He stormed down the boardwalk as his men came out of cottages on either side of the street. He paid them no heed and turned to enter the saloon. As soon as he shoved inside the batwings, the lawman waved him over to the bar. Another man was with the sheriff, a tall, slim fellow dressed like a dude in gambler’s black. He was inspecting the gold watch on the end of the chain across his vest.
“Could you make it in half an hour, Mule,” the man said. “That do you?”
“Half an hour’ll be fine,” the lawman, Mule, answered. He turned to Bodie, fixed him with a cool look and then nodded as if suddenly recalling why he had summoned him.
“This here is Ben Thomas, Bodie. He might have some news for you.”
Bodie stepped aside as the lawman put a hand on his chest and eased him out of his way. The lawman trudged off and answered the greeting of three incoming cowhands with a nod.
“Is he always like that?” Bodie asked Thomas.
Thomas gave a guarded grin. “Mule Twoomey don’t ever get out of a walk, Mr. Bodie. Now what was this I heard about you wanting to know the whereabouts of an old man named Doubell and a young girl?”
“Want to find them, that’s all.”
“You claimed they robbed you. Is that right?”
“Yeah, they robbed me sure enough.”
Thomas shook his head. “Complicates things somewhat. I had my heart set on doing some business with Mr. Doubell. He struck me as a man who knew which end of a cigarette to light.”
“Lights them both ends when it suits him,” Bodie growled. “You’ve seen him?”
Thomas nodded and picked up his glass of rye from the counter. Tasting the drink, he beamed. Then, as though suddenly remembering his manners, he asked, “Like a drink, Mr. Bodie?”
“I’ve got no time for drink, Thomas. Where’s Doubell at?”
“He’s in a cottage at the end of the street. I allowed him to rent the place in the absence of the owner, a personal friend of mine. Mr. Doubell wants to buy a place from me, just as soon as he can convert some railroad shares into cash and get the money to our bank here. I was very interested in his proposal. I was quite taken in by his manner. I like the man.”
Bodie sucked in air through his teeth. “He’s a damn cheatin’, thievin’ old buzzard, Thomas, take my word for that. And he ain’t got no shares in anything but robbery. That money he was talkin’ about his mine.”
“Can you prove it, Mr. Bodie? If so, you’d better do it soon. You see, I’ve already signed some papers with Mr. Doubell, but the sale of the land will not be complete till Mr. Doubell’s money arrives from back East.”
Bodie’s mouth twisted. “You can forget about doing any business with him, Thomas. Now how about tellin’ me where that cottage is?”
“Why, it’s right at the end of the street on the western side of town. Nice little place, well kept and recently painted, in fact it’s as fine a property as we have in this town. Vines along the front and back porch to make the place cool in the summer and keep out the wind during the big blows. If you were staying on in this town, and did get your money back, perhaps you’d like to come and see me. There isn’t a more fair or honest land dealer in the whole of the territory. Sheriff Twoomey can vouch for that.”
Bodie was no longer listening. He hurried from the saloon, pulling his gun from his holster. On the boardwalk he called to his men. When they grouped, he led them up the boardwalk at a fast walk. Standing in a store doorway watching all this activity was Blake Durant. When he saw Bodie lead his men in the direction of the Doubell cottage, he pushed himself from the doorway, flicked his cigarette butt into the street and followed.
Sheriff Ray Coulston awoke with the wind driving dust across his face. Grit was caked on his mouth and under his eyelids. He rose on one elbow and groaned as a lance of pain went right through him. He slumped back, dragged his hand across his mouth and blinked the grit from his eyes. He glanced up when he heard a sound from behind. His horse was standing there, looking down at him. Coulston reached back, and grabbed the trailing reins and pulled himself to his feet. Once upright, he leaned against the horse and pulled his shirt from under his belt. Blood had soaked through his shirt and down into the top of his Levis. His gunbelt was smeared with blood. Coulston tore his bandanna from his neck, cleaned as much blood away as he could, then he padded the bandanna and placed it firmly on the wound. His whole body ached and his legs were weak. He gulped in air before he drank from his canteen. Gasping for breath, he filled his lungs with air and painfully pulled himself into the saddle. Only then did he see his gun lying on the ground where it had been jolted from his grip by the impact of Vance Carter’s bullet.
Coulston eased himself to the ground, holstered the gun and then went through the agony of getting into the saddle again. He turned the horse north, thinking of Vance Carter, who had killed old Hap Carne and had almost killed him.
He put his horse into a run, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to cover the miles to Lusc.
Christine Doubell saw the six men walking quickly along the street to the cottage. She breathed in deeply. Her last argument with her uncle before he left town had left her completely worn out. Then the loneliness had come back, despite Doubell’s promise to return as soon as he got a few things straightened out.
Christine smiled without humor. Too many things needed straightening out. She had begun to believe Blake Durant’s account of what had happened. There was no doubt in her mind now that her uncle had stolen ten thousand dollars in gold from Reke Bodie and his friends. She was also certain that, because of the theft, these men had come after him. And she knew her uncle had tricked the gunfighter named Vance Carter and Carter himself would be coming soon, thirsting for blood. It was too much for Christine. She wished she had never left Cheyenne, where at least there were friends she could trust.
She opened the door as Bodie hurried up the path to the porch. In spite of her fear, Christine smoothed her blouse and patted her hair in place. Her look was cool when her gaze met the angry eyes of Reke Bodie.
“Where’s that skunk Doubell?” Bodie demanded as he went up the steps in two long strides.
“My uncle is not here,” Christine said. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Uncle, is it?” Bodie barked. “Now ain’t that just too cute for words!” He moved towards Christine, scowling at her. When his hand reached out to push her aside, Blake Durant spoke from the end of the porch:
“Mind your manners, Bodie.”
Reke Bodie froze for a moment. Then he heeled about, his mouth gaping and his eyes wild.
Blake Durant stepped from the shadows. His Colt was holstered and his thumbs were under his gunbelt. His fingers were spread wide, ready to grasp his gun if Bodie made a move.
Christine, her voice quavering, said, “Everything’s all right, Mr. Durant. My uncle isn’t here.”
“Damn hell he ain’t!” Bodie cried. “That thievin’ buzzard ain’t gettin’ away from me again, girl. Now step aside and let me get to him.”
“He rode out half an hour ago,” Christine said levelly. “And he is not coming back.”
Bodie swore at the girl. Durant shoved him aside roughly and said, “Mister, your manners need changing. I’ve said it twice now. I don’t say anything a third time.”
Bodie’s men had stopped just short of the porch steps. They eyed Durant warily, noting the width of his shoulder, the hang of his gun, the flinty hardness of his eyes.
Bodie straightened and stuck out his jaw at Durant.
“Seems to me you’re stallin’ again, givin’ that thievin’ jasper time to light out.”
“The girl said he rode out,” Durant said.
“Then she’s lyin’. Doubell’s out on his feet just like the rest of us. He’s been ridin’ trails for three days now and he ain’t had enough sleep. I say he’s inside the house and I’m gonna find him and drag him out by the ear. Then I’m gonna beat some information out of
him. What I leave of him, you can have and welcome to it.”
Durant saw lines of worry cut into the smoothness of Christine’s brow. He said, “Look inside if you must, but don’t start throwing things around. The girl’s done you no harm and I’m here to see that you don’t do any to her.”
Bodie mumbled something under his breath and turned back to his men. “Two of you go down one side of the house, two the other. The others come with me. If you see Doubell and he tries to make a break for it, shoot the legs out from under him.”
Bodie threw Durant a sullen look, kicked the door of the cottage open and lunged in. His footsteps were loud and heavy inside the house.
“Has he really gone?” Durant asked in a low voice.
“Yes. Half an hour ago. What’s going to happen, Mr. Durant? Why did he do it?”
There was the noise of furniture being thrown about. Durant said, “Hard to work out what makes some men do things, Miss Doubell. Your uncle, the way I see it, had a hard time most of his life. Sometimes a man packs up when he tries hard to better himself and nothing comes of it. He looks failure in the face day after day until he’s sick and disgusted with it. Then maybe some responsibility comes his way and he gets desperate. I figure your uncle wanted money to set you up, Miss Doubell. Trouble is, the way he went about getting it was all wrong, but I guess he just wouldn’t let himself take a good, honest look at what he was doing.”
Christine stared into Durant’s eyes. She was puzzled. She was aware that his gaze had swept up and down her body, settling for a moment on her high, full breasts. But, strangely, she didn’t feel angry or embarrassed. There was approval in his eyes and little else.
She said, “How can you think that way about him? He stole your horse and left you miles from nowhere. You could still be out there, dying of thirst and hunger.”
“I got my horse back and no harm done.”
Christine gave a shy smile. “You’re a strange man, Mr. Durant.”
He grinned back. “It’s been said more than once before.”
“By other women?” she was quick to ask.
Blake’s smile faded as he thought of Louise Yerby. When they had first met, he just couldn’t talk to her. He’d found it hard to breathe and there was a knot in his tongue. There had been no way he could put his thoughts into words she might understand. And finally she had smiled at him, just as this young woman had, and she’d said, “You’re a strange man, Mr. Durant.”
“You haven’t answered,” Christine said.
The door opened at that moment and Reke Bodie emerged from the house. Sweat ran down his face. “He’s bolted,” he growled.
“I told you that,” Christine said. “Now will you please leave?”
“Like hell I will! He won’t go far, not with you here. He’ll come back; when he does, by hell I’m gonna be here waitin’ for him.”
“I won’t let you stay here,” the girl said defiantly. “If you persist in worrying me, I’ll call the sheriff.”
Bodie snapped a low curse, then his men came around the sides of the house.
“Nothin’ back there, but one horse, Reke.”
Bodie nodded and turned to Durant. “You still claim you ain’t part of this outfit?”
“I go my own way, Bodie, but I have some advice for you. From where I sit, your business is with Pete Doubell, not with his niece.”
“But she knows where he’s gone, Durant. She’s got to know! That old buzzard wouldn’t cut out without tellin’ her where to meet up with him again. I’m tellin’ you, Durant, you’re standin’ on the wrong side of the fence. If you keep goin’ the way you are, you’re gonna buy more trouble than you can handle.”
“I’ll worry about that when the time comes, Bodie. Now how about getting your men off Miss Doubell’s property?”
Bodie glared at him for some time before he turned and went to the top of the steps. “For now I’ll do like you say, Durant. But don’t try to push us anymore. I’m gonna have somebody keep an eye on this place all damn night and tomorrow and for as long as she’s here. Wherever she goes in town, one of my men will be right behind her. And you can do what you damn well like about it.”
Blake shrugged and watched Bodie and his men go off. He was about to take his leave of the girl when she said, “Have you eaten, Mr. Durant?”
Blake shook his head.
“I had some dinner on for Uncle Pete. He didn’t wait for it.”
“Be a pity to see it go to waste,” Durant said.
Her answering smile sent a thrill through him. He studied her intently. She returned his look with warmth in her eyes, making no move to go inside. They were just standing there, not speaking, when a rider flailed his horse along the main street. Bodie and his five companions had stopped just outside the fence. Durant walked to the porch rail and leaned across it. Christine opened the door of the cottage, but something made her look out at the rider now going past the house.
She gave a gasp.
Durant said, “He didn’t get far.”
Christine stepped across the porch to the rail. “Uncle Pete!” she called. “Watch out!”
Durant turned to her and said, “That won’t help him much.” He brushed past her and jumped down into the yard. Bodie ran along beside the fence, gun in hand. But before Bodie reached the street, Pete Doubell had turned the corner of a laneway and there was only the pounding of his horse’s hoofs. Blake Durant left the yard and stood behind Bodie and his men.
Then a second rider appeared. Durant shouldered his way through the five men and Bodie followed him. They saw the rider hunched low on his horse’s neck, driving the animal as fast as it could go.
They saw the black, sullen face of Vance Carter.
Ten – Loner’s Trail
The street was empty again. The night wind sent dust under the bellies of the seven horses lined along the saloon’s hitch rail. Reke Bodie turned as Blake Durant’s hand fell on his shoulder, the grip tearing at his hard muscles.
He snarled. “What the hell do you want, Durant?”
“Carter’s too good for you, Bodie.” Durant walked away and Reke Bodie muttered angrily.
Durant turned into the alleyway near the saloon. It was empty. The echo of hoof beats had died in the night. He stood there listening to the silence before he came back to the main street’s boardwalk. He gave Bodie and his companions a glance and went on towards the saloon. Pushing the swing doors open, he entered and stopped short of the long bar. His stare swept up and down the room, then he walked to the bar and leaned on it. The barkeep came to him and Blake ordered a rye. When it came, he took it in his hand and turned, putting his back to the bar. His gaze stayed on the saloon’s back door.
Reke Bodie came in a few moments later. Without looking at him, Blake Durant said, “Get your drinks and head for the tables. Sit quiet and don’t buy in.”
Bodie stopped, mouth open to argue. But Blake’s sudden glance hit him like the punch of a fist. Bodie gulped uneasily and his men hurried to fetch a bottle of whisky and glasses. When they went off, offering Durant no argument, Bodie said tightly:
“This is more my business than yours, Durant. I ain’t scared of Vance Carter.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Blake said.
Bodie studied Durant for a moment, then spun on his heel and made his way through the tables to join his men. The rest of the saloon customers had become quiet. All eyes had settled on this big man, Blake Durant, who earlier had almost casual manhandled Bodie and his five companions. Now they saw tension in him, and in his eyes was the coldest look a man could command.
The back door opened and a dusty, sullen, sweating Vance Carter appeared. He was three paces into the room before he sighted Blake Durant. He stopped, his eyes narrowed and his hands curled at his sides.
Blake said, “Have a drink, Carter. You look like you need it.”
Vance Carter swung his gaze right and left. He saw Bodie and his men and sneered. “Got the whole pack with you, I see, Durant
.”
“I’m alone,” Blake told him.
Carter hesitated a moment before he brushed trail dust from his shoulders. He looked warily about the room again, then strode to Durant. He leaned over the counter and rubbed his dust-caked face hard with both hands. Letting out an impatient growl, he picked up a whisky bottle and poured himself a drink.
“How come you’re in this town, Durant?” he finally asked.
“It was on my way.”
Carter’s lips peeled back. His eyes went cold. “Thought you didn’t have any set trail to follow.”
“I don’t.”
Carter breathed in deeply and placed his hands palms down on the bar counter. Blake watched him closely and saw the struggle going on in the man’s face and body. Carter looked mean enough to shoot the whole saloon to pieces.
“Leave Doubell alone,” Blake finally said.
The words paled Carter’s face. He turned, his black eyes driving their hate at Durant. “What did you say, drifter?”
“You heard.”
Carter grunted and suddenly his hand flashed down and his gun came up.
Durant didn’t move. “Touch the old man and I’ll come for you, Carter. His fight’s not with you. It was never with you until you bought in. I’ll get him and I’ll get the gold back for Bodie and his outfit. But you’ve got to buy out. Hear me?”
Carter thumbed back the hammer of his Colt. His breathing was faster, louder. “You got some nerve, Durant. Too damned much.”
Blake smiled bleakly. “Just leave the old man alone.”
Carter looked about him with short jerks of his head. There was no fear in his face, only a deep-seated bitterness.
The Loner 4 Page 9
