “Nichols won’t be collecting his share.” They would hear about it sooner or later anyway, so he thought he might as well go ahead and tell them the news. “The Terror got him. Frank Morgan brought his body in from the woods.”

“Morgan!” one of the men said.

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