by Art Isberg
‘You’re married?’
‘I said “was”. I’m not now. My husband, Jim Langley, was a shotgun guard for the Gamble and Gates stage line, but he was killed in a hold-up two years ago. The company said they thought the gang that held up the stage might be led by a man named Cayce Sloat, but there’s no law anywhere around here to do anything about it.’
Judd pulled himself up higher, stiffening at the sound of that name. ‘You sure of that name?’
‘That’s what they told me.’ She shrugged slightly, handing him the bowl and spoon.
‘Sloat’s dead.’
She stared back at Judd, eyes suddenly wide in disbelief. ‘How could you know anything about that?’
‘Because I killed him.’
‘You what!’
‘Sloat and I shot it out up in Hang Town. That’s how I caught this bullet. He just wasn’t fast enough to do it twice. I was.’
Lacey retreated back across the room to the table. Sitting in a chair, her eyes were still locked on Miller. ‘You’re telling me you killed the man who killed my husband, and now I find you and I’m trying to save you? That’s unbelievable, and if you’re telling me the truth, something like this doesn’t happen by chance. It’s too incredible to believe. It has to be meant to happen this way.’
‘I don’t know about that, but Sloat is dead and buried by now. I’m certain about that.’
Lacey couldn’t believe the sudden turn of events. She lowered her head in both hands, shaking it back and forth, as her mind ran wild. Out of the few people scattered across this vast and lonely land, she’d found this wounded cowboy and taken him in. She was no fool, and didn’t believe in black magic, but this eerie turn of events had to mean something else unforeseen was going to happen too. She wondered what that could possibly be.
Since her husband’s murder, the once startlingly attractive woman had been forced to survive on her own, making a living any way she could. Her frilly dresses were cut up and used for other purposes. She was reduced to wearing a man’s flannel shirt, pants and pull-on boots. Her long auburn hair, once combed and washed frequently, had grown out, and barely fitted under her beat-up cowboy hat. The transformation was so sudden and complete, that the few people who knew her hardly recognized her any more. Jim Langley had just begun to build the dugout cabin when he was killed. His plan was to make it much larger and more comfortable. When Lacey moved in on her own, she picked up a shovel, hammer and nails, and went to work, trying to salvage the dream they’d had together. At the age of twenty-nine, circumstances had forced Lacey Dale to become a reluctant tom boy.
Over the next three weeks Judd steadily regained his health and his wound began to heal. The odd couple thrown together by fate, destiny, or whatever it was, made no plans of any kind about what might happen next. Each seemed content not to speculate out loud as to whether he would finally saddle up and ride away, or stay for other reasons. Both lived from one day to the next, slowly gaining trust in each other to the point where Judd told her about the death of his brother, and how he’d ended up having the showdown with Cayce Sloat.
‘My God, we’ve both been touched by the death of people we’ve loved, through no fault of our own.’ She shook her head, while they sat at a small table after a dinner of sage hen stew. ‘There’s nothing I can do about what happened to my husband, but there is for you. You can go back and try to right the wrongs, and maybe even reclaim your property. If that’s what you mean to do, I’d like to do it with you. There’s nothing much left for me here, except this old dugout. My hopes died with Jim.’
Judd studied her for a moment before answering. ‘You want to invite yourself to go back with me to the killing that’s likely to take place? Because that’s the way it’s going to be. You’d better think twice about what you’re asking for, Lacey.’
‘I’ve seen death close up. I know the pain and loss, but I’m still here, managing to keep my head up, even if I do have to dress like a man and sometimes act like one, too. I’m not going to give up on life just because I’m a woman.’
Miller didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, it was short and to the point.
‘No, I guess you’re not.’
Lacey woke one morning to the sudden sound of rapid gunfire close outside the dugout. Fear instantly gripped her as she kicked the covers off, grabbing the shotgun kept next to the bed, calling out for Judd as she ran for the door. Bursting through the piece of heavy canvas that served as a door, she saw Judd standing forty feet away with a smoking six-gun in his hand.
‘What in the world are you doing?’ she demanded, as he reloaded the pistol.
‘I wanted to see if I’d lost any speed after laying around for so long.’
She lowered her head in relief, slowly trying to calm herself down. ‘Well, have you?’
‘It feels pretty good. I had to find out for myself. These days, just about everything I do seems to end up with me holding a six-gun in my hand. I don’t expect that to change any time soon, so I had to get back to it. Sorry if I startled you. Is there any kind of town anyplace around here?’
‘There is, if you want to call it that. Alkali used to be a stage stop, when they came through here. After several hold-ups and the death of my husband, they shut it down. Before that, years ago, I’m told they had mule teams hauling borax out of there. That ended, too. All that’s left now is a Mexican cantina, a couple of dry goods stores, a sometimes blacksmith’s shop and horse stable, plus some empty buildings that used to be stores. It isn’t much to look at, that’s for sure.’
‘I need another shirt. This one’s a mess, with all the dried blood. Even you washing it didn’t take the stain out. How far away is it?’
‘A day’s ride.’
‘How about we leave in the morning. They don’t have any law there, do they?’
‘No, what for? Nothing ever happens, and there’s no one who’s going to pay for it either. Could I ask you something personal?’ She surprised him with the question.
‘I imagine you can. You’ve been taking care of me long enough. I at least owe you that much.’
‘Did I just find a wounded cowboy, or are you a real gun fighter, Judd?’
He took in a slow breath. The question was so sudden, it took him by surprise. The long, silent stare as they faced each other only grew more uncomfortable.
‘Understand this, Lacey. I didn’t ask for any of what’s happened to me. I was a cowboy rancher along with my brother, like I said. Sooner or later I’m going back to Red Bluffs, to find out who killed my brother, and why. If I have to keep using this six-gun to do that and remain free, I will. I’m not going to let some back-shooter put me six feet under because I wasn’t fast enough to stop him. For now, tomorrow let’s take that ride into Alkali.’
CHAPTER SIX
The late afternoon sun dimmed behind a dirty sky driven by swirling winds. Through the veil of dust, Lacey and Judd saw the first low silhouette of buildings ahead, and a little later rode into Alkali. Its single dirt street was empty except for three hard-ridden horses standing head down at a hitching rail in front of an adobe building with a faded sign ‘Manzanita Cantina’ painted over the entrance. At the far end of the street Judd noticed a boarded-up church with its steeple leaning dangerously, ready to fall. Clearly God-fearing people had already given up on the small town, leaving it to the designs of men.
‘Where’s the dry goods store?’ Judd asked.
‘Right across the street,’ she pointed, as they reined to a halt and dismounted. Climbing the steps up on to the boardwalk, they stepped inside Mort Beckman’s dry goods store.
The old man looked up at the ringing of the little bell over the door. He appeared as old and bent over as the store itself. He used a cane to get around even inside the store. What few shirts he had were kept on a shelf, behind a hand-cranked cash register. Judd asked to see what he had, and tried on three before he found one that fitted.
‘Say, that’s a real nasty wound you got there mister
,’ the proprietor nodded, as Judd buttoned up the new shirt.
‘It could have been worse,’ Judd answered in a matter of fact way.
‘I ain’t seen you for a good while, Miss Dale. How you been?’ Beckman turned to Lacey.
‘I’m all right,’ she smiled back.
‘You still livin’ way out there in that dugout?’
‘For now, I am. But maybe not much longer. This might be the last time I ever see Alkali again.’
‘Well, the few people left around here sure would miss your pretty face, if you did go. I remember those pretty dresses you always wore, before your husband was killed.’
‘That was a different time, and so was Alkali, back then.’
‘It sure was. I’m even thinkin’ about closing down this old store myself. Soon the whole darn town will dry up and blow away, just like everything else around here. If I don’t see you again, here’s hoping the world treats you better than this town did. Your husband was a real good man. A lot of the goodness in Alkali died when he was shot down.’
‘Thank you for saying so, Mr Beckman. Jim had many friends here.’
‘I mean it. I’m not just saying that. Those good ol’ days are gone, and this town is worse off for it. It’s dying out a little at a time, just like the people still left around here.’
Judd paid for the shirt, and Lacey said her goodbyes to the old man before they started for the door. They were making their way out of Beckman’s just as three young Mexican vaqueros stepped outside the Manzanita across the street, joking and talking loudly at each other, until they saw Lacey across the street by the horses. With a bellyful of potent mescal, the trio eyed her salaciously, before one of them shouted out, smiling broadly.
‘Hey gringo, why do you dress your señorita in a man’s baggy pants, shirt and boots. Why are you trying to hide her like dat?’
Judd’s face instantly flushed red with anger at the insult to Lacey. He turned away from saddling up, and faced the three men. Lacey instantly saw the look on his face, reaching to grab him by the shoulder.
‘Don’t listen to them. They’re drunk. Come on, let’s saddle up and get out of here, Judd.’
‘You better listen to the señorita, gringo. You don’t want my amigo here, Juanito, to have to teach you a lesson, do you? He is very fast with a pistola.’ A second Mexican spoke up, putting his arm on Juanito Cisnero’s shoulder, smiling back through broad white teeth.
Judd had been pushed far enough. He took a few more steps farther out into the street, as Lacey tried calling him back. ‘Stay back out of the way,’ he ordered. ‘Get behind the horses.’
As she did so, he called out an answer. ‘You three jaybirds are a little too far north of the border. You’d better get back to whatever mud hut you call home. This isn’t Mexico. I’d say it’s time you learned that.’
The smile on the faces of the trio suddenly disappeared. Cisneros whispered something to his pals about teaching this insulting Americano a lesson, right here on the dirt street of town, adding that he wouldn’t need any help doing so. He adjusted his gun belt before stepping off into the street, the smile returning to his face.
‘So, gringo, I just shoot you down in pieces, so you suffer more. And the señorita won’t want to stay with a cripple. She is too young and beautiful to waste. Maybe I will take her back to Mexico with me, huh?’
‘You make one move for that pistol, and you won’t be riding anywhere. You and your friends better climb back on your horses and get out of here. Either that or your pals will have to buy a two-dollar blanket to bury you in.’
‘OK, gringo. Now I will kill you for your disrespect. Are you ready to die?’
‘I was born ready. Remember, you and your friends wanted it this way.’
The lean Mexican stood poised, legs slightly apart, ready to pull, his dark eyes riveted on the cowboy thirty feet away. Judd Miller would make the fourth man he’d killed, but he’d be the most enjoyable one of all. Cisneros was fast, real fast, and he knew it. His hand stabbed for the pistol, and he did get it clear of the holster, starting it up to fire, but the flash and roar of Miller’s six-gun beat him to it. The sudden smash of hot lead driving deep into his chest, drove him back, fighting to stay on his feet, as his pistol dropped to the ground and he followed it down, rolling on the dirt street.
Suddenly the scene turned into complete chaos. Lacey screamed as the Mexican’s two amigos ran for cover left and right, pulling their pistols to fire. Judd dodged left, crouching slightly, firing a second and third shot, driving one of the men head first off the boardwalk down into the street, grabbing his stomach, screaming in pain. The third man was still running, frantically firing back, when the roar of a rifle shot from behind Judd’s back shattered a glass window as the Mexican ran by, instantly convincing him to throw up his hands and drop his pistol, screaming in fear, suddenly facing two guns instead of one.
‘Don’t shoot . . . I’m disarmed!’
Judd turned just long enough to see Lacey holding the rifle to her shoulder, which she’d yanked from the scabbard on his horse. ‘Keep him covered!’ he shouted, walking across the street to where Cisneros lay shivering in death.
‘I need . . . medico . . .’ the dying man whispered, but the neat, .45-calibre hole in his fancy vest said different, and seconds later his eyes went blank in death.
Lacey prodded the last vaquero up to Judd, keeping the rifle barrel pressed hard on his back. His pleading eyes were wide with fear that he would be killed, too.
‘Here’s his pistol,’ she handed Judd the Mexican’s revolver. Holstering his own six-gun, Judd ejected all the bullets out of the Mexican’s weapon and tossed it into a watering trough nearby.
‘Please señor, do not kill me,’ the vaquero pleaded. ‘In the name of Santa Maria, I beg for mercy!’
Miller gave the terrified man a long, withering look. Seconds earlier this man would have shot down Judd and Lacey without a thought. Now he was pitifully begging for his life. Judd glanced at Lacey, then back to the man. ‘You get on your horse, and get out of here before I change my mind. Don’t look back. Just keep on riding, you understand?’
‘Sí señor. Muchas graçias. I do it now, as you say.’
The vaquero quickly mounted his horse and whipped it away down the street in a rising cloud of dust. Miller turned back to Lacey, just as several store owners cautiously stepped out on to the boardwalk, now that all the killing was over.
‘Let’s get out of here, too. I have to say thanks, Lacey. I didn’t expect you to pull that rifle out and start shooting. But I’m glad you did.’
She stared back at him without blinking, before speaking. ‘I’ve already lost one man in my life who meant something to me. I didn’t want to have that happen again.’
Her bold admission left Judd standing speechless. All he could do was nod slightly, and take her by the arm, heading for the horses to mount up. Starting down the street, one of the store owners called out to him. ‘What are we supposed to do with those bodies?’
‘Bury them,’ Judd called back. ‘It will give the good citizens of Alkali something to do besides watching the rest of this town die with them.’
Arriving back at the dugout, Judd was anxious to pack up and leave, fearing that the shootout in town might draw attention to him from a lot further away than just Alkali. That was a chance he could not take.
‘I’d like to get out of here as soon as we can,’ he told Lacey. ‘There’s nothing left around here for me, and I think we’d make a good pair. I saw that back in town, when I didn’t expect it.’
‘If that’s what you mean to do, I want to go with you.’
‘You know what you’re letting yourself in for, don’t you? When the day comes that I make it back to Red Bluffs, I’m a Wanted man, to be shot on sight. I want to make that plain right now. That’s the kind of life you’d be letting yourself in for.’
‘What kind of life do I have staying here? I’ll take my chances with you, Judd. I understand th
e risks. It doesn’t mean it has to turn out that way, does it?’
‘Maybe not, but it will be hell, one way or the other.’
The pair stayed on at the dugout for the next two days, packing up what little goods and food they wanted to take with them. On the morning of the third day, they saddled up and left, giving the rough-hewn structure one last look as they rode away.
‘Where are we going?’ Lacey asked.
‘I have a friend over the mountains, but we’ll have to skirt the high country to get there, to avoid going through Hang Town, and that will make it a longer ride.’
‘I thought you were a man without friends?’ she kidded him with a small smile.
‘I am, for the most part. I ran into this one by accident. He’s a little on the unusual side, but I think you’ll like him. I know he’ll like you.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘He calls himself Moses Canaan, but that’s not his real name. It’s one he gave to himself.’
‘Is he a man with a fast gun, like you?’
Judd laughed out loud. ‘Moses? No, his weapon is the bible, at least most of the time, if he doesn’t fall back into his old ways. He’s sort of a preacher of his own design. He put me up for a while when I needed it most.’
‘Just like I did?’
‘Yes, just like you did. Wait until you see where he lives.’
‘Is it in a town?’
‘Not exactly – he lives in a cave in the middle of the desert.’
‘A cave!’
‘That’s what I said, but it’s not what you think. It’s really quite a place.’
It took Judd and Lacey three weeks of hard riding through bitter, thorny dry lowlands to skirt the mountains before Judd arrived back in country familiar to him, and headed for Moses’ rock-bound home. The tall man in the stove-pipe hat saw distant dust plumes of riders coming closer. His eyes narrowed, and he shaded them with one hand, trying to make out who it was coming in. He recognized Judd’s horse first, then the rider in the saddle, and his eyes widened as a big smile broke out on his face. Judd Miller was still alive, and he was even bringing in a friend to visit. When Judd had left, Moses had prayed that the Good Lord would protect him, and now his prayers had been answered. Moses did wonder who it was that the man who always rode alone, had riding with him. When the pair reined to a halt, he stepped forward, still smiling, reaching up with his hand and locking it in Judd’s.
