The Loner 6

by Sheldon B. Cole

  He turned at the top of the stairway, removed his hat and smoothed down his thick red hair. Cleaning his palm on his shirt front, he knocked on a door marked with the numeral seven. The door opened in a moment and Traversi’s gaze swept up and down the woman who stood there. He made no attempt to disguise his appreciation over what he saw.

  The woman reddened and stepped back. “Come in, Sheriff Traversi. I’m grateful you could come.”

  “Pleasure is mine, Miss Adamson,” Traversi said. After closing the door behind him, he took a keener look at her. She had delicate features and her eyes, dark and thoughtful mostly, were clouded now. She held herself with dignity and reserve and returned his look calmly.

  “You’ve always been considerate to me, Sheriff Traversi.”

  “Ma’am, it’d be hard for any man to be otherwise.”

  Miss Adamson blushed a little more. But a smile touched her lips. Traversi crossed the room and stood against the wall looking back at her with the night noises drifting in from the street below the window.

  “I ... I’d like to ask a favor of you,” she said hesitantly.

  Traversi regarded her calmly. “What is it?”

  “It’s about my father. I know you must have noticed the cattle that were brought to town just on sundown today, and the man who was with them.”

  “Two men,” Traversi said.

  “Yes. But I’m talking about the older one of them. He’s my father, Ben Adamson. I haven’t seen him for a year now, since I left home.”

  Traversi showed keener interest. “So?” he asked.

  “I saw that he’d been hurt and he looked so tired. I think something troublesome has happened to him. When I left home we had a terrible argument and I’m not sure if he wants to speak to me again. But I am worried about him, driving all those cattle with only one man to help him, and wounded. We both know what a wild town this is, with so many men coming and going, and most of them not beyond causing a man with so many cattle some trouble. So ...” Her voice trailed off.

  “So?” Traversi said.

  Joyce Adamson passed the tip of her tongue across her lips and took in a slow, deep breath. Her bosom rose and Traversi’s eyes preyed on their roundness.

  “I’d like you to help him if you could. He’s old and stubborn but he’s a good man. I’d be ever so grateful.”

  Traversi ran a big hand through his red hair, “How grateful, ma’am?”

  Joyce stiffened. “Well, I’d be always in your debt, Sheriff Traversi. I don’t know exactly how I could repay you. But I’d always think of you as a man kind enough to ...”

  “You could ask Cherry to do it for you,” Traversi said, his voice thickening a little. “Why don’t you do that?”

  “But he’s not the sheriff; you are. It’s your duty to protect people.”

  “It was Cherry who helped you before, ma’am. What’d you give him for that?”

  Traversi pushed himself away from the wall and took a step towards her. Joyce backed off in fright, letting out a tight gasp of alarm. She was immediately aware of his intentions and her face paled.

  He said, “Dane Cherry, the dude man, with his fine manners and cool ways, he’d get plenty, wouldn’t he, like he’s been gettin’ all along from you. Don’t try to fool me, ma’am, I know what goes on in this town. You and him, you been havin’ a real wild time together, ain’t you?”

  Joyce reached the wall and looked about anxiously.

  But Traversi propped a hand up on the wall on one side and leaned towards her, blocking the way. He was grinning broadly now, clearly enjoying her uneasiness. His eyes went to her bosom and then down her stomach, hips and legs.

  “No, you’re wrong,” Joyce cried out. “Dane Cherry is a friend of mine. He respects me.”

  “He’s gettin’ you, ma’am, and I been watchin’ and knowin’ for some time and been figurin’ how to cut myself in for a slice of you. You got your hooks into me, ma’am, in a way that stops me sleepin’ sound of a night.” He shook his head and a curl of red hair fell across his right eyebrow. He didn’t bother to put it back in place.

  Joyce shook her head anxiously again. “But you have your own woman. You have Maria.”

  “Maria ain’t you, ma’am. Maria is her and you are you and I aim to have some of you. All I want, in fact.”

  Joyce drove a hand at his chest but Traversi’s hand clamped on her fingers, turning them back. Joyce let out a cry of pain and he brought her hard against him and held her there, her soft body flattened against his wide chest. He chuckled as she struggled and Joyce finally realized that he was enjoying the contact of her body. She tried to wrest her hand free to claw at him, but when his strength proved too much for her, she snapped:

  “You wouldn’t try this if Dane Cherry was here, would you? He’d fix you properly.”

  Traversi’s smile faded and a hint of anger came into his eyes. “That dude couldn’t do nothin’ to me, ever, ma’am. Ain’t nobody in this town could, so you just stop fightin’ me and give me what I come for and maybe I’ll see that your father ain’t harmed.”

  Traversi tilted her head back and planted his lips on hers. When Joyce twisted away, he ran his mouth down the side of her neck, finally biting the top button off her blouse. He spat it onto the floor and pushed his face down into the swell of white flesh. Joyce cried out and fought him off fiercely, then the door opened and Dane Cherry burst into the room. Before Traversi could wheel about, Cherry’s gun butt cracked down on the back of his head. Traversi’s legs buckled under him, and his head hit his knees. He fell forward.

  Joyce stepped back from him, face dead white.

  “It’s all right now,” Cherry said.

  Joyce lifted her hands to her face. She stood there, sobbing, while Cherry looked coolly at Red Traversi.

  Finally he said, “Throw some things into a bag and let’s get to hell out of this place.”

  Joyce quickly gathered some clothes from her dresser and packed them into a carpetbag. When Cherry escorted her out of the saloon the back way, she said:

  “My father came with a herd of cattle this afternoon. I want to go to him.”

  Dane Cherry looked at her. “Your pa? That was him?”

  Joyce nodded. “I’ve got to see him. Please, Dane.”

  Cherry shrugged. “Why not? Guess you’ll be safe enough with him.” He took her across the yard.

  Three – “You’re Gonna Hang!”

  The night wind was cool as Ben Adamson and Blake Durant moved along the corral rails, inspecting the cattle. The steers had settled down and were standing close-bunched, their heads down.

  “First thing in the morning, I’ll seek a couple of reliable hands,” Ben Adamson told Durant. “I’d sure like you to tag along until I get the herd home. Then maybe you’ll stay on a while. Be good to have somebody about the place for a change.”

  Blake nodded. Over a good meal of steak with lashings of thick rich gravy he had learned a lot more about Adamson. And what he learned he liked. Adamson was old stock, the kind that took every hardship in his stride. He could see no barrier to their becoming firm friends.

  Looking for Weedon, they continued on to the porch of the yard office. Adamson was climbing the narrow steps when a shot broke the silence. The echo of the shot had not died when a second bullet tore Blake Durant’s hat from his head and a third smashed out the window of the office. Heeling about, his gun coming to hand speedily, Durant saw three furtive figures moving against the line of rails. The cattle were moving, shuffling about, lifting dust from the floor of the yard. Sparing a quick look Adamson’s way, Blake saw that the old man had hit the porch boards.

  He called out, “Stay put!” as he broke into a run. A volley of shots smashed into the porch rail, sending splinters flying. More shots cracked into the wall and bullets howled about Durant’s head as he charged down to the end of the rails. The three gun hands had backed off a few yards and spaced themselves. Durant dropped to the ground and opened fire. He heard a man bello
w in pain. A second emptied his gun and then broke into a frenzied run, leaving his two companions to fend for themselves.

  With Durant’s bullets smashing into the rails, the cattle began to mill about in panic. A section of the herd pounded the rails, threatening to break through and stampede into the prairie beyond the town. Durant realized that at any moment they would crash out, so he rose from the ground and ran across the open stretch, drawing the bullets of the attackers after him. Ben Adamson was shouting something at him when a bullet ripped through his flying range coat. He turned and saw a crouched figure outlined against the faint light from the street lamps.

  Durant had no option but to shoot to kill. His gun bucked and two bullets pounded into the gun hand. The man spun, then he fell.

  Turning sharply back on his own tracks, Blake Durant saw that Ben Adamson’s gun was forcing the other two back down the rails. Now they broke into a run. Durant held his fire. In the silence which settled now, he and Adamson came together and walked the rails, then:

  “Hold it there!”

  Blake Durant turned his back to the rails. Before him, walking fast, was a tall man with a tin star on his shirt, his face indistinct in the bad light, a gun gleaming in his hand. Ben Adamson said tightly, “Leave this to me, Durant. I can handle it.”

  The lawman’s face became more distinct as he came up until, finally, Blake could see his features clearly, bitterness dragging on his cheeks, set jaw and hard, black eyes.

  As he stopped before Durant, the gun leveled, two other figures loomed up behind him.

  The lawman growled, “Check him out,” indicating with an abrupt wave of his hand the man lying unmoving on the ground. One of the other two went off and from a distance called back, “It’s Rick Eggert, Lem. He’s dead.”

  Blake saw the lawman’s face jolt. His lips turned back in a snarl.

  “You’ll hang for this mister.”

  Ben Adamson stepped forward, saying, “Now hold on, Deputy. Best you get the facts straight.”

  “Shut down. I’m doing the talking here, mister.”

  “To hell I will shut down! These jaspers ...”

  The deputy stepped forward and palmed Ben Adamson back to the rails. Then he took Durant by the shoulder and shoved him forward. “Move!”

  Blake went a step forward, then Ben Adamson lunged from the rails and grabbed at the deputy, who hurled him away again, as the other two closed in, guns ready. Adamson stopped dead under the threat of the guns and Blake Durant planted his feet wide.

  “You’ll hear me out,” he said defiantly.

  “Later, mister. I said to move, so do it. You killed the judge’s son and Judge Eggert loved that boy. You’re in a whole mess of trouble.”

  Blake drew in a ragged breath as Ben Adamson bought in again. “What kind of lawman are you, not letting an honest man speak his piece? I’m telling you, deputy, Durant here ...”

  “Shut him up,” the deputy said coldly and one of the other two stepped forward and brought his gun butt down hard on Adamson’s head. As the rancher fell, Deputy Lem Edey pushed Durant forward again and snarled out, “Leave him there. He won’t be any trouble. Go get Red. And you, Day, fetch the judge.”

  Blake went stumbling after another shove from Edey. The deputy’s gun dug into his back and he realized argument was useless here. They passed the dead man and Edey growled, “Mister, you done it now, real good.”

  Blake gave the dead man a look and then took in silence the deputy’s constant pushing. They went across the street with the other two running off down the town. Outside the jailhouse, Deputy Edey drove his gun into Blake’s back again and prodded him inside. The light of the big front room made Blake blink and before his eyes had become accustomed to the glare properly, Edey had his cell keys. He motioned for Blake to go ahead, then he held his gun on him in his left hand while he opened the cell door. When Blake hesitated, Edey grabbed his shoulder and hurled him inside.

  Blake stopped just short of the low bunk and turned back to see the cell door shut on him. He turned fiercely to Edey, who answered his angry look with a sneer.

  “The judge, he dearly loved his boy, Durant. Sit and think about that.”

  Blake made fists of his hands and tried to fight down his anger. The injustice of the affair rankled him. But for the moment he couldn’t see what he could do to get himself a measure of justice. The cards were stacked against him.

  Edey pounded back across the room and stood in the doorway, his body stiff with tension. A full minute went by before he called back, “They’re comin’ now, Durant, so if you know any prayers, start sayin’ ’em.”

  Blake Durant walked to the cell bars and grabbed them hard. His mounting fury made his body go cold. He heard the footsteps coming fast up the boardwalk and breathed a curse. Then he stood there and waited. There was nothing else he could do.

  Joyce Adamson gave a gasp of horror as she saw her father being pushed along the street to the jailhouse.

  “Hold it,” Dane Cherry said and dropped a restraining hand on her arm. Joyce tried to pull clear but he tightened his grip, adding, “That looks like a mess of trouble. We’d better stay out of it for now.”

  “But that’s Pa, Dane. What are they doing to him?”

  “Looks like they’re crowding him,” Cherry said. “And they can sure do that real well. No sense in stepping into it, not after the trouble you’ve already had with Traversi. If they see us together, Traversi will come after my hide.”

  Joyce tried to twist away but she couldn’t break Cherry’s grip. They were in the shadows at the back of the yards where they had hurried when the shooting started. Knowing the threat of a cattle stampede, Dane Cherry had carefully picked his position against a store wall.

  “They hit Pa, Dane. They knocked him down!”

  “Seen that, but it’s done now. Now listen to me, I can’t get involved any more. You run into that and you can only make things worse. Besides, it looks like it’s over.”

  Joyce Adamson bit her lip and pushed the hair back from her face. She watched anxiously as Deputy Lem Edey forced the big man across the street. When the other two went off, leaving her father lying on the ground, she sobbed.

  “Please, Dane, let me go to him.”

  “Couple of more minutes and then we’ll both go to him,” Cherry said. He released his grip on her arm as Edey neared the jailhouse. When the other two had run down the main street boardwalk and Edey had taken his prisoner into the jailhouse, Cherry moved off. Joyce, keeping pace with him for a few steps, suddenly ran to where her father lay. By the time Cherry caught up with her, she had lifted her father’s head from the dust. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Cherry said, “He’ll be all right.”

  Joyce hugged Ben Adamson’s head to her bosom. When the old man finally stirred, Cherry helped him to his feet. With Adamson slumped groggily against him, Cherry drew him back along the rails. Before they reached the end of the street, Adamson was struggling to fend for himself.

  “Pa, are you all right?” Joyce asked.

  Adamson opened his eyes, blinked and then looked at her disbelievingly. “Joyce?”

  “Yes, Pa, it’s me.”

  “How in all hell ...” Adamson began, then he shrugged off Dane Cherry’s grip and studied him frowningly.

  Cherry explained, “You tangled with the town deputy, Adamson. They took your big friend off to the cells.”

  Adamson let out a curse. “They took Durant off?”

  “At gunpoint. Seems he’s got himself into a big parcel of trouble, which you better stay out of. Nobody can help him against that crowd.”

  Adamson eased Cherry aside. After giving his daughter a worried look, he snapped, “I’ve got to go to him. I have to explain how it was. Durant killed in self-defense.”

  “Killed who?” Cherry asked.

  “The judge’s son, they said. They wouldn’t listen to Durant or me. I can’t let them get away with this. I’ve got to back him up—I’m the only one who can
.”

  Cherry smoothed down the ruffled front of his vest, feeling uncomfortably warm despite the coolness of the night wind. All his life women had meant trouble for him. Maybe Joyce Adamson was worth it, but he couldn’t let himself get involved any deeper than he was. Of course, if Traversi knew who had hit him from behind, then it wouldn’t matter.

  “Look,” Cherry said to Adamson, “I think you’d better keep well out of this. Eggert plays along with the sheriff and the deputy. The only help you can give Durant by putting your nose in further is to provide him with a cell mate.”

  Joyce saw indecision in her father’s face and spoke. “Listen to Dane, Pa. He knows this town. And he’s right. You can’t beat them. Nobody can. The whole town bows to them.”

  “I don’t give a damn about that!” Adamson snorted. “Durant’s helped me getting my cattle this far and again just now.” He studied them both, looking for understanding but seeing none in their faces. He then told them what had happened, beginning with the ambush on the trail drive and ending with the gunfight they had just witnessed.

  “Can you expect me to leave a friend like that to fend for himself?” he asked finally, his voice hoarse with impatience.

  Joyce, remembering the stubborn anger of her father in the past, knew that nothing she could say would deter him from his determination to stand by a loyal friend. So she remained silent, worried for him and for herself.

  Dane Cherry answered curtly, “I’m telling you that any attempt to help Durant will only get you into deeper trouble, Adamson. There’s a chance that Traversi and Edey won’t be able to make their charge against Durant stick; a very slim chance. Until we know for sure, I suggest that you cool down.” Cherry caught the concern in Joyce’s face and sighed wearily. “But I’ve been a fool before,” he muttered.

  Joyce brightened immediately and touched his arm. “Then you’ll help, Dane? What can you do?”

  “I can drift across and see what’s happening. Best you get your father to my place and lay low. And for hell’s sake stay there till I come back. I’ll report to you as soon as I know what’s going on.”