by B. S. Dunn
Curtis waited for her to continue.
‘We were headed west to a valley where the grass is green and there’s acres for the taking. We had paper for it and all. We got this far before he was killed by some man he had never seen before. Said he stole money from his saddle-bags the night before we were set to continue our journey.’
‘Did he?’
Delilah looked offended. ‘No! He would never do that. He didn’t need to because we had over a thousand dollars of our own.’
‘If you had that much money, why are you still here?’
‘Because it was stolen the night my husband was killed. But no one would listen. They figured I was lying to clear his name even after he was dead.’
Curtis thought some and came to the conclusion that her husband had been killed because of the land.
‘How long ago did that happen?’
‘Two months.’
That’s why she still had spirit.
‘And you ended up with a job here as a whore.’
‘I had nothing. No money and nowhere to go. When the money was taken, the papers were, too. Lester was decent enough to take me in. If nothing else, he’s a sweet man. The idea of . . . of selling myself, was mine alone.’
‘Where is the place you were headed?’
‘Swiftcreek. It’s at the foot of the mountains to the west. Many miles from here. We were told the place we were to get had grass for cattle and all the trees for lumber we would need to build our home.’
‘What’s your name?’ Curtis asked.
‘Delilah.’
‘Your real name?’
She turned red. ‘Mary-Alice Condon.’
Curtis smiled at her. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mary-Alice.’
‘Delilah! Customers waiting,’ Lester called to her.
‘I have to go,’ she said and climbed to her feet. ‘Thank you for what you did.’
El Tigre nodded and said, ‘Ma’am.’
No sooner had she gone back to work when another shadow loomed over him. Curtis looked up and saw Vince.
‘Mind if I sit?’ he asked.
‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On whether you figure on trying to kill me for dropping your boy.’
Vince shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘Take a seat then,’ Curtis told him and dropped his hand under the table so it was close to the butt of the Remington.
‘Fact is,’ Vince said after he was seated, ‘I was hoping to offer you a job since you caused me to be one man short.’
‘That was his doing, not mine.’
‘Granted. But it don’t change the fact I’m still short a man.’
‘All right,’ said Curtis. ‘I’m listening.’
‘We’re riding to join up with a feller who wants some extra hands. Got himself a lumber business in a valley loaded with tall pines. Only problem is, others were there before him and he’s having trouble getting them to sell. He stands to make a fortune from the timber and he’s willing to pay for it.’
Curtis thought carefully before he spoke next. ‘Where is this place?’
‘Swiftcreek. West of here at the foot of the mountains.’
Curtis shook his head. ‘I’m headed to Abilene. This was just a stopover for me.’
‘You sure? Pay’s good. Five hundred a man. Shouldn’t take longer than a week to sort it out.’
‘Sounds to me like the feller who’s doing the hiring wants more than just to buy these folks out.’
Vince’s face remained passive. ‘Whatever it takes.’
Curtis shook his head. ‘Nope. Like I said. I’m headed to Abilene.’
Vince sighed. ‘Too bad. Be seeing you around, Curtis.’
He got up from the table and couldn’t resist another attempt before he left. ‘You know where to find me if you change your mind.’
Chapter 2
‘Get up. We’re leaving,’ Curtis said as he ripped the curtain back from the sole window of the rough-built shack.
‘What?’ Mary-Alice was bemused.
‘I said get up.’
She sat erect in her bed, the blankets falling away to reveal her top half. She rubbed at her eyes so they would focus against the light. Beside her, another form stirred. It was Lester.
‘Go away,’ came the muffled voice from the face buried in the stained pillow.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Curtis asked.
‘It’s his shack. We share it,’ Mary-Alice paused. Then, ‘Just what the hell are you doing here?’
‘Get dressed and I’ll explain on the way.’
‘The way where?’
‘To that valley you and your husband were going to.’
She flopped on to her back. ‘Now I know you’re full of crap.’
‘Damn it,’ Curtis cursed. He stepped forward to rip the covers back and exposed the two naked forms beneath them.
‘Get out!’ Mary-Alice screeched, and Lester rolled out of the bed and sprang to his feet. He cocked his fists, fully awake, and made to meet the threat.
He danced about and cursed, ‘Come on, you son of a bitch, I’ll have you.’
El Tigre shook his head. ‘Get dressed before you get hurt. You might as well come too. No sense in you staying around here. You’ll be out of business and dead within a month.’
Lester stared at Mary-Alice. ‘Do you have any idea of what he is talking about?’
‘Not one.’
Curtis bit back a curse and said, ‘OK. Both of you just shut up and listen. I’ll say this only once. I’m riding out of here and heading west to a place called Swiftcreek.’
Mary-Alice’s eyes widened. ‘That’s it, you heard me right. That feller I shot yesterday was headed there with his pards. Seems they were hired to do some killing for a man who’s trying to monopolize the timber.’
Lester frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Shut up, Lester,’ Curtis snapped. ‘If what they say is true, then there is a good chance that your husband was murdered for the land and the papers you had on it. The money was just a bonus. Now, if you wish, you can tag along and just maybe there is a chance to get your land back. But it will be dangerous. Are you in?’
Lester said, ‘No. I. . . .’
‘Hell yes, I’m in,’ Mary-Alice almost shouted. ‘Just wait for me to get dressed.’
Curtis looked at Lester. ‘You want to change your mind?’
The saloon owner’s shoulders slumped. ‘All right, I’ll come.’
‘You’ll need horses and supplies. Guns and ammunition, too.’
Lester paled, ‘Oh, I. . . .’
‘Shut up, Lester. Just do it.’
An hour later they rode west out of Opal with Lester leading the packhorse loaded with their supplies.
‘We’re being followed,’ said Curtis without taking his eyes off the trail ahead.
Lester turned in the saddle. ‘I can’t see anything.’
‘They’re there,’ Curtis assured him.
‘Who?’
‘White men. At first I thought they were Indians, but they’re not.’
‘What will we do?’ Mary-Alice asked, uncertainty in her voice.
‘Let them make the first move. They’re back there to our right, in the trees. They may leave us alone, but I doubt it. They’ve been there for the past hour.’
They kept on until dark and still the men following them remained out of sight. It wasn’t until Curtis and the others were sitting around the campfire that they came in.
‘I sure wish they’d do something,’ Lester said as he poked at the fire with a stick. ‘This waiting will be the death of me.’
Curtis eared back the hammer on the Yellow Boy and said, ‘Looks like you’ll get your wish.’
‘Huh?’
They came out of the darkness. Three men. The men wore fringed buckskins and fur hats. They were unshaven and filthy. Curtis figured that if the breeze had been blowing the right way he probably would have smelled them, too. Their ey
es told Curtis all he needed to know.
The three men remained silent as they ran their hungry gazes over Mary-Alice.
‘You fellers going to speak, or just gawk at the woman all night?’
The man who stood to the fore shifted his gaze and said, ‘I’ll give you twenty dollars for the woman.’
Mary-Alice gasped.
Lester came to his feet and said, ‘She ain’t for sale.’
‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ the man snapped. He stared at Curtis. ‘I was asking him. I mean to have her. We just need to settle on a price.’
Curtis stared at him across the fire and could see the wanton expression on his face. If they took Mary-Alice they would use her up and then kill her or sell her to the next man they came across.
‘Friend, I’ll give you and your pards one minute to turn your sorry asses around and get the hell out of here. After that, you’ll be feeding the wolves.’
They never moved.
El Tigre nodded. ‘OK. Have it your way.’
The one who spoke shifted his stare to Mary-Alice. ‘Ma’am, I suggest you move away from these fellers a touch just so you’re out of the way.’
Curtis was done with talk. His next move was to act. And he did so with a sudden fury.
The Yellow Boy came around with practised ease and lined up on the man. The weapon roared, and a .44 Henry slug exploded from the barrel in a flash of flame.
The man’s head snapped back as the bullet smashed through his skull. He crumpled to the damp ground at his feet and didn’t move.
The leader of the bunch made a move before his friend had finished falling. His right hand flashed across his body to pull a six-gun, but was barely wrapped around it by the time Curtis had levered and squeezed the trigger on the Yellow Boy again. The bullet hammered into his chest and he stumbled back until his feet got tangled and he fell.
Curtis came to his feet and worked the lever once more. The Yellow Boy came into line with the third man, and when he realized he was about to die, he abandoned all hope of drawing his gun and threw his arms in the air.
‘Don’t shoot!’ his high-pitched scream dripped with fear. ‘I ain’t going for my gun.’
‘You should have,’ Curtis said, his voice like ice, and squeezed the trigger.
The shot rocked the night, and the man was thrust back and fell beside his friends.
Mary-Alice watched on in horrified silence at the coldness of the man in their midst. Lester said in a high-pitched voice, ‘What did you do that for? He wasn’t going to shoot.’
‘And maybe if I let him go he wouldn’t have trailed us in the hope of getting some sort of revenge for his friends,’ Curtis snarled. ‘Wake up, man. This country is dangerous. Out here you can be killed every day. Make yourself useful and drag them out beyond the camp.’
Lester looked as though he was going to protest, but a glare from Curtis silenced any words in his throat.
Mary-Alice looked at him with a wide-eyed gaze. ‘You killed them. All three of them.’
‘Seemed like the thing to do at the time.’
Her expression hardened. ‘Good. I’m pleased. They were animals.’
Curtis said to Lester, ‘Take care of her. I’ll be back.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To find their horses. No sense in leaving them.’
Later that evening, after the others had turned in, Curtis was out beyond the firelight on watch when a noise brought him alert: Mary-Alice came out of the darkness.
‘You should be asleep,’ he told her as she sat beside him.
‘I couldn’t. Not after what happened. What makes people do things like that?’ Mary-Alice asked.
He knew exactly what men would do when the circumstances were right. He’d experienced it first hand. As a result, he’d changed. Gone was the man he’d once been. And along came ‘El Tigre’. A man devoid of emotion except the one to help people in their time of need. Even if he had to kill to do it.
‘It’s the way some folks are,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen things that people should never have to. It’s a brutal world. Maybe one day things’ll get better.’
‘How long before we get to Swiftcreek?’
‘Another week or so.’
‘Do you think it will be bad?’
‘It always is.’
Chapter 3
‘Who do you think he is?’ Mary-Alice asked.
Curtis knelt beside the dead man and went through his pockets. He found nothing to identify him. All he found was a watch and a couple of dollars.
‘He’s been shot in the back, twice,’ Curtis pointed out. ‘Maybe sometime this morning.’
‘Is this what you meant by trouble?’ Mary-Alice asked him.
Curtis nodded. ‘Let’s get you both into town and I’ll find out what I can about all this.’
The sound of distant hoofbeats grew louder and El Tigre turned to look. Four riders bobbed in the saddle as they appeared over a small hill to the north. He walked across to his roan and took the Yellow Boy from its scabbard.
‘Do you think they mean to cause us trouble?’ Lester asked.
‘Never can be too careful.’
Lester reached down to draw his Henry. Curtis stopped him. ‘Leave it be. I got this. You just keep an eye on Mary-Alice.’
He hesitated. ‘OK.’
The riders came to a stop before them. Three men and a woman. ‘Look!’ the blonde-headed lady said, pointing at the body in the grass. ‘He’s killed Eric.’
Six-guns came clear of leather and pointed in Curtis’ direction. Hammers were thumbed back and fingers whitened on triggers.
‘Whoa there,’ Curtis said in a loud voice. ‘I ain’t responsible for this.’
‘You’re here and you have a rifle in your hands,’ a younger man accused.
‘And I’ll use it if you don’t point them guns in another direction because this feller was dead when we got here. Shot in the back.’
‘Something a coward like you would do for your boss,’ the young man hissed.
‘Kid,’ Curtis cautioned, ‘if you keep that up, I’ll make you eat that gun and you’ll shit bullets for a week.’
‘Easy, Cody,’ an older man warned him. ‘Let’s hear him out.’
Curtis ran his gaze over the man. He was in his fifties, had grey hair and a weathered face. The woman was in her twenties and Curtis guessed she was his daughter. The other two, Cody included, were probably around the same age.
‘We just got here today,’ Curtis told him. ‘Found the body just like it was. Figured to ride into town and report it.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Curtis. Jim Curtis. This here is Mary-Alice and Lester.’
The man nodded. ‘I heard of you. Killer, I’m told. But no one ever mentioned you plugging a feller in the back. So I guess maybe you don’t work for Brotherton.’
‘He doesn’t,’ Mary-Alice exclaimed. ‘None of us do.’
‘Is that right, missy?’ the man said.
‘I didn’t catch your name,’ Curtis pointed out.
‘Morris,’ the man said. ‘Doug Morris. My daughter is Beth. Cody is my son, and this feller is Quint. We own this land back into the foothills. The dead man is Eric Fellows, my foreman.’
‘Sounds like you know who’s responsible.’
Morris nodded. ‘Uh huh. Bernard Brotherton. B.B. as he likes to be called. He’s trying to buy up all of the land around here, just for the timber. He’s run people off a couple of times, but so far, no one has died before now. I guess it’s a sign of what’s to come.’
‘I beg to differ,’ Mary-Alice cut in.
‘What’s that, ma’am?’
‘Someone has died before now,’ she said.
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because it was my husband they killed.’
‘Ma’am?’
‘We were coming to Swiftcreek to take up land. My husband was accused of a crime and killed for it. The man responsible took all of
the money we had and the papers we had for the land.’
Morris studied her. ‘Do you remember where the land was?’
‘A small valley north of town with a creek running through it, and it backed on to a large stand of trees we were to use to build our home. Do you know it?’
Morris nodded. ‘Brotherton land.’
‘Ma’am,’ Beth Morris interjected. ‘What did the man look like? Did he have a name?’
Mary-Alice thought back and nodded. ‘Ike something.’
‘Ike Andrews?’
‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘Brotherton man,’ Morris said. ‘I guess you’re telling the truth.’
‘Why would I lie?’
‘Yes, why indeed?’
‘I’d like to offer my services,’ Curtis said unexpectedly.
‘What?’
‘I want a job and I’d like you to hire me.’
‘Why on earth would I do that?’
Curtis said, ‘Because you have more trouble coming.’
He went on to tell them about his stopover in Opal.
‘They told you this?’ Morris asked.
‘Yeah.’
The rancher thought for a time and then shook his head. ‘Nope. Hiring you would only bring us more trouble.’
‘It’s coming whether you like it or not. It’s time to make the choice on how you want to meet it.’
‘Nope,’ Morris said again.
Curtis started to ease his horse forward. ‘Come on.’
‘Where are you going?’ Morris snapped.
‘Town.’
Swiftcreek’s main street was a churned-up mess from all the heavy wagons that ran back and forth from the Brotherton Sawmill. As he rode along it, Curtis wondered why the town would stand for it when there was an alternative route around town.
Apart from the ugly scarification the town itself looked rather inviting. The false fronts on all the shops seemed new, and most of the canvas which had once extended out the back from them had been replaced with new lumber.
There were three saloons, a jail, an assayers’ office, plus other amenities that were necessary for a growing town.
Curtis eased his horse to a halt outside a small false-fronted business with a shingle out front that read ‘Lands Office’.
