Kilkenny 03 - Kilkenny (v5.0)

by Louis L'Amour

  Taking Havalik’s hat, he spun it high in the air. Then, slip-shooting with Havalik’s guns, he emptied them into the spinning hat. Then he tossed the guns into the grass at the gunman’s feet.

  Mumbling, the Forty riders started for their horses, minus guns, ammunition and gunbelts. Then as they rode away the men from the valley walked into the trees toward their horses, taking with them all the guns but the two returned to Havalik.

  In the pass, Havalik drew rein. “We’re not goin’ back. Dave, you take Joe and get to Horsehead. Get guns and come running. We’re not through here.”

  Leal Macy stepped into the saddle and then turned. There was resolution in his jaw. “This has gone far enough! We’re going into town and I’m going to arrest Tetlow. I’m going to deputize the lot of you right now!”

  Dolan glanced at Kilkenny. “What do you say, Lance? This might be the time.”

  Kilkenny hesitated, weighing their chances. “All right. Brigo can stay here with Doc Blaine, Early and a couple of men, just in case. The rest of us will go.”

  At the ranch they wasted no time. Leal Macy and Kilkenny would head the group for town, taking with them Dolan, Cain Brockman, Shorty and Taggart. It was a good, hard-fighting crowd.

  Kilkenny led off toward town, but he had not gone far when they intercepted the trail of the Havalik men. “Only two men went to town! Havalik and the rest have stayed in the hills!”

  Macy’s face was a study in uncertainty. “Do we stay or go?”

  “We’ll go on,” Kilkenny said. “We’ll trust to Brigo.”

  “My guess is that those two have gone after guns. If we get along fast we can take them along with Tetlow.”

  Day was breaking when the party rode into town. They tried no subterfuge, but rode right into the street. The only horse they saw wore the 4T brand. The center was at the Diamond Palace.

  “Dolan, you and Brockman go down the street and pick up anybody that’s loose. Taggart, you and Shorty cover the street.”

  Kilkenny turned toward the Palace with Macy. “You think those two beat us here?” Macy asked.

  “Doubt it. I know the trails better and we pushed our horses.”

  Only one Forty hand was in the Palace. He was eating, but when he saw who had come in he dropped his fork. Two guns covered him and he attempted no more. In a matter of minutes he was hog-tied.

  “Where’s Jared Tetlow?” Macy demanded of the bartender.

  “Don’t know, but if I was you I’d dust out of here.”

  “I’m sheriff, in case you’ve forgotten. You make a move from behind that bar or help in any way and I’ll arrest you for complicity.”

  Leaving their captive with the men on the steps, Macy started for the Pinenut. A shot sounded down the street and Kilkenny ducked across the street and ran into an alleyway between Bob Early’s office and the harness shop. Running to the back of the Westwater Hotel, he opened the door and stepped quickly inside.

  Jared Tetlow stood in the front door staring into the street. Beside him was a big man with hair the color of corn.

  “You’re under arrest, Tetlow! You’ll stand trial for murder and theft!”

  The old man stiffened, then turned slowly. His face was white and the bones stood out against the skin. “You? Arrestin’ me?”

  “I’m a sworn deputy of Leal Macy, county sheriff. Both of you unbuckle your guns.”

  The big young man was wide-shouldered and strong. He wanted to take a chance, but there was no chance. Carefully he let go his gun belt and, after an instant’s hesitation, Tetlow did likewise.

  Gathering up the guns, Kilkenny led his prisoners into the street. Macy stood in front of the stage station with a Winchester, looking across the bridge into west town.

  “Brockman had trouble,” Macy explained. “A man named Harper. He was dead before he hit the floor.”

  When Tetlow and the light-haired man who proved to be Swede Carlson were jailed, the posse turned to and made a clean sweep of the town. They rounded up but six scattered riders from the Forty. There was no sign of the two men Havalik had sent for guns.

  Leal Macy worked swiftly. He sent three wires by the noon stage to be telegraphed from the nearest station informing the governor of what had happened and the steps that had been taken.

  He was behind his desk and Kilkenny was loafing in the office when Ben Tetlow came in. “I understand you’ve arrested my father?”

  “That’s correct. He’ll be held for trial.”

  “Is there any charge against me?”

  “Not so far.”

  “Do I get to see my father?”

  “No reason why not.”

  Ben Tetlow unbuckled his guns. He glanced at Kilkenny. “What’s your part in this?”

  “Deputy.”

  “A killer!”

  “Might call me that. I never hunted trouble.”

  “I suppose,” Ben said bitterly, “you’ll kill my father now?”

  “Don’t build trouble where there is none,” Lance replied quietly. “Your father tried to ride us down. He’ll get what’s coming to him…legally.”

  There was a sincerity about the tall rider that convinced him. Without replying he went down the hall.

  Jared Tetlow appeared to have aged, but his eyes were hard as marbles. “Son! Ride for Havalik! I want out of here!”

  “You mean to have him take you out? By force?”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Tetlow said irritably. “How else would he get me out?”

  “You’re to stand trial.”

  “Me?” The old man’s face was bitter. “Jared Tetlow tried like any common criminal? I never figured I’d hear a son of mine say a thing like that! You git out of here and git Havalik!”

  “I’m staying out of it, Dad. I’m staying out because when this is over you’ll need money and a place to come to. I’ll tell Havalik you’re here, but I’ll have no part in breaking the law.”

  There was something approaching hate in the eyes of Jared Tetlow as he watched his son walk away. Then he turned angrily and walked to the bunk.

  Ben picked up his guns. “Any law against moving my cows?”

  “Not at all,” Macy said, “but your herds will have to be cut to get out the stock belonging to other ranchers.”

  Ben nodded seriously. “Fair enough. I’ll cut all I can with the few hands I’ve got. You can cut them again whenever you like.”

  “There’s a place west of Comb Wash called Texas Flat. You could hold your cattle there with the ridge as east fence.” Kilkenny gave him directions for moving the herd.

  “Thanks.” Ben felt uncomfortable with these men. He started to leave, then hesitated in the door. “That Carpenter affair,” he said, “I had nothing to do with any of that.”

  “We know it.” Macy looked up from his desk. “We’ve no trouble with you, Ben.”

  “That Carlson you have in there,” Ben said. “I don’t think he was in this.”

  “We’ll see,” Macy promised. “If he had no part in it we’ll turn him loose.”

  SUDDENLY AS IT had begun the trouble was over. Business in Horsehead resumed, and the arriving and departing stages began to bring in drummers and other passengers. An official arrived from the governor’s office to hear the evidence and make report to the governor himself. If was announced that a special court would be convened to sit on the case.

  Jared Tetlow remained in jail. Neither Dee Havalik nor Andy Tetlow put in an appearance. The party from the valley returned to town and Nita Riordan retained Bob Early to represent her and Mrs. Carpenter. Smoke rose lazily from the chimneys of the town and the days started brightly from frosty mornings. The KR range was grazed by its own cows. The big herd had been split and was fattening on range west and south of town.

  A lawyer named Jaeger arrived from El Paso to defend Jared Tetlow after it had been recommended that he be held for trial on a dozen charges including the murder of Jack Harrow. Ben Tetlow rarely came to town. Only at the end of the month did he come to
see Kilkenny. He found him at the Westwater, dining with Nita.

  “You said something about buying cows?”

  “That’s right. Will you sit down?”

  Hesitantly Ben reached for the chair. “How many could you use? We need cash.”

  “Depends on the price. I’ll buy as many as I can afford.”

  “I’ll make the price right.” Ben explained, “We’d have to drive at least a hundred and fifty miles to sell. We’d lose beef and we haven’t the time.”

  They talked, straightening out the details of the bargain. Kilkenny contracted to buy one thousand head of the 4T cattle to be delivered on his range in the Valley of Whispering Wind. Ben’s stiffness left him slowly. He found nothing but friendliness in either of them.

  When he was gone, Lance looked across the table at Nita. “Well, honey, we’re back in business.”

  “Will you go with him on the drive?”

  “Sure. I’ll take Cain and Shorty along and once the cattle are in the valley they’ll make no trouble.” He put his hand on her arm. “I’ll leave them there and come back for you.”

  There was a shadow of worry in her eyes. “You’re still thinking about Havalik?”

  “I guess so. Brigo saw tracks of a dozen riders in Dry Wash two days ago. Ben hasn’t said anything but I know he’s lost cattle.”

  “Would they rustle from him?”

  “They wouldn’t consider it rustling. Andy’s with them, and he owns part of the cattle. They still consider themselves part of the Forty, anyway.”

  “Do you believe Havalik will leave once Tetlow is sentenced?”

  “No.” Kilkenny knew he must reply honestly. “No, I don’t. Havalik will never leave until he faces me. Dee Havalik intends to kill me.”

  Chapter 10

  BEN TETLOW WAS waiting on the edge of Texas Flat when Lance Kilkenny rode the buckskin toward the herd. He looked tired, and his face was shadowed with worry.

  “We cut the herd for you,” he said. “It’s mostly young stuff.”

  Kilkenny studied the cattle with care. The herd was not so tightly bunched that he could not make a fair estimate of what he was getting. Obviously, Ben had made no attempt to saddle him with a lot of culls. These were good stock.

  “They look all right to me,” he said. “I’ll take your word for the number.”

  Tetlow turned to instruct his riders, and Brigo rode up to Kilkenny. “A full thousand, señor. Perhaps even more.”

  “Thanks. See you in a couple of days.”

  Ben rose in his stirrups and yelled and the riders moved in on the herd. Slowly it began to move. As always, Kilkenny felt a lift at the sight of a great herd in motion. And soon these would be his cattle, on his range. He would, for the first time, be a man of property. He was through running. Here he would make his stand.

  “This a good place you’ve got?” Ben asked as he joined him at the point.

  “Best range in the country. I’ll have to cut hay for winter feeding, but I’ve good meadows and the range I have will carry more stock than most Western range. There are some valleys branching off that can be fed off, too.”

  They rode in silence for several miles. “What will happen to Dad?” Ben asked suddenly.

  “I can’t guess. Feeling is changing in the cattle country. They want law and order now, and they’ll go a long way to have it. Lots of nesters coming into the country and they’ll welcome a chance to see the issue decided in the courts.”

  “This change you speak of. Won’t that make a difference to men like you and Havalik?”

  “We’re as outmoded as the buffalo. That’s why I’m buying cattle. I’m going to work my stock and stay out of trouble.”

  Kilkenny’s eyes went to the narrowing gap between Texas Canyon and North Fork. Cain Brockman, as if sensing his thought, suddenly rode past them, cutting over toward Texas and Shorty rode into North Fork. Both searched the rocks and brush with drawn guns.

  “Nothing stays the same,” Kilkenny said. “A man has to go with the times. No man can put a rope on the past and hope to snub it down. The best thing is to learn to ride the new trails.”

  He glanced at Ben. “You’ve learned.”

  Ben shrugged. “Dad says I take after my mother.”

  “Maybe. You were the first in your generation. You’ll have kids and most of them will go the way you do.”

  From Texas Flat the trail mounted to Long Point and led over the route taken by Kilkenny on previous occasions. By nightfall they would be at Duck Lake. From there a trail led east into the mountains and thence to the valley. Now that there was no pursuit and no necessity for keeping the valley a secret, they need no longer use the devious routes.

  By high noon the drive was passing through the Notch. On the far side they paused for lunch and Cain Brockman rode up to Kilkenny and swung from the saddle. His heavy jaws were unshaven and he looked tough and rugged as always. He moved over to Kilkenny, his huge bulk moving with the ease of a big cat. He dropped on his haunches.

  He jerked his head toward the west. “They’ve spotted us. Fresh tracks over there.”

  “How many?”

  “Five in that bunch. Shorty saw somebody over east, too.”

  Kilkenny finished his plate and got to his feet. He walked over to where Ben Tetlow sat with his men. “I don’t expect any of you to do anything but handle cattle. Havalik is out in the hills with a bunch of riders. You leave it to the three of us.”

  His eyes swept the group. These men had all been Forty riders, had worked beside those men in the hills. On the other hand, these were the best of the lot, cowhands rather than gunmen. And the drive and day to day work had enabled them to see the kind of man Kilkenny was.

  A sour-faced man looked up from his beef and beans.

  “Three against twenty-five or thirty?”

  Swede Carlson shifted his weight. “I never did cotton to Havalik, and this fight’s over. So if you need help, count on me.”

  “Thanks.”

  The sour-faced man spat. “I’ll herd cattle.”

  Ben Tetlow had sat silent. Now he spoke up. “A man can get mighty saddle-sore trying to straddle a fence. I’ve made my play and I’m backing it. So I say this. If there’s anybody here who figures to help Havalik or Andy, for that matter, he can ride out now. When trouble starts those who want can herd cattle. If any of you want to, you can lend a hand to Kilkenny. It’s every man to his own conscience. I’ll herd cattle. I couldn’t draw a gun against my brother. One more thing. Anybody who decides to help Kilkenny, don’t expect anything from Andy. When he starts shooting he ain’t going to mind where his shots go. He’s my brother, but I want no man to die because of that.”

  He walked away from the fire and Cain Brockman went to his bedroll and got out his extra gun. Few men could equal him with a pair of sixguns. Kilkenny had beaten him, but nobody else ever had.

  Horns bobbing, the herd moved steadily north. Dust arose and filled the air. The lowing cattle and occasional shrill yells of the cowhands were the only other sounds. Kilkenny rode ahead, scouting the trail.

  There was a tenseness in the air, an expectation. Cain rode lazily, but under his battered brim his eyes were ceaselessly moving.

  If Havalik planned to hit the herd he would not do it until it was in the valley. If he had not learned the circumstances of Ben Tetlow’s deal he would be puzzled by the personnel of the riders. Yet there was no reason why he should hold off any attack on Kilkenny or his own riders.

  Until the cattle reached the valley it was a Tetlow herd. Once there it belonged to Kilkenny and was fair game.

  As the day drew on, Kilkenny grew increasingly restless and irritable. He rode far ahead of the herd, anxious to meet the issue and face it out. His eyes were never still and his nerves were on a hair trigger.

  For the first time there was much at stake besides his own life, for now he had definitely committed himself and had bound, both in his own mind and in words, his future to that of Nita. Yet knowing the
danger could not be avoided he wanted it to be now, quickly, and then over and done.

  Cain Brockman, who knew his friend, watched him warily. When action came it would be explosive. Lance Kilkenny was a man who could be pushed only so far and Brockman could see that a devil was riding him.

  Suddenly Kilkenny smelled dust in the air. He swung wide and saw the tracks of four riders where they had cut across the trail the herd was taking. He wheeled his buckskin and rode down the trail after them.

  They were standing in a tight group not sixty yards off the trail, concealed from it by a rocky projection. As the buckskin walked in sand they did not hear his approach.

  Kilkenny drew up, his right hand resting on his thigh. “Huntin’ trouble or just riding?”

  They jerked around, their faces written large with surprise. All four were tough men. “What’s it to you?” The speaker was a big, wide-faced man.

  Kilkenny’s eyes had gone flat and hard. For three long breaths he did not reply. Nor did he think. He had it in him, and he felt something rising strong and hot inside him. He walked his horse nearer.

  “You’ve been ridin’ with Forty. This herd will be Forty until it reaches my ranch, but I won’t have any saddle bums riding my flanks. If you think this is bluff, suppose you grab iron.”

  Silence hung heavy in the small canyon. The man who had spoken wanted to act, but he knew he looked into the eyes of death.

  Fury mounted within Kilkenny. He stepped his horse nearer and, sensing his master’s urgency, the buckskin began to tremble. “Come on, damn you! If you want trouble, start it! Otherwise start ridin’ and don’t stop until you’re out of the country!”

  The man with the wide face possessed his own fighting pride. Something exploded within him. “I’ll be damned if I’ll run! I’ll—” He grabbed at his gun butt and Kilkenny slammed home the spurs.

  The buckskin leaped like a startled rabbit and hit the other man’s horse a glancing blow. Caught off balance, the horse staggered, then fell. And then Kilkenny was in the circle of horsemen, not shooting, but slashing with his gun barrel.

  One man caught a blow across the skull and crumpled from his saddle. Another caught the tip of a raking blow that laid his cheek open. Wheeling his horse, he headed south at a dead run, blood steaming from his ripped face.