His hand went to his breast, but the muzzle of the shotgun was jabbed at him.
“Move that hand out of sight,” snapped Dane, “and I’ll blow your head off.”
Big Frenchy looked at his brother, appalled. “You mean that, too. You are a killer. Alder warned me.”
Alder came out of the cabin. He was twenty feet behind Dane, but Dane heard him. He pivoted so that he could look from Alder to his brother, Big Frenchy. He gestured with the shotgun.
“Get over by him,” he ordered. “I want you both where I can see you.”
Alder started out, circling Dane. Big Frenchy watched him come.
“My dear fellow,” he said, anxiety heavy in his sonorous voice. “I should have listened to you. That razor-sharp brain of yours, it saw to the bottom of this — this man’s character. I could not believe that a man could be so evil. My brother, no less!” He sighed so that his entire body shook.
Old Frenchy said, “T’ousand dollar, you say. Not one piece of silver I ever get from you. Gus, he come home one time. He buy me television set. He give me money.”
Big Frenchy grasped at that straw. “A television set, dear papa! I have ten thousand dollars in my pocket. It is all yours — every one of the ten, beautiful thousand dollar bills. I have saved for you, Papa, it is your money. I want you to—”
“You’re a few years too late,” Dane said. “A few bucks before I came along might have helped you. Now—”
“’Guste!” cried Big Frenchy. “Wait — here is the money! You take it.”
Before it had been his left hand that had reached for his breast pocket. Now it was his right hand and it was darting under the lapel. He saw that he wasn’t going to make it, in that last instant. He bleated and threw himself aside. He missed the main force of the blast, but pellets from the shotgun struck his face and he screamed like a wounded boar.
The flat automatic he had reached for dropped from his fingers. Big Frenchy fell to the ground. His hands beat the ground, and one covered the automatic.
Leroy Dane saw the movement of the man on the ground as he was pumping a second shell into the chamber of the weapon. He cried out hoarsely, snapped the breech shut, and then the automatic in Big Frenchy’s hand exploded sharply. The bullet caught Dane in the face. He reeled back, started to fall, but was so intent on making his second shot that he managed it. The blast caught Big Frenchy full in the head. He kicked but once, lay still.
Dane fell on his back. One hand retained a grip on the gun, but his wound was serious. He could not quite manage to raise the gun.
Alder, moving toward him, stooped swiftly, tore the shotgun from the nerveless hand.
Leroy Dane’s eyes were open. Blood was welling from the wound just below his left eye. Blood was gushing from his mouth.
“Damn you,” he croaked. “Damn you to hell!”
Nikki was coming swiftly from the cabin. Old Frenchy stood, rooted to the ground, a few feet away.
“Die,” said Alder tonelessly.
Dane still had a few moments of life.
“Bitch,” he choked out, “should have—”
He never finished the sentence. A jerk went through his entire body, his mouth clamped shut, and then slowly opened.
He was dead.
Nikki came to Alder and stood beside him. They both looked down at Dane.
“He was evil,” said Nikki.
“He was one of the most evil creatures who ever lived,” said Alder. “He should never have been born.”
Then Alder took her hand and turned away.
Old Frenchy still stood where he had been when the shooting began. They walked to him.
“We will notify the Bismarck sheriff,” Alder said.
“Once I have wife,” mumbled Old Frenchy. “She talk too much, she scold too much — but she is good woman. I also have two son. No goddam good. Better I kill them when they babies. I do not and they now kill each other. Soon I die, too.” He blew breath from his mouth, a heavy discharge.
“You don’t tell sheriff nothin’. What he don’t know, don’t bother him. Save trouble. I tell sheriff two son come home, fight — shoot each other. Better all around. I bury them by their mama.”
“There’s ten thousand dollars in Jacques’ wallet.”
“If he don’t lie.”
“He didn’t lie — about that. The money’s yours.”
“Sure, he my son. I take money. You go now. I drive town, make call to sheriff.”
Chapter 28
In their room at the Siouxan Hotel in Bismarck, that evening, Alder said to Nikki: “If you want more time, Nikki, I will understand, but I think I should make the call. I want to make it.”
“I have thought of it a thousand times,” Nikki said. “I have gone over the words I would say and always they were different words. But we’ve got to call.”
Alder sat down on the bed and picked up the phone. “I want to make a call to New York City to the home of Mrs. Eleanora Delaney at Madison Avenue.”
He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “It will take a minute.”
Nikki seated herself in the chair by the bed and looked at him. Her eyes were clear and steady. There was no faltering in her, no weakness. She said, “What shall I say? It is so long, so many years. I was a child.”
“The words will come, Nikki. Besides, will I criticize what you say? Will your mother?”
“No.”
He took his hand from the mouthpiece. “Yes... thank you. Please!” A moment. “Hello... who is this, please? Arthur? I want to speak with Mrs. Delaney. Tell her that Tom Alder is calling.”
He covered the mouthpiece again. “Nikki, don’t be apprehensive. Your mother is an old woman — but she is you, Nikki. You, as you will be at her age. She has retreated into her world of memories, but this call will bring her back into your world. Our world. She is a strong woman — as you are strong.”
Nikki got up from the chair and sat down beside him. She took his free hand and held it in both of hers.
Mrs. Delaney’s voice said, “I expected you would call, although not as soon as you have. Have you — found her?”
“Yes. She is here beside me. She is very beautiful and what you said to me has come true. We are right for each other.”
“Thank you,” said Mrs. Delaney. “Thank you, my dear.”
He gave the phone to Nikki. She held it in her hand and looked at him. And at last he saw the strain in her eyes. He took her hand and she put the phone to her ear.
“Mother,” she said. “Oh, Mother!”
The tears came at last, the tears that had been many years in the making. Alder saw them and he knew that it was good.
Doris Delaney had come home.
After twenty years, plus two.