“Some paper matches and... a purple check.”
“I saw the check, but I left it in his pocket, because I wasn’t planning to come back to Vegas... Take off your clothes.”
“Eh?”
“Take ’em off. I’m not taking any chances.”
“I give you my word,” said Johnny, “I haven’t got anything on me that you’d be interested in...”
Nick gestured to Bill. The squat man reached for Johnny, but the latter stepped back quickly and peeled off his coat. Nick took it and began going through it. He searched the pockets and examined the lining for hidden pockets. He ran his fingers along the seams and edges.
Johnny took off his trousers and Bill examined those. “The shirt,” Nick said.
Johnny removed it, then knowing that he would be ordered to do so, followed with his shoes and socks. He stood on the bare adobe floor in his shorts, but Nick wasn’t satisfied even then. He made Johnny take off the shorts. His search, of course, was fruitless.
Johnny reached for his clothes, but Nick swept them angrily aside. “You can have them when I come back...”
“It’s cold,” Johnny complained.
Nick handed his gun to Bill. “I’ve got to get those cards; it must be in there, after all. Keep him undressed until I get back. He’s less liable to try anything that way.”
“Don’t worry, Carl,” said Bill, “I can handle him...”
“Damn you!” Nick snarled. “Watch that big mouth of yours...”
Bill showed sudden surprise. “What’d I say?”
“The name,” said Johnny. “He’s supposed to be Nick, but you called him by his real name — Carl...”
Carl, alias Nick, gave Johnny a dirty look. “You’ve got a pretty big mouth, too. Somebody may shut it up for you.” He walked to the door. “I won’t be gone more than a half hour; if I can’t get it in that time I’ll come back.”
He went out and a moment later the car lights went on and then turned around and started off across the desert to the highway.
As soon as the sound of the motor died away, Johnny appealed to his two remaining captors. “Look, fellas, a joke’s a joke, but this is embarrassing — let me put on my shorts, anyway.”
“Uh-uh,” said Bill, promptly.
Johnny stepped to the table. “A hundred bucks, just to let me put on my underpants.”
“Go ahead,” Jake urged promptly.
But Bill still shook his head. “What hundred bucks? We got the money, anyway.”
“Carl’s got it,” Johnny corrected. “He knows there’s eight thousand in that pile and he’ll give you what he feels like.” He coughed. “Of course he doesn’t know the exact amount... he didn’t count it, you know. You could take away a hundred apiece without him knowing it... if I didn’t tell him...”
Cupidity struggled with caution on Bill’s features. Johnny stepped to the table. “We can peel off a hundred from this stack and one from this...” He did it.
Jake stepped forward. “A hundred bucks is a hundred...”
He reached for one of the bills. Johnny extended it to him with his right hand and with his left scooped up the lamp on the table.
Bill cried out, but he was too late. Johnny hurled the lighted lamp at Jake, dropped the two hundred-dollar bills and tore the rifle from Jake’s hands.
The lamp exploded as it crashed and Jake yelled in pain and terror and began beating the blazing kerosene from his body.
Bill didn’t go to his rescue.
He threw up his revolver to shoot at Johnny. But at the same time Johnny struck with the rifle barrel. The blow landed on Bill’s wrist, just as the squat hoodlum pulled the trigger.
The gun exploded and wind fanned Johnny’s cheek as the bullet went past. Then the gun flew from Bill’s hand and he was clutching his bruised arm with his other hand. Crippled, he headed instinctively for the open door.
Johnny started after him, with the rifle, but swerved aside when he saw Jake still fighting flames on his clothing and grabbed a blanket from the bunk. He threw it over Jake and quickly smothered the few flames.
Jake staggered to his bunk when he saw that he was no longer in danger. There was a slight burn on his face and one or two on his hands, but aside from a few holes in his shirt he had suffered no other damage.
Johnny examined him for a moment, then stepped to the table. Placing the rifle on it, handy to his reach, he began dressing himself.
Jake remained where he was. When Johnny finished dressing, he picked up his money and began stowing it away in his pockets. Bill’s gun he appropriated.
“You’ll find your rifle somewhere along the trail,” he said, to Jake, “that is, if you feel like searching for it. I have an idea though, you’ll be making tracks for the desert, on account of there’ll be some deputy sheriffs here about ten minutes after I reach a telephone...” He nodded to Jake and stepped out of the cabin.
Outside the moon had risen and the trail leading to the paved highway was plainly discernible.
Johnny strode along swiftly. After awhile he saw car headlights swooping by some distance ahead and in another ten minutes he reached the highway.
He walked a mile along the pavement before he came to a motel. They had no telephone at the place, but a ten-dollar bill persuaded the motel keeper to drive him to El Casa Rancho.
Chapter Eleven
Sam Cragg dropped two hundred dollars at The Last Frontier. Molly, the redhead, playing with her own money, lost twenty-eight dollars. She didn’t like it. “I can’t afford this,” she complained. “My alimony doesn’t start for another month.”
“Red,” said Sam, “somethin’ tells me you won’t be collecting alimony very long.”
“Is that a proposal?”
Sam grinned. “Could be, Red.” He fingered her mink scarf. “What’d this set you back?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Three thousand. Or maybe it was four.”
Sam winced. “How much alimony you going to get?”
She sighed. “A measly three thousand a month.”
“Only three thousand? If it was me, I’d give you five thousand. If I had it.”
“From what I hear, your friend has it. By the way, where is he?”
Sam looked toward the door. “I dunno. He oughta been here by now. Maybe he ain’t comin’...” Then he met Jane Langford’s glance. “Or maybe he is...”
“I’m getting tired of this place,” exclaimed Halton. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Whatsamatter, ain’t the system working?”
“There’s too many people here. I can’t concentrate. Let’s run uptown, to one of the smaller places.”
“But I left word for Johnny to meet us here.”
“That was a half hour ago,” Chats-worth interposed. “It doesn’t look like he’s coming. If the rest are willing. I’d like to go into town.”
Molly sided with Halton and Chats-worth. “We can leave word for Johnny at the door where we’re going.”
“Yeah, but we don’t know where we’re going,” Sam protested.
“We’ll go to Elmer’s Club,” Halton exclaimed peevishly. “It’s a small place on Fremont between 3rd and 4th. I was there last night and it was fairly quiet.”
Since Halton’s car had brought them to The Last Frontier, Sam saw that he would be stranded in the event Johnny failed to show up, so he reluctantly agreed to go along.
Elmer’s Club opened on Fremont Street and was a narrow room containing a single crap table and a half dozen tables for blackjack and poker. And the inevitable battery of slot machines.
Halton promptly brought out his system and began playing it. He lost eight bets in a row. Sam, meanwhile, won seven bets. So did Molly, playing with Sam. Jane Langford toyed with silver dollars, as did Chatsworth.