that’s not going to work.”
“Take him, boys,” Courtwright said.
Butler and Short both drew their guns.
“Don’t touch those guns,” Butler said.
“Are you crazy?” Courtwright asked. “Drawing your guns on the law?”
“Right now we don’t recognize your authority, Courtwright,” Short said.
“Yeah,” Butler said, “it’s more than a little suspect, at the moment.”
Courtwright turned and looked at his deputies.
“I said take him—take ’em both.”
Both deputies gave him a look that said, “Why don’t you take them yourself?”
“Goddamnit!” Courtwright said. “I’ll have your badges.”
The two deputies exchanged an anxious glance, then both unpinned their badges.
“You can have ’em,” they said, handing their tin to the sheriff.
The two men walked away, leaving a confused Courtwright behind.
“Sheriff,” Short said, “time to move along.”
Courtwright turned a murderous gaze on Short.
“We’re not through,” he said. “I’ll be back for you two with deputies I can trust.”
“Make it a lot of them,” Butler said.
Courtwright looked toward the house, then turned on his heels and stormed off.
“What the hell—” Sutherland said, inside the house. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Looks like Short and Butler stood them off,” Newman said.
Sutherland dropped the curtain and looked at the lawyer.
“What now?”
Newman wasn’t sure, and to cover up that fact he said, “Give me a minute.”
Butler and Short watched Courtwright until he was out of sight, then holstered their guns and turned back to the house.
“We’re going to have to pay for that,” Butler said.
“We’ll deal with it later,” Short said. “Let’s deal with this now. I think we’ve got him trapped in there.”
“Back or front?’ Butler asked.
“I’ll take the front.”
“Be careful.”
“You too.”
“Two minutes,” Butler said, and then moved.
CHAPTER 57
When Butler reached the back, he tried the knob and found the door unlocked. He drew his gun, opened the door, and stepped in. He was in the kitchen and from there could hear Short’s knock at the front door.
He crept through the kitchen and peered into the next room, the living room. It was empty. He entered and moved quickly to the front door. When he opened it he startled Luke Short.
“Jesus,” Short said, “I almost shot you. What’s goin’ on?”
“I don’t know,” Butler said. “The house is empty.”
“Somebody was in here,” Short said. “They were watching us from that window. Let’s check upstairs.”
They did so, creeping up the stairs slowly. They found two bedrooms, both empty. They checked closets, and even looked under the beds. Convinced there was no one on the second level they came back down to the first, both baffled.
“Now what?” Butler asked.
“We couldn’t have been wrong,” Short said. “The sheriff showin’ up when he did tells me that. You were right, they were tryin’ to split us up. Maybe we should’ve let them do it.”
“You really think Sutherland would face you fairly, with no ace up his sleeve? Somebody probably would have back shot you from a window.”
“Do you think Newman has chosen sides that clearly that he’d pick up a gun?” Short asked.
“I don’t know what to think about him anymore,” Butler admitted.
They both stood there, looking around them.
“There’s got to be another way out of this house,” Butler said finally. “Let’s find it.”
They split up and searched the house with their guns in their hands. They expected to find someone behind every door, but it wasn’t until Butler tried a cupboard in the kitchen that he finally did.
“Luke?”
Short came running into the kitchen, found Butler in front of a walk-in cupboard. The shelves that held provisions stood open, having been built with hinges. It led to a staircase.
Butler pointed down.
“Root cellar?” Short asked.
“Only one way to find out.”
Short peered down.
“It’s dark.”
“You got matches?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s find some candles.”
They found some right on the shelves in front of them. They each took one and lit it. With a candle in one hand, gun in the other, they went down.
It wasn’t a cellar, but a tunnel that had been dug years ago. The wood shoring it up had started to collapse. There was dust on the floor, and three sets of footprints stood out starkly.
“I doubt anyone’s used this tunnel for a long time before today,” Short said.
They followed it until it ended at another staircase. The second step had recently broken beneath someone’s weight.
“Let’s hope the sonofabitch broke his leg,” Butler said.
“Either one of them.”
They went up the stairs, mindful of the fact that another step could also give way. They came to a door, opened it, and stepped into what appeared to be a storeroom.
“How far did we walk?” Short asked.
“A hundred yards or so.”
They moved across the storeroom into the store proper. Empty shelves, a dusty counter. They were in a shop that had been closed up a long time.
“I don’t get it,” Short said. “Why take Mrs. Newman with them?”
“As a hostage?” Butler suggested. “Or to use as a shield?”
“Even I don’t think Al Newman is that much of a sonofabitch,” Short said.
“Maybe she’s the brains,” Butler said.
“Yeah, I’d believe that.”
They had to force the front door to get outside. They found themselves on a block of stores right around the corner from the residential neighborhood where the Newman house was. When they turned and looked to see where they had come from, they saw a sign that read: NEWMAN’S HARDWARE.
“Newman’s a lawyer. Was his father in hardware?” Butler asked.
“I don’t know,” Short said. “Does it matter? We’ve lost Sutherland, and Courtwright’s going to be comin’ for us with an army of deputies. Why don’t you just mount up and ride out, Butler?”
“Save myself, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
