Death Waits at Sundown

 

Lynn Taylor rocketed into Pioneer leaving a hurricane of dust in his path. He skidded his buckskin stallion to a stop before the sheriff ’s office and leaped down to stride with loud boots up the steps and through the door.

 

Pioneer’s denizens had been startled at his abrupt appearance. The men in the sheriff ’s office stared at Lynn and then shot questions at each other.

 

Lynn Taylor’s square jaw was set and his eyes were chunks of ice. His batwings were thick with the mud and dust of long travel and his stubble growth of beard was whitened with alkali. But on each thigh there gleamed clean guns, tied down—and those guns and thongs meant Texas.

 

“Which one of you gents is McCloud?” said Lynn Taylor, dropping his quirt with a crack upon the desk.

 

The man behind it sat forward with a humorless, confident grin and pushed his white sombrero up from his sweaty brow. “I’m McCloud.” And his stare plainly said, “What are you going to do about it?”

 

“I’m Lynn Taylor. Where’s my brother?”

 

McCloud leaned back again, though the others in the room were still tensed and wary. “He’s where he belongs, fellah. You wasn’t thinkin’ of doin’ anything about it, was you?”

 

“I kind of had that in mind,” said Lynn, scanning the others in the room and labeling them as hard cases. “When is the trial?”

 

McCloud laughed easily. “Looks like your information come late, Taylor. The trial’s over and Frank Taylor swings tomorrow at sundown.”

 

“Maybe,” said Lynn, looking McCloud over. “I’m askin’ to see him.”

 

McCloud hesitated and then he shrugged. “All right, Texas. Can’t be any harm in that. But get this straight. The vigilantes has things in hand—and we don’t want no outside interference.”

 

He got up and took a ring of keys down from the wall. Two of the others stood and swaggered carelessly after the big Texan. It was dark in the cells. Ahead a cot creaked and Frank Taylor rose to eye the coming party with suspicion.

 

Worry and two weeks of confinement had thinned and blanched his young face. His young body was braced and surly as he waited for the head of the vigilantes. And then he gave a glad start. “Lynn!”

 

“Think I’d leave you in the lurch?” said the Texan. “Open it up, McCloud. I want a talk with the kid.”

 

“You say what you’ve got to say right here in my presence,” stated McCloud. “We didn’t go to all the trouble of pickin’ up this precious brother of yours just to let him get away from us again.”

 

Lynn barely glanced at the vigilante chief. He moved up to the bars. “I came as soon as I got your letter, kid. What are they doin’ to you?”

 

“It’s a frame!” said Frank Taylor. “I’m here because I was sap enough to build up my spread to a point where somebody else wanted it. I’m a fall guy for a set of jobs I never pulled. You got to believe me, Lynn. I didn’t rob nothing. If you want to see the guy that did it, turn around and look.”

 

“Shut up,” said McCloud. “Nobody’ll listen to a lie like that.”

 

“They’d listen if they weren’t scared of you!” said Frank. “Lynn, you got to set this thing to rights. I swing tomorrow night. I didn’t do a thing!”

 

Lynn looked at the eager, pleading face of his younger brother. “Sure, I know that, kid.”

 

“Time’s up,” said McCloud uneasily.

 

“Don’t worry about anything, kid,” said the Texan, touching the hand on the bars very briefly. He turned and walked back along the corridor, the outer cell door clanging behind him.

 

In the office again, McCloud looked carefully at Lynn. “Listen, Texas, I wouldn’t advise you to start anything. You ain’t got any friends in Pioneer.”

 

“Have you?” said Lynn meaningly.

 

McCloud laughed. “Ask around. Your brother is full of locoweed. He stopped the Overland seven times and took the weight off its springs. The last time he killed the driver. And plenty of cows have turned up missing since he started to increase his spread. I might,” he added, “go as far as to say that a Taylor would show good sense if he pulled out of Pioneer—tonight.”

 

“Yeah?” said Lynn.

 

“Yeah,” said McCloud.

 

“Thanks for the advice,” said Lynn. He casually inspected the five gunmen who lounged in chairs around the walls and each returned his stare silently.