The Tylers 2

by Neil Hunter

  Kyle Retford pushed his hat to the back of his head. ‘I heard what you and your kin did up at Hope. Don’t make no kind of difference to me. You come in here and gun down my boys, well, mister, there’s only one way out after that. I’m going to hang you, Tyler, hang you high and let the vultures have you. What you got to say to that?’

  ‘Sounds like a neat way of solving your problem, but it doesn’t help me much, so I’ll have to drop out.’

  Jacob’s words were delivered so calmly, so unexpectedly, that there was momentary indecision among Retford’s crew. His reaction had taken them unaware. He should have been worried, if not alarmed, but here he was, talking as though he was turning down an invitation to a tea-party.

  Jacob had hoped for the reaction he got, and in the few seconds he had he moved fast. He came up out of his seat easily, his rifle sliding into his hands, cocked and ready. All he needed were three steps to his right, then in through the saloon door, then through the saloon to his waiting horse and away. It sounded easy, too easy, and Jacob didn’t expect to make the manoeuvre without some kind of trouble. And he was right.

  He had almost reached the door when he caught a flicker of movement off to his left. Hands were reaching for ready guns, and Jacob saw danger closing in fast.

  Ben Retford was one of the first to clear leather. He had his gun up and out, the hammer back, before any of the others. He fired, but his bullet was wide, for he had drawn and fired simply by reflex as Jacob had moved. His bullet dug a hole in the adobe wall inches away from Jacob, who, in turn, tilted up his rifle and returned fire. Ben Retford was knocked sideways out of his saddle by the bullet. He hit the ground hard, his yell cut off abruptly as he hit. He twisted over on to his back, his mouth moving silently, body writhing jerkily, blood spurting from the raw wound in his chest.

  Jacob triggered off two more shots as he backed into the saloon. He was only sure of one hit, for his intention had been more to create confusion than to inflict more harm, but Retford’s men were so close-bunched that it was near impossible to miss.

  He didn’t wait to see any more.

  Through the door he turned and made his way across the empty saloon. The Mexican was behind the bar, a bland expression on his dark face. Jacob paused at the door that led to the rear of the building.

  ‘A long life, my friend,’ the Mexican said. ‘Go with God.’

  ‘For you the same,’ Jacob answered. ‘And thanks.’

  ‘Whatever I have done — it was well worth the effort.’

  Jacob went on through. The rear door was ajar and Jacob stepped outside. His horse raised its head as he approached. Jacob jammed his rifle into the saddle-boot, freed the reins and swung up into the saddle. He drew the horse’s head around and gigged the animal forward.

  As Jacob drew level with the end of the saloon’s rear wall one of Kyle Retford’s men drove his horse into sight. He had a gun in his left hand and he fired the moment he saw Jacob. The bullet caught Jacob in the left side, almost knocking him out of the saddle. Gripping with his legs Jacob steadied his mount, his right hand going for his own handgun. As he pulled it clear he saw Retford’s man level his gun for another shot. Jacob dogged back his gun’s hammer, swung it to bear. The Retford man fired first. His bullet burned a bloody line across Jacob’s face. Jacob kicked his heels in, spurring his horse forward in a sudden lunge that put him alongside the Retford man. This time Jacob’s gun spoke as he thrust the muzzle into the other man’s side and tripped the trigger. Powder-smoke belched out and flame scorched the man’s shirt as the heavy bullet ripped into him, through his body, emerging at the other side in a spurt of blood and lacerated flesh.

  Yanking savagely on his horse’s reins Jacob sent the animal into a dead run, away from town, heading for the open country towards the north. Whichever way he went there was only flat country. To the north lay hills, mountains just beyond. If he could reach them he might have a chance. He was on a good horse, a strong runner and a stayer. Jacob knew those things as pure fact. This big chestnut he was riding was a horse a man could depend on. He had pulled Jacob out of trouble more than once while they had been over the border, and Jacob had a feeling he was going to have to do it again.

  He had been a damn fool to stay in Pueblo. What the hell had he been trying to prove? Jacob asked himself the question, but he couldn’t answer it. All he did know was that instead of being well away from Pueblo and the Retfords, he was too close for comfort and he had the whole damn bunch on his trail, coming up close. And he knew something else too — Kyle Retford wasn’t the sort to give up on a thing like this. No question about it, he was in trouble. He had to find himself a place to fight, and quick. He had a bullet in his side that was only just starting to hurt. He was bleeding too, and he needed time to tend to his wound before it put him down.

  The chestnut ate up the miles gradually, but the distant hills didn’t seem to get any closer to Jacob. A couple of times he glanced back over his shoulder. Retford’s bunch were there, maybe a half-mile back, but they were there all the same. He had the edge on them for the moment. Could he keep it? The chestnut was a good horse but it couldn’t run forever. Sooner or later it would tire and he would have to stand and fight. He knew that, accepted it, but he wanted a chance. Out here, on this flat open country he would stand little chance at all. If he could reach the protection of the hills to the north he could maybe find himself a place to fight from. The fact that he might lose out to them only crossed his mind fleetingly, then was gone. It just wasn’t in Jacob to even consider defeat. It was a stubbornness that was a Tyler family trait, an inborn thing that was as much a part of them as breathing and talking.

  Darkness spread itself across the empty land now. Shadows grew, then merged, covering the earth. The night brought a chill to the air as the heat of the day swiftly vanished. Jacob wrestled his thick sheepskin coat free from where it was tied behind his saddle as he rode. He kept riding while he pulled it on and buttoned it against the searching cold.

  The wound in his side was still hurting him. The bleeding had stopped for now, but Jacob knew it could start up again at any time. Every now and then he felt dizziness sweep over him. He didn’t know just how much blood he’d lost. All he did know was that it was more than was good for him.

  Time slipped by, the hours passed. The stars came out, and a pale moon silvered the land. And almost without noticing Jacob rode into the foothills of the range that promised him cover, maybe a place to hide.

  Realisation came to Jacob of his whereabouts and he snapped out of the half-sleep he was in, knowing that he would need his wits about him if he was going to come through what lay ahead. As he guided his horse up the rising slopes his mind began to work clearly again. He needed cover. He needed time. A place where he could rest up. A good place to fight from. Maybe he was hoping for too much all at once. But each of the things he wanted fed on the others.

  As he reached the higher slopes he dismounted and led his horse. The chestnut was beginning to tire a little. Jacob owed a lot to the animal and he wasn’t about to abuse its faithfulness. Besides which, being on his feet kept him alert. It was too easy to relax while he was in the saddle. On the ground he had to keep moving, and it was good for him.

  Close on midnight Jacob called a halt for himself. He was high up now. The rise and fall of the hills were all around him now, and he was pretty safe from any sudden attack. That much he knew, but he didn’t ease his vigil a slight. Retford’s bunch was still down there, and they were still coming, and he knew it.

  He found a narrow stream close by and led the chestnut to drink. Jacob took his rifle and canteen and found himself a handy rock to lean against. He was able to look back down the way he had come. Somewhere in the darkness below was Kyle Retford and his crew. Jacob took a drink from his canteen, wondering what they were doing down there. He didn’t wonder too long. He had things to do. He’d know about the Retfords soon enough. That was the time to start worrying about them.

  Moving of
f again Jacob headed up the rough hill slope. Beyond where he was now were tall mountain peaks, and he knew that if he carried on in the direction he was going he would eventually reach them. Mountains would offer him better protection. A man could lose himself for a lifetime in the vastness of a mountain range. One thing was against him though. He was a stranger to this part of the country while it was possible that Retford and his crew might know these hills and mountains like they knew their own backyard. It was, Jacob realised, a notion to think on.

  One way or the other, though, he was going into those mountains. The Retfords would follow him, that he also knew. Who would come out was on the other side of the coin. On that score Jacob didn’t even bother to make a bet.

  Chapter Three

  To the east the rising sun flooded the land with pale light, graying the shadows, then dispersing them completely. Faint mists clung to the sides of the high slopes where Jacob Tyler rode, and each breath left a frost in the air. He was into the mountains now, having kept on the move all night, stopping only once to tend to the bullet wound in his side. There had been little he’d been able to do. The bullet was still inside him, and Jacob knew that it should come out soon. But he couldn’t worry about that now. Kyle Retford wasn’t going to give him that much time.

  With the coming light Jacob got his first view of Retford’s bunch. They were a long way below him. Two, maybe three miles he judged. Maybe he’d been wrong, and they didn’t know these mountains. Then again, perhaps they were just being careful. He’d already killed two of them. They’d all remember that before they put their heads out too far.

  Jacob took a halt. He was hungry and cold and weak. From where he was he could watch the Retford bunch without being seen, for he had chosen a place where there was a stand of trees and a growth of thickets close by a high wall of rock that rose up into the clear, chill mountain air.

  After seeing to his horse Jacob made a small fire and put on coffee. He had some cold meat in his pack and he wolfed this down while he waited for the coffee to boil.

  He placed his rifle nearby, made sure his handgun was easily got at. When his coffee was ready he poured out a mug and stood drinking it, watching the slow progress of the eight riders far below him. They were coming, he thought, slow but very sure.

  He’d been five kinds of a fool. He knew it now, but it did nothing to ease his situation. Seth would have told him the same thing, for Seth had a calm manner that always made him think before he acted. Seth might have got himself into trouble, but he would have used his head to get himself out of further trouble. Brig, now, was more like Jacob. He had a pretty quick temper when it came to a showdown, but he was younger than Jacob, and Seth always took this into consideration over Brig’s doings. His thoughts made Jacob smile. The truth was, he supposed, that he wished he had Brig and Seth with him now. Between them they made a pretty good match against any odds.

  But he didn’t have them with him. He had nobody. He was alone, with eight men hunting him, eight men who wouldn’t stop unless they were dead or he was hanging from the nearest tree. It was a sobering thought and it snapped Jacob out of his daydreams.

  He drained his coffee and turned back to his fire for another mugful. He took one step and went to his knees as a sickening dizziness swept over him. For a while the world turned black. There was a roaring in his ears. He felt as weak as a baby. When he tried to get up he just toppled over on to his back and lay looking up through the trees to the sky beyond. He could feel himself growing cold, though there was a spreading heat on his left hand. He rolled his head and saw that his hand was almost in the small cook fire he’d made. He jerked the hand away, then made a concerted effort to stand up again. Once more he failed. Anger rose inside him at his own helplessness. He knew only that he had to get up. He had to get on to his horse and move on. Good as it was, this was no place to make a stand. He needed a better place to make his fight from.

  Somehow he twisted over on to his left side and sudden pain exploded inside him. Jacob heard himself gasp — and it was the last sound he heard as the world went black on him and a silence shut out every other sound around him.

  It was the odour of frying bacon that brought him fully awake. For some time he had lain in that half-world of semi-wakefulness that comes after long, deep sleep and he had wondered where he was.

  He was in bed, that much he knew. He was warm and his wound didn’t hurt any longer. There was a faint ache, but no more pain. He felt as if he had slept for some long hours. When he opened his eyes he saw that the room he was in was lit by a lamp and that there were dark shadows in the corners of the ceiling, and from that he judged that it was night. But which night? The night of the day he had collapsed on? Or was it the next day? Or the next? Jacob quit figuring after a minute. His questions could easily be answered when the time came.

  It was plain that wherever he was it was somewhere away from the Retford bunch. If he’d been in their hands he wouldn’t be receiving this kind of treatment. Oh, they’d keep him alive so they could hang him, but his surroundings wouldn’t be of this kind. So who was he indebted to?

  Jacob lay for a while, just savouring the smell of the bacon. He was still weak. He could tell that without moving. But he was hungry, and that bacon was doing him no good while he lay where he was.

  He sat up slowly, easing himself gently from his prone position. He’d realised that his side was bandaged and he didn’t want to make any move that might start his wound bleeding again.

  Upright he was able to take notice of his surroundings. He was in a small, one-room cabin, with a blazing log-fire throwing heat out from the stone fireplace. There was furniture, handmade, but well-finished. The cabin floor was wood, and Jacob saw that someone had taken great care to shape and notch each plank so that the floor was level and smooth. It was, he saw, the same with the rest of the cabin. It had been built with care and pride. There were even glass panes in the two windows. That was something not very often seen in remote places. This place had been built to last, by someone who wanted a place he could call his own.

  Jacob was fully absorbed by his surroundings. So much so that he didn’t see the figure move out of the shadows in the cabin’s far corner. Only when the lamplight caught the figure did he notice. He turned his head, and for a moment he was unsure of what he saw, then he was certain.

  A girl in a simple blue dress. She was not of more than average height, not more than twenty-three years old. After that, though, the obvious stopped, for she was, to Jacob’s eyes, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her hair was long and jet-black. So black it seemed impossible, and it shone with a softness that seemed unreal. She had big, bright eyes, brown and deep that told of laughter and lightness. Her skin was smooth and gently touched by the sun. Her mouth was a soft and gentle curve. When she saw he was awake she moved towards him. Jacob could see she was slim, but with a woman’s fullness to her body the way the dress fit across her breasts and the curve of her hips.

  She came to the side of the bed and smiled at him. She said, ‘How are you feeling now, Mr Tyler?’

  ‘Rested some and mean hungry,’ he said, then added, ‘How long I been here?’

  ‘This is your second night,’ she told him. ‘But don’t fret none. Kyle Retford won’t find you here.’

  ‘You seen a vision that give you all this information about me?’

  ‘No. You were pretty feverish when I got you back here. While I took that bullet out of your side you did a lot of talking. There was a lot I didn’t get, but I put enough together to know what happened to you. An envelope in your shirt pocket told me your name.’

  Jacob smiled. ‘There you have the better of me.’

  ‘I’m Nancy Boland,’ she said.

  ‘Nancy Boland, I am in your debt.’

  ‘You were in trouble. You needed help.’ She paused. ‘I’d have done the same for anyone, though more so for someone having trouble with the Retfords.’

  The tone of her voice surprised Jacob.
There was a hardness to it that didn’t go with her quick smile, or the soft brown eyes.

  ‘You had dealing with them?’ he asked.

  ‘More than enough. When Ma died I was sixteen. Pa and me came to this country from Texas. We took us a little land near Pueblo, set up a cattle outfit. Not much, but Pa just wanted a chance to make a go of it. We had a few head of cattle and a small cabin. Pa hired a couple of hands. Pa’s father even settled down to help us. He was a tough old man was Grandpa. Been in the border country for a long time. We thought we were all right, coming along pretty good the first couple of years. Pa made some money, built up the herd, hired more men. Then the Retfords decided we were getting too big. They started hitting us. Just little things at first, then worse. Our hands were beaten up, cattle shot, waterholes poisoned. Pa tried talking to Kyle Retford. It was no use. He tried to avoid trouble, though. Never fought back, just carried on. It went on like this for two years until the Retfords saw we weren’t to be scared off. So they just up and burned us out. One day they rode in and burned the place to the ground. They shot two of our hands. Killed them in cold blood. They shot Grandpa too. Put a bullet in his leg that left him with a limp.

  ‘They gave us our horses and told us to ride out. There was nothing else we could do. Me and Pa and Grandpa, we came here. This cabin was a place Grandpa had used on and off for years. If you don’t know where it is you could never find it. We just sort of settled in and stayed. Once Grandpa was better we figured we might as well stay. There’s plenty of game around, good water. Three days down the other side of the mountains there’s a small town. We did fur-trapping and the like.’

  Jacob watched her for a moment, seeing the frown on her face as she relived dark moments of her young life.