Free Bounty Guns by Luke; Short Page A

second. He was beginning to understand this, now. Buck and Hagen were to separate when they saw him, then Buck was to make the fight talk. But Hagen, out of it apparently, would make the real play. Maybe Buck was trying to tell him, by that nod, that he didn’t mean what he said, and trying to do it without Hagen seeing him.
    Tip took a sudden decision in that second. He said in a soft voice, “Open the ball, then, Shields. I’ll stay.”
    Buck’s hand dropped to his gun. It wasn’t a very fast movement, as if Buck were reluctant to do it. Tip’s right hand dropped to his gun. And then, out of the corner of his eye, Tip saw Hagen Shields’s hand streak to his hip. Tip still had the whisky bottle by the neck in his left hand. He brought it around in a swift looping arc that caught Hagen Shields on the side of the head. Shields staggered sideways, and Tip’s gun whipped out and up and caught him squarely on the side of the head.
    Before he hit the floor, Tip’s gun was leveled at Buck, who, mouth open, was watching this, his gun half clear of leather.
    Tip said, “Drop that!”
    Buck seemed glad to. Tip looked down at Hagen Shields. He was bleeding where the whisky bottle had crashed into his skull.
    Tip stirred him with his toe and then said to Buck, “Pick him up and carry him to the jail, Shields. I want the whole town to see this.”
    He thought Buck was going to smile, but instead he came over, picked up his uncle, and hefted him up on his shoulder, like an oversize sack of feed.
    They marched down the street that way, Buck sweating under his load, Tip beside and a little behind him. A smal crowd gathered behind them, and some laughed. Tip thought it was a pity that Hagen Shields, that dignified and merciless man, couldn’t hear that. But he would hear it at second hand.
    Ball greeted them at the door. “Open up the cell block, Sheriff,” Tip said. “Here’s your first customer.”
    Tip helped Buck lug Hagen up the stairs and throw him into the cell. There were six cells in the block, roofed, floored, and walled on one side with heavy planks. It was not a break-proof jail, but a sturdy one. The rest of the second story was empty, except for a ladder that mounted to a padlocked door in the roof.
    Hagen Shields came to rest on the cot, and then Buck pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. His grin at Tip was friendly.
    â€œThanks,” he said. “I didn’t know whether you savvied it.”
    â€œWhat was it all about?”
    Buck said bitterly, “Haig had it fixed up to kill you, that’s all. He was goin’ to do it while you made your play for me.”
    â€œBut what for?”
    â€œYou knew.”
    â€œKnew what?”
    Buck looked quizzically from Tip to the sheriff, and then back to Tip. “You ain’t told him?”
    â€œTold him what?” Tip asked blankly.
    Buck sighed. “Well, I might’s well tell you the whole thing, Woodring. You see, after you accused us the other day of bein’ the ones who left Blackie Mayfell on the south road and give me the deadline, Haig decided to get you before you got to Ball with your story.” He paused. “You see, I really did put Mayfell there.”
    â€œWhere’d you find him?”
    â€œUp in our north pasture. He’d been dumped there, because I could see the tracks of the horses. I got panicked, I reckon, because I thought it was a Bolling frame-up. So I dumped him out on the south road.” Buck stopped, watching Tip.
    â€œWhat else, Buck?” Tip asked gently.
    â€œThat’s all.”
    Tip smiled faintly and shook his head. “Buck, you don’t look like a man that would take somethin’ like that lyin’ down. Maybe you did get scared and put Blackie’s body off your land. But you weren’t satisfied with that. You said there were tracks. You mean you didn’t backtrack to see where they came