Sudden--At Bay (A Sudden Western #2) by Frederick H. Christian

the terse reply. Hight’s face took on a new, almost hopeful
look.
    ‘ That … Dan Rodgers. Is
he?’
    ‘ Dead, Doc. He’s beaten up his
last medico.’
    Hight started visibly at these
words. ‘How did you know that?’ he asked nervously. ‘I’ve never
told a soul about…’
    ‘ Dan mentioned it … afore he was
took bad,’ Green told him, then changed the subject. ‘Is Billy
still in the jail?’
    ‘ Yes, as far as I
know.’
    ‘ How many men guardin’
him?’
    Hight shook his head. ‘I’ve got no
idea, Jim.’
    ‘ Don’t want to go in blind,’
muttered Green. ‘Might be worse’n useless.’ He sat silently for a
moment, pondering his next move, while Hight looked at him as if he
had announced his decision to fly to Santa Fe.
    ‘ Jim —-you’re not serious! You
don’t think one man alone could go into that jail and get out of
Cottontown alive, do you?’
    Green didn’t answer, but shrugged.
‘I can’t leave the kid in there,’ was his only comment.
    ‘ It’s madness!’ snapped Hight.
‘You can’t do it!’
    ‘ Who’d yu reckon can, then?’ asked
the puncher flatly, and Hight fell silent. ‘I’m sorry, Doc,’
apologized Green. ‘That wasn’t intended personal.’
    ‘ Hell, I know that, Jim,’ Hight
told him. ‘But one man, even if he was backed up by six others,
wouldn’t have much chance against Cotton’s gunfighters.’
    ‘ He hires guns, then?’ Green was
interested in this news.
    ‘ Yes,’ answered the Doctor. ‘Three
or four of his riders are paid killers, like the two who —-what
happened out there, Jim?’
    ‘ They aimed to cut me down an’
bury me. I changed their plans a mite,’ was all Green would tell
him. ‘That tall jasper I seen at the trial. What’s his name
again?’
    ‘ Helm, you mean? Big man, wearing
two guns?’
    Green nodded. ‘That’s the
one.’
    ‘ Name’s Chris Helm. He’s foreman
of the Cottonwood ranch.’
    ‘ He’s wanted in El Paso for
murder,’ Green informed the Doctor.
    ‘ I’m not surprised,’ replied Hight
flatly.
    Green took another tack. ‘Billy
told me somethin’ about the way things are here. How long has this
town been under Cotton’s heel?’
    ‘ It must be ten years altogether,
if you count Zeke Cotton’s days as well. They own everything.
Nobody can come into this valley to trade. Nobody can take anything
out to sell —-it all has to go through the Cottons or one of their
tools. The bank, the saloon, the general store —-they’re all owned
by the Cottons. They rent the saloon to Blass. He has to pay them a
percentage of what he takes over the counter. It’s their money in
the bank, and they set the interest on loans.’
    ‘ An’ if anyone kicks, the muscle
moves in, is that it?’
    ‘ That’s it. I’ve had experience of
it, in fact, you might say I was a walking example to the rest of
the town. If you call the way I get around walking.’ His voice was
harsh and bitter, and the memory of old pain was in the doctor’s
eyes.
    ‘ There are settlers to the south
who have been hoping for years to come and farm in this valley. The
one or two who’ve ventured north of the Bonito have been bullied
and harassed to such an extent that they’ve pulled out. There used
to be a sign at the fork of the road, about ten miles south of
town: “This is Zeke Cotton’s road — take the other one.” They
aren’t quite that obvious now, but the result’s the same. Newcomers
aren’t encouraged to stay.’
    ‘ I know that,’ murmured Green, a
frosty smile playing around his lips.
    ‘ Why are you involving yourself in
all this?’ asked Hight suddenly. ‘What does it matter to you what
happens to Billy Hornby, or me, or Cottontown?’
    ‘ It’s a long story. Doc. I doubt
we’ve got time for it.’
    Hight sat himself down in a chair facing Green. His
face was earnest and something deeper than curiosity was in his
eyes.
    ‘ Make it short, then,’ he bid the
puncher. ‘Tell me what your interest is, and maybe