the Rider Of Lost Creek (1976)

by L'amour, Louis - Kilkenny 02

  The buckskin was suddenly restive, tossing his head and snorting.

  What he did then was sheer impulse. He whipped his horse around suddenly and took it in two quick jumps for the shelter of the wash.

  As the buckskin gathered himself for the second jump, Kilkenny felt the whip of a bullet past his face! Then another and yet another, but the buckskin was running all out now and Kilkenny was weaving among the scattered oaks and cedars.

  Buck knew what bullets were, and when he hit the edge of the wash he slid to the bottom, legs braced, and in the bottom, he wheeled and raced down the wash at top speed.

  Right before them the bend took a turn, and if Buck could make that bend they might out-flank the killer.

  Lance went around the bend at a dead run, drew up sharply and hit the ground, Winchester in hand, running all out. Flattening himself behind a hummock of sand and sagebrush, he peered through. He moved, trying to see better and a bullet kicked sand into his eyes. He slid back into the wash.

  "Spotted me, damn him!"

  He sprang to the saddle and circled farther, then again tried the bank. Now he could see the nest of rock from which the killer had first fired.

  Nobody was in sight. Then he caught a flicker of movement higher on the hill.

  The killer was stalking him!

  Crouching low, Lance watched a gap in the rocks.

  When he caught a shadow there, only a blob of darkness from where he huddled, he fired.

  It was only a snap shot, quick, offhand, and it clipped the boulder, ricocheting off into the fading light, whining wickedly.

  Then it began, a deadly game of chess, with each man holding a rifle, each maneuvering for a killing shot. Twice Kilkenny almost nailed him, and once a shot clipped a leaf within an inch of his skull.

  An hour passed, and Lance had seen nothing. He kept turning, listening, watching the buckskin. Then he began the deadly game of stalking once again, working higher and higher up in the rocks.

  Then he found it. A place where a man had knelt to fire, on the ground was a cartridge shell from a, Winchester '73.

  He picked it up. "Now that might help ... He mused. "Not too many of them around. Most of the Rangers have them, and I've got one. Rusty still uses that old Sharps.

  "But say! Tana had one, and if I'm not mistaken, Bonham was packing one."

  Three times now the killer had fired at him, if all three shots had been fired by the same man. Bonham was in the vicinity, but what reason could he have?

  Actually, it might be one of many people, all within the general proximity of the places where the firing was done.

  Kilkenny was no nearer discovering the killer now that in the beginning, although he had shells from the killer's six-gun as well as his rifle. Yet he had no evidence aside from a healthy hunch that all the shooting had been done by the same man.

  Did the mysterious boss at Apple Canyon have anything to do with it. He had not wanted Kilkenny killed then, so why now?

  Bert Polti could be ruled out Who else had reason to want him dead?

  There seemed to be no real reason behind any of the odd killings that had taken place. Some strange influence seemed to be at work, something cruel and evil, something untypical of the range country where men settled their disputes face to face.

  Kilkenny avoided trails and worked his way crosscountry, varying his route constantly until he reached Botalla. The important thing now was to get Steele, Lord and Davis together to settle their differences. Knowing all three, he was sure they could reach an agreement.

  The two big cattlemen were range-hungry, and Davis was a stubborn man, accustomed to making his own way, fighting his own battles, and asking favors from no man. Each was a nigged man, accustomed to driving ahead. But now they must learn that much was also to be gained through cooperation and mutual assistance.

  Botalla lay quiet under a late sun when the buckskin walked down the street. There were the usual loafers sitting around, the usual rigs along the street, people buying supplies or engaged in other business in the town and the locality. Among them were several punchers from the Lord and Steele outfits.

  Kilkenny drew up alongside two of them. A short cowboy in bat-whig chaps and a battered gray hat looked at him from his seat on the boardwalk, rolled his quid in his jaws and spat.

  "How's things"..."... He asked, warily.

  "So, so ... Kilkenny shoved his hat back on his head and wiped the sweat from his brow. "You're Shorty Lewis, aren't you?"

  The short puncher looked surprised. "Sure am.

  How'd you know me?"

  "Saw you one time in Austin. Ridin' a white-legged roan."

  "Til be damned! You sure got a memory.

  Indians stole that boss off me three years back. You sure saw me, all right."

  "Got to have a memory, living like I do. A man might forget the wrong face."... He stepped down from the saddle. "You ride for Steele, Shorty?"

  "Six years. Before that I was up in the Nation."

  "Did you know Des King?"

  Lewis got up slowly. "What's on your mind, Kilkenny? Des was half-brother to Lord, but he was my friend. We rode together up in the Nation."

  "Lewis, I've been doing some nosing around, and I've got a hunch that the same man killed Des that killed Carter and Wilkins and a few others around here."

  "But King was killed years ago ... Shorty protested. "Long before this fight got started."

  "Right. I think somebody is riding this range with some other reason for killing men. There's a man loose . . . man or woman . . . who is utterly coldblooded and vicious. He may have some reason we don't know, but I think he's killing for the love of killing. Trouble is, he'd liable to blow the lid off this cauldron and have a lot of good men on both sides shooting each other."

  "What kind of a man would that be? Maybe you've got something there, for why would a man shoot into Des after he was down and helpless? Somebody who stood right over him? I was one of the ones who found the body, and Des was alive and struggling when those last shots were fired into him."

  Shorty Lewis looked thoughtful.

  "The way he'd moved around in the dirt made us think he'd been paralyzed by the first shot, and that then the killer had walked up and deliberately gutshot him whilst looking right straight at him."

  "There was an Indian killed before that, and a prospector, too. Did you know them"..."... Asked Kilkenny.

  "Sure . . . Everybody knew them. Old Yellow Hoss was a Comanche. He done a favor for Lord some time back and the old man kept him around ... sort of on a pension-like. He was a good old boy, no harm in him, although in his day he'd been a heap big warrior. Well, one day we found him out on the range, shot in the back.

  "No reason for it we could see, and the same with that old prospector ... I forget his name, now. The prospector's stuff had been gone over but nothin" missin' but a bone-handled scalpin' knife he used to pack around. He had no enemies anybody could think of, and nothin' worth stealin'. His rifle wasn't taken, and his boss an' burros were left adrift."

  "Where were they killed"..."... Asked Lance.

  "Funny thing there. All were killed betwixt Apple Canyon and Lost Creek Valley.

  All but one. Des was killed on Lord range not far from Lost Creek."

  "Shorty? How about you askin" Webb to come in tomorrow for a peace talk? I'll have Lord and Davis there."

  Shorty Lewis agreed.

  After telling some of the Lord hands to ask Webb to come in, Kilkenny walked his horse down to the general store. Old Joe Frame was selling a bill of goods to Mort Davis's son. Through him, Lance sent word to Mort.

  Rusty Gates was lounging on the boardwalk in front of the Trail House.

  I

  "If you swing a loop over the three of them it'll go a long way in the direction of makin' peace in the Live Oak. At least this piece of it."

  "Yes ... Kilkenny said, "after we find who is doing all the killing, and round up that outfit at Apple Canyon."

  Gates nodd
ed. He touched his tongue to the edge of the cigarette paper and deftly rolled his smoke.

  "May not be so hard. You've been makin' friends, partner. Lots of the local people have been talking to me.

  Frame, Winston, Doc Clyde, torn Hollins, and others. They all want peace, and they want some law in Botalla. They intend to show up at your peace conference, and they say if you need a posse, they'll be ready."

  "That's good news, the best news. They should carry some weight with both Lord and Steele."

  "Think they'll try to break up your peace meeting?"

  "They might, at that, but I've been thinking and I've got a little plan "still Morning sunlight bathed the dusty street when the riders came in from the Steele ranch. Webb was in the lead, riding with Tana, Jim Weston and two Steele riders. One of them was Shorty Lewis.

  Rusty and Kilkenny were standing in front of the Trail House when they rode in. "She's sure pretty ... Rusty said, staring at Tana.

  "Prettier'n a button."

  "Why not marry the gal"..."... said Lance. "Old Webb needs a bright, cow-wise son-in-law, and Tana's quite a girl. She's a mite spoiled, but a good steady hand on the bridle and she'd hold her gait."

  "Marry her"..."... Rusty shook his head. "You must be out of your mind. She wouldn't even look at the likes of me. Anyway, I thought you were firing to put your brand on her."

  "Not me ... said Lance. "Tana's all right, but a man with my reputation had better stay clear of women. Marriage isn't for me, Rusty, although there's nothing I'd like better than a place of my own and the right woman. But sooner or later I'll be too slow on the draw and she'd be a widow.

  "No, I've been riding alone for a long time now, and Til not break any woman's heart by getting myself killed. Right now there's nobody.

  I'm a man alone."

  Lance paused. "If I was to change, it wouldn't be Tana. I like to tease her a little, because she's had it too easy with men and everything else, but that's all.

  If I ever find a woman to tie to, she'll have to be one with staying quality, the kind who can ride where I go, live as I live, and stay right with me through it all.

  "It would be no life for a woman, Rusty. There's loneliness and change and moving all the time, roosting no place, and always the chance of a shot in the back by somebody hunting a reputation, or some brother or friend of a1 man who took cards in the game and drew too slow at the finish."

  Webb Steele had rounded his horse to the hitching rail and swung down. Kilkenny looked at him with amused appreciation. Webb rode like a king, dismounted like one, and walked into the Trail House as one who commands, whose rights have never been questioned.

  There were many such, and they had not come to it at once, for men who walked that way had won the right to do so. They knew what they could do and they did it A few minutes later, Chet Lord came in with Steve. Then the door opened and Mort Davis stood there. He stared bleakly at Steele and Lord, then crossed to the fireplace and stood with his back to it, his thumbs hooked in his belt, prepared for whatever might come.

  Kilkenny sat down at the head of the table.

  "Guess we should call this meeting to order, gentlemen ... He said, quietly. "The way I hear it Lord and Steele are disputing about who fences hi Lost Creek, and Mort here is holding Lost Creek."

  "He's holdin" it ... Steele said, "but he's got no right to it"

  "Easy now ... Davis said imperturbable. "How'd you get your range, Steele? You just rode in an' squatted. Well, that's what I done. I'd been figurin' on settlin' Lost Creek for fifteen years. I come west with Jack Halloran's wagon train and saw Lost Creek then."

  "Huh"..."... Webb Steele turned sharply around. "You rode with Halloran? Why, Tana's mother was Jack Halloran's sister!"

  Davis stared at him. "You're not foolin'? You all from Jackson County?"

  "We sure are! Why, you old coot! Why didn't you tell me you was that Davis? Jack used to tell us how you an' him"

  Webb stopped suddenly, looking embarrassed.

  "Go right ahead, Steele ... Kilkenny said, smiling.

  "I always knew if I could get you two together you'd be friends. Same thing with Lord here. You're all good men. Each one of you has a good outfit and you can build it into something better.

  "You, Steele, are importing some fine stock. So is Lord. Mort doesn't have the money for that but he does have Lost Creek and he's got a few head of cattle and the start of a herd. I don't see why Lost Creek should be fenced. Fence out the upper Live Oak country if you like, but you three can get along and work well together.

  "Somebody has moved into Apple Canyon and organized a bunch of rustlers. They've got to be cleared out, lock, stock an' barrel. I'm taking on that job myself."

  "We need some law here ... Steele declared. "How about you becoming marshal?"

  "No ... Kilkenny looked around at their faces.

  "Lee Hall dropped by my camp the other night, and deputized me, so I'm already an officer of the State of Texas.

  "Before I ride out of this country I've got two things to do. I'm going to clean up Apple Canyon and I'm going to get the man who has been doing those killings."

  His eyes touched Chet Lord's and the big rancher's face was ashen.

  Steve Lord spoke suddenly. "You make that sound as if you believed there's no connection between those shootings and the cattle war."

  "There may be no connection. That remains to be discovered. But I think the person who killed WJ-LKINS and Carter is the same person who killed Des King and the others. I think we have an ugly, vicious murderer loose on the range, and I intend to find him.

  "And when I find him ... Lance added quietly;

  "hell hang!"

  Chapter XV

  Chet Lord slumped in Ms chair, looking old and tired.

  Tana Steele had an odd look in her eyes, her cheeks pale and drawn.

  "I think ... Kilkenny said, "that Des King knew who the killer was. He was killed partly to keep him from exposing the killer but in part because the killer hated him."

  "If he knew who the killer was ... Steve protested, "why didn't he tell anyone?"

  Kilkenny looked up at Steve, smiling slightly. "Maybe he did ... He said slowly.

  "Maybe he actually did."

  "What do you mean by that"..."... Webb Steele demanded.

  "If he told anybody, I never heard of it!"

  Tana's face was tense, and Chet Lord closed his eyes tiredly, and said nothing. Steve glanced at his father, his own face stiff and hard.

  "Des ... Kilkenny said slowly, "had him a little hangout in a box canyon west of Apple Canyon, and he kept a diary, an account of his search for die killer. He had an idea there might be an effort to kill him, so he dropped a line to tell Lee Hall, and Lee told me. Tomorrow I'm going to that cabin in the canyon and get that diary, if Lee hasn't already got it Then we'll have the whole story."

  "I think"... Tana got up abruptly, but whatever she was about to say was lost hi a burst of gunfire, a wild yell from the street and then a roll of heavy firing.

  Kilkenny left his chair with a lunge and kicked the door open. There was a burst of firing just as he emerged and started down the steps. His foot caught on a broken step and he fell headlong, his head striking a rock lying at the foot of the steps.

  Rusty and the others rushed after him and were just in time to see two big men running for their horses, while rifles and pistols began to bark from all over town.

  One of the big men threw up his pistol and blazed away at the group on the porch. Rusty had just the time to grab Tana and thrust her to the floor, as bullets spattered the hotel wall.

  Kilkenny, his head throbbing from the fall, crawled blindly to his feet with the instinctive drive of the fighting man to continue the battle.

  There was a pound of charging hoofs, then horses charged by him. One caught him a glancing blow with its shoulder and he was again knocked flat. Another rattle of gunfire, and it was over.

  Kilkenny got to his feet, wiping the dust from his eye
s. There was a trickle of blood from a slight cut where his head had hit the rock.

  "What was it? What happened?"

  Old Joe Frame came running along the street from the general store carrying an old Sharps buffalo gun.

  "The Brockmans! That's who it was! Come to bust up your meetin' and wipe you out! Jim Weston, Shorty and the other Steele rider tried to stop "em."

  Webb Steele came down the steps, gun hi hand, eyes hot with anger. "Damn* near killed Tana! Boy ... He grabbed Rusty by the shoulder, "you've got a head on you! Saved her life! You can ride for me any time! Anytime at all!"

  "Western's hurt bad ... Joe Frame said, "and Lewis is hurt. The other boy O'Connor, his name is, he's shot up. By now he may be gone.

  O'Connor never had a chance. He dropped his hand for his gun and Cain Brockman drilled him dead center. The boy was still alive... I don't know how he did it.

  "Abel took Lewis and they both lowered guns on Jim Weston. It was short and bloody, but I don't think either one got a scratch."

  "This time they've gone too far ... Steele shouted angrily. "We'll go out there to Apple Canyon and burn 'em out!"

  Tana Steele, white-faced and shocked, got up shakily, helped by Rusty. "You saved my life ... She pointed at the wall behind her, where now there was a spattered line of bullet holes. "I would have been killed!"

  Kilkenny saw blood on Rusty's shirt.

  "You'd better take him inside, Tana. He's been shot."

  "Oh ... Tana gasped. "You're hurt!"

  "It ain't nothin"! Shucks, I"... He slumped against the wall.

  Helped by Steele and Frame, Tana got Rusty Gates inside, and stretched him out on a sofa.

  Kilkenny watched them go, then turned, as behind him he heard a board creak.

  It was Bert Polti. "All right, Mr. Lance Kilkenny, here's where you cash in your chips!"

  Fold had a gun in his hand, and the gun flamed as Kilkenny turned. Lance felt the hot breath of the bullet, and then he fired.

  Polti staggered, but caught himself. His head thrust forward sharply and his teeth bared in a kind of ugly snarl. He wanted desperately to get off another shot but his gun wouldn't come up.