by B. S. Dunn
The roan walked into the yard and he drew it to a halt. No sooner had the animal stopped when Mary-Alice ran up to him, panic in her eyes.
‘You have to leave,’ she blurted out. ‘Go now, he’s here to kill you.’
Curtis knew who she meant but still he asked her, ‘Who is?’
She turned her head and at last, he saw the figure over at the water trough. Reynolds started walking towards him. Curtis gripped the Winchester and a hint of regret ran through him at what was about to happen.
‘I sure wish you hadn’t come, Captain,’ Curtis said.
‘And I wish it could be another way, Jim, but it can’t be. It’s come too far.’
‘I guess it has,’ Curtis acknowledged. ‘Give me a minute to get down?’
Reynolds shrugged. ‘Sure.’
He climbed from the roan and gave the animal a push on its rump. It moved away, leaving the two men facing each other. Curtis moved to his left a fraction to get the sun out of his eyes.
‘How do you want to do this, Captain?’
‘What about we get the lady to call it? Make it even.’
Curtis stared at Reynolds awhile before nodding. ‘All right. We’ll do it that way.’
‘No, I won’t,’ Mary-Alice said.
‘Just do it,’ Curtis snapped. ‘Either way, this finishes here.’
She hesitated, not wanting to be the reason for men dying. ‘All right. I’ll do it.’
The tension grew while both men waited for her to give the word. The silence was palpable and the only thing that could be heard was the buzz of a fly.
Still Mary-Alice remained silent.
Then, without waiting, Curtis moved. The Yellow Boy came up into its firing position and bucked in his hands. The move caught Reynolds off guard and the slug smashed into his chest, burned deep, and exploded out of his back.
Reynolds’ jaw dropped with disbelief at the way Curtis had played it. His eyes bulged and he staggered slightly.
‘Sorry, Captain,’ Curtis said. ‘But like you said, war changes a man.’
With slow deliberate movements, he worked the lever, and the Yellow Boy was ready to fire once more.
Reynolds fought to get his six-gun out of its holster, but fumbled with it, then gave up. He lurched to the side and stared at his former sergeant. He gave him half a smile and closed his eyes.
The Yellow Boy whiplashed, and Reynolds fell, dead before he hit the ground.
The sound of the last shot rolled across the landscape until fading away amongst the distant hills, lost amongst the tall pines. It was followed by a drawn-out silence while the watchers struggled to comprehend the violence they’d just witnessed.
It was Beth who spoke first. ‘You didn’t give him a chance. He was your friend and you didn’t give him a chance.’
Curtis stared at her and said, ‘He would have done the same to me, given the chance. As for being my friend, that was a long time ago.’
‘But it was so cold.’
‘That’s killing. There’s nothing warm about it.’
‘What do we do now?’ Mary-Alice asked.
‘Sling him over his horse. I’ll take him to town with me.’
‘You’re going to town?’
‘Uh huh. This needs to end. Brotherton is the only outstanding problem that’s left. Now that his two main hired guns are dead, he’s vulnerable.’
Curtis walked away from them and headed towards the stables.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Get a horse.’
Mary-Alice watched in silence as he packed things into his saddle-bags, then placed his bedroll behind his saddle. With that done, Curtis rechecked his saddle and stuffed his Yellow Boy into the saddle scabbard.
‘You aren’t coming back, are you?’ It was more a statement than a question.
He turned and looked her in the eyes, noticing that they were starting to fill with tears. Curtis nodded. ‘That’s right.’
‘But why?’
‘It’s time for me to move on. Once this is done, you’ll be fine. You can rebuild, make a life for you and Lester.’
‘How can I rebuild if I have no money?’
‘You have all of that timber on your land. You know what it’s worth. Sell some of it and you’ll have all you need.’
She moved in close to him and grasped his arms. ‘What if I ask you to stay with me?’
A soft smile appeared on Curtis’ face. He gently pushed her away from him. ‘I’m sorry, Mary-Alice. As good as that sounds, it can never be. You deserve better than me.’
Anger flared in her eyes. ‘Like Lester?’
‘Yes. He’s a good man. He cares for you, Mary-Alice. You could do a lot worse.’
‘I want to do worse. I want you, damn it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not, damn you?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’m listening.’
Curtis hesitated. He looked into her eyes and found himself saying. ‘I had a woman. Down in Mexico. She was the most beautiful person I’d ever known. Her name was Nita. We had a son, too. His name was Emilio. We had a small house, not much really, but it was home. Someone found out who I was. The famous El Tigre. Whoever it was told the soldiers about me. We were asleep the night they came for me. But they weren’t happy with killing me, they wanted more. They killed Nita and Emilio. It was only by chance that I didn’t die too. I might as well have.’
Mary-Alice reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm. ‘How terrible it must have been. I’m sorry.’
Curtis shrugged it off. ‘That’s why I can’t stay. Like I said, Lester is a good man, he’ll make you a good husband.’
Realizing that what he said was true, she moved in close and wrapped her arms around him. Her closeness almost made him uncomfortable. Mary-Alice raised herself up and kissed him on his stubbled cheek. She stepped back and said, ‘Thank you. For everything. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be in Opal.’
He grabbed up the reins of Reynolds’ horse and climbed into his own saddle. Once he was comfortable he reached down and touched Mary-Alice on the cheek. ‘Say goodbye to Beth for me.’
She nodded. ‘Be careful, Jim.’
He straightened up and swung the roan away. As he rode out of the yard, she stared long and hard at his back, wishing that he would turn around and come back.
Behind Mary-Alice the door on the house opened. She turned to see Beth standing on the veranda, then make her way down the steps and cross to where Mary-Alice stood. They wrapped their arms around each other as Beth said, ‘He didn’t say goodbye.’
Without taking her eyes off Curtis, Mary-Alice said, ‘You knew?’
‘Had a feeling.’
‘I hope he lives through this to keep going.’
‘I have a feeling he will. Men like Jim Curtis are hard to kill.’
Chapter 17
Curtis stopped the roan at the edge of town and released Reynolds’ horse. He slapped it on the rump and it trotted into town, much to the shock of many of the townsfolk, who stopped to stare at the horse with the body draped over it.
Curtis, however, used the distraction to slip into town on foot, unnoticed. He figured that Brotherton would be at the Silver Aspen, so he moved along the back street until he was at the back of the hotel. He tried the rear door but found it locked. ‘Guess I won’t be going that way again,’ he murmured.
Moving along to the side alley, Curtis found a set of stairs that led up to the second floor of the saloon. He climbed to the top of them and tried the door. It snicked open and he stepped through the opening.
The hallway was narrow and dim, the walls lined with wallpaper and dark timber panelling. With slow, deliberate steps he made his way along the hall. When he reached halfway, a door to his left opened and a scantily-clad whore with dark hair, wearing only underwear and a corset, emerged.
She saw the Yellow Boy in his hands and opened her mouth to scream. Curtis clasped a hand over her ga
ping mouth and cut it off. He whispered, ‘Don’t. I’m only here for Brotherton. Is he downstairs?’
With eyes wide, she shook her head.
‘He’s not?’
She shrugged.
He took his hand away and she spoke with a trembling voice, ‘I don’t know.’
Curtis flicked his eyes towards the room she’d appeared from and said, ‘Go back inside the room. At least for a while, anyway.’
She understood what he was saying and retreated the way she’d come. The door closed behind her and Curtis kept walking.
On reaching the landing, he paused. The whole bar room was visible from where he stood, and he took time to run his gaze over it, unobserved.
And there was Brotherton, sitting at a table with three other men. Big men. Most likely men from his mill. The room was half full, being late in the afternoon. Cigarette smoke was starting to fill it like an early morning mist, and as the night wore on it would only get worse.
The saloon doors crashed open as Curtis was about to cross to the head of the stairs. A man stopped just inside and shouted above the din, ‘The sheriff’s been shot! He’s dead!’
There was uproar in the saloon and chairs scraped back as men, those who were seated, climbed hurriedly to their feet. Brotherton was amongst them.
Curtis watched them jam out through the door and he started down the steps. Once at the bottom he began to cross the room, weaving his way between tables and chairs. He paused before exiting the saloon. Staring out at the crowd on the street, he could hear raised voices as men checked out Reynolds’ corpse.
‘I want that bastard found!’ Brotherton’s curse was audible above the rest of the voices. ‘I’ll pay one thousand dollars to any man who brings me his damn head.’
Voices grew louder as others started to incite more from the crowd. The group began to disperse, leaving Brotherton and his three men standing on the street. Curtis heard him say, ‘Now we’ll get the son-of-a-bitch.’
Curtis cocked the hammer on the Yellow Boy and stepped out on to the boardwalk. ‘I won’t be too hard to locate.’
Brotherton’s eyes widened when he realized who it was. ‘You!’
One of the men beside the timber man panicked and grasped for the butt of his gun. The Winchester moved, and Curtis shot him in the chest. He didn’t worry nor care about shooting him again. The man was hit hard enough to stay down.
Curtis shifted aim as he jacked another round into the Winchester’s breech. The hammer fell on the .44 Henry cartridge and a second man fell. Baring his teeth, El Tigre repeated it once more. When he’d finished, the three men with Brotherton were down in the dirt. Two writhed in pain, while the third was unmoving.
Another bullet was rammed home and the foresight of the Yellow Boy settled on the pale face of Brotherton.
The dispersal of the crowd had stalled with the sound of gunfire, and people were now beginning to regather.
‘There’s the bastard,’ someone called out. ‘He killed our sheriff and now he’s killed three more men. Shoot him, quick.’
‘Wait!’ Brotherton shrieked. ‘Don’t you see where he’s got that gun pointed?’
‘He’s right,’ another man shouted. ‘He’s got it pointed at Mr Brotherton.’
The crowd closed in and Curtis snapped, ‘That’s far enough. I ain’t afraid to kill more of you. Including Brotherton.’
‘Stop!’ Brotherton blurted out. ‘He’ll do it. He’s a killer.’
They did as they were told. Curtis ran his gaze over the faces. He said, ‘I want you all to hear something. When Doug Morris died, he left his ranch to his daughter, Beth. Cody was left with nothing. Which meant that he couldn’t sell the timber on the Circle M range to Brotherton.’
‘How do you know?’ a man asked. ‘The will was never found.’
Curtis noticed the slight smile that touched Brotherton’s lips.
‘Beth has the will at her place.’
‘It has to be fake,’ Brotherton sneered. ‘Why would she have it and not come forward?’
‘I found it,’ Curtis said.
‘Where?’ a voice asked.
‘Yes, where?’ Brotherton demanded.
Flint-hard eyes settled on the timber man. ‘In Brotherton’s office, right before I burned it.’
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
‘Lies!’ Brotherton snapped. ‘All lies.’
Ignoring him, Curtis continued. ‘Cody killed his own father. Why? I can only assume that he and Brotherton had some kind of deal worked out, because no sooner was Doug Morris dead, Cody sold the timber rights to Brotherton.’
‘Don’t believe him,’ Brotherton pleaded.
‘Every bad thing that has happened lately is because of Brotherton. The sheriff being killed so he could bring in his own man to replace him, Hennessy the livery owner was killed by Vince. Mary-Alice’s spread was burned and most of the cattle shot, even the stage hold-up was done on his say-so. But the killing didn’t start here. It began months ago in a town called Opal, near Abilene. That was where Andrews shot and killed Mary-Alice’s husband because they were coming here to take up land. Land that Brotherton wanted for its timber.’
‘Lies!’ Brotherton shrieked, spittle flying from his lips. ‘Lies! Can’t you see? He’s the killer. Not me. I’ve killed no one.’
‘The only liar here is you,’ Curtis said to him. ‘But now, it’s all over. You’re finished.’
‘The only one around here that’s finished, you bastard, is you,’ Brotherton cried out and his hand went for his gun.
The man was so worked up that he fumbled it before he got it halfway clear of leather. Then, once it did clear, he dropped it because his hands were shaking so much. He looked up and saw the Yellow Boy still trained on his chest. He glanced up at Curtis and gave him a half smile.
El Tigre bared his teeth, and Brotherton died.
The Yellow Boy roared for one final time and the slug burned deep into the timber man’s chest. He collapsed on to the street and didn’t move.
Curses from the crowd brought the Winchester around to cover a group of four men who tried to surge forward. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’
‘Do you think you’ll get out of town alive?’
‘He will,’ another voice grated.
The group turned to face the new challenge. This one carried a cut-down messenger gun. Which made him formidable even though he was in a wheelchair. Lester said, ‘Any one of you so much as moves, I’ll unload both barrels.’
Curtis smiled to himself. Lester had come a long way.
‘You all right, Jim?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, fine.’
‘All right you hombres, get the hell off the street. This man just saved your damned town from a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’
They frowned at him and he snapped, ‘Get! Go on.’
The crowd dispersed.
‘Hold it! You timber men are forgetting something. Clean your leavings off the street.’
Curtis watched on as the bodies of the dead were cleared away, and then he walked over to where Lester and the doctor were. ‘Thanks for that. I guess I owe you.’
‘Owe me, be damned. You’ve taught me a lot in a short piece of time.’
Holding out his right hand, Curtis said, ‘I’ll be seeing you, Lester.’
Lester frowned. ‘Are you leaving?’
‘Yeah. Time to move on. It’s all over. Brotherton is dead, so are his gun hands.’
‘What about Mary-Alice?’
‘What about her?’
‘Does she know you’re leaving?’
‘She does. I’ve said my goodbyes. You take good care of her.’
Lester nodded. ‘Take care, Jim. Don’t forget to come back and visit.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Curtis said, but he knew, as did Lester, that it wouldn’t happen. ‘ ’Bye, Doc.’
‘ ’Bye, Jim.’
Lester watched him walk away along the main street. He turned his head back to the docto
r and said, ‘Can we go back now?’
‘Sure.’
When Curtis reached the outskirts of town where he’d left the roan, he slid the Yellow Boy back into the saddle scabbard and climbed into the saddle. He sat there for a moment looking back along the street. He could just make out the doctor wheeling Lester away.
‘I guess we’re done, horse,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s ride.’
Turning the roan about, he pointed him east. Maybe this time he’d reach Abilene.
