Brand 8

by Neil Hunter

  ‘Back off, fellers, no need to crowd me. Plenty of room along the bar.’

  ‘Could be you ought to finish that drink and come outside.’

  ‘I’m going to finish the beer,’ Brand said. ‘Not so sure I’m interested in going outside with you. I generally leave when I’m ready.’

  The hostile face darkened with anger. ‘Mister, you leave when I say so. And I say now.’

  Brand saw the fist coming and made to duck away from it. The edge of the bar stopped him. The fist missed his jaw. The follow-up blow clouted him alongside his head. The punch pushed Brand along the edge of the counter, his arm catching his glass of beer and knocking it to the floor. The sound of breaking glass reached Brand through a hiss of noise as he shook his head. The blow had stunned him for a few seconds. It was long enough for clawing hands to grab at his clothing and haul him away from the bar. Hard fists slammed into his body, their effect lessened by the thick coat he was wearing. Brand knew that eventually his body would lose its capacity for punishment. Before that happened he needed to gain some advantage for himself. He didn’t understand the reason behind the unprovoked attack and at this moment he didn’t care. That could come later. He concentrated on the now and hit back. Planting both feet hard against the floor Brand thrust forward, driving his shoulder against the closest body. Proof of his contact came when a man grunted in pain. Brand kept pushing, feeling the man give way. He saw an angry face rising in front of him and he slammed his fist into it. Blood spurted from split lips. The man shook his head, spraying more blood. This time Brand punched him low in the stomach. Hard. The man yelped and sagged to his knees and Brand smashed a hard boot heel across the side of his upturned face. As the man rolled aside Brand felt powerful arms wrap themselves around his body. He twisted violently but the arms maintained their hold. The third man appeared in front of Brand his face twisted with anger as he smashed a hard knuckled fist across Brand’s jaw. The blow landed with a solid impact. Brand’s head seemed to explode with pain. It felt as if the side of his face had been ripped off. For a few seconds he blacked out and when he could see again the same fist was raised before his eyes. He drove his heels into the floor and kicked back. Heard the man behind him grunt with the effort as he tried to keep Brand imprisoned in his arms. Then the man’s back was slammed up against the edge of the bar. Ribs cracked and pain edged the man’s exclamation. His grip slackened and Brand yanked himself free. He stepped forward to meet the forward rush of the man in front of him, brushing aside the fist swinging at his head and drove in swift punches of his own, putting every ounce of his anger in the crunching blows that knocked the other man back. Helpless under the onslaught the man pawed the air as he tried to defend himself. Brand overcame the resistance and kept up his attack until the man stumbled and fell to the saloon floor, gasping and spitting blood.

  Brand opened his coat and pulled out his Colt. He stepped away from the bar until he was able to cover all three of the bloody figures. He heeled a chair close and sat down, watching them. His face and body throbbed with pain and he spat blood from his aching mouth. He caught the attention of the bartender.

  ‘Hey, Wally, whiskey. Make it a large one.’

  The bartender nodded. He poured the drink and brought it over. Brand took it in his left hand, noticing that his knuckles were already starting to swell. He downed the whiskey.

  ‘You know these boys?’ he asked the bartender.

  Wally nodded. ‘The McAdams.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Brand muttered.

  He had come all the way from Denver to find these people and had ended up brawling with them. Not that they had given him much choice in the matter. He wondered sourly why it was nothing ever ran smoothly in his life. No matter how a man wished things to happen there was always something liable to cause upset.

  He glanced up to see the one who had first spoken to him standing a few feet away. The man’s face still held a sullen expression but it was also bruised and bloody now. It gave Brand a small degree of satisfaction.

  ‘Ease off there, mister,’ Brand warned. ‘No damn call for us to fight. Believe it or not I’m here to help you.’

  The man wiped blood from his mouth. ‘You was askin’ about Jenny,’ he said. ‘We’ve had enough trouble without you bastards chasin’ that girl all over creation. Hell, man, she needs to be left alone.’

  ‘There’ve been others?’ Brand was suddenly very interested. ‘How many?’

  ‘Only two of ’em … hell, I ain’t wastin’ my time tellin’ you all I know,’

  ‘Be a deal less painful than the way we’ve been talking up to now.’

  ‘Look, mister, who the hell are you? And what is this all about?’

  Chapter Three

  ‘After what happened to Jenny’s old man, and with her running scared, we got past askin’ too many questions,’ Tom McAdam said slowly, favoring the swollen lip Brand had given him.

  ‘Hell, Tom, how do we know this sonofabitch is who he says he is?’

  Brand glanced across the table at the speaker. Ned McAdam was young and full of youthful belligerence. He made no attempt to conceal his suspicions about Brand.

  ‘I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not,’ Brand said. ‘I’ve told you why I’m here. My business is with Jenny McAdam. To help her. Don’t stand in my way, boy, or I’ll finish what you started tonight.’

  ‘Ned, back off.’ This time there was a hard edge to Tom McAdam’s words. He looked beyond Ned’s angry face to where the third McAdam brother leaned against the bar nursing a beer. ‘Just go see if Ed is all right.’

  Ned leaned forward, his face darkening. He threw a murderous glance in Brand’s direction, eyes challenging, but when he received no response he thrust to his feet and went across to the bar.

  ‘He figures he’s tough,’ Tom McAdam said, almost apologetic.

  ‘He’ll learn,’ Brand replied. ‘One way or the other.’

  ‘I wish I could learn what this all about,’ McAdam snapped. ‘Hell, man, surely you can tell me?’

  ‘The less people who know the better,’ Brand said. He had no intention of revealing his assignment to McAdam. There was no need. Once he had an answer to his questions he would be finished with Tom McAdam and his brothers. ‘Where is she?’

  McAdam stared at the tabletop. He fiddled with his whiskey glass. Finally he looked up, fixing his stare on Brand’s face.

  ‘About a day’s ride south of here there’s a line of hills. At one end is a high peak. Has a bald crest. Halfway up the west slope is a canyon that runs into the center of the peak. There’s a cabin an’ all. Jenny’s hiding there.’

  Brand drained his glass. ‘Thanks for that,’ he said. ‘We could have done this without the bruises.’

  Tom McAdam raised his glass. ‘What the hell.’

  Stepping outside Brand sucked in cool, fresh air. He winced as pain flared over his ribs. He was going to be stiff come morning. He crossed over to the hotel. In the morning he would have to rent a horse and go look for Jenny McAdam. The prospect did little to cheer him up. New Mexico was big country, and even though he had been born in the territory, covering much of it over the years, he was aware he could very easily find himself in difficulty. But that was tomorrow and it could wait. All he needed right now was his room and his bed.

  He had almost forgotten about the woman called Connie. But she hadn’t forgotten him. He was halfway up the stairs when he became aware of being watched. She was waiting for him at the top, leaning against the wall. The gray dress had been exchanged for a thin, clinging robe.

  ‘Heard you got yourself into a little trouble.’

  Brand couldn’t help smiling. ‘News travels fast around here.’

  ‘Small town.’

  ‘Life is just one round of fun and games.’

  Connie smiled. ‘I heard that too. You got any damage that needs tending. Aches and pains?’

  She followed him to his door, waiting while he unlocked it, then followed him inside. Brand
closed the door. He peeled off his coat, biting back against the sore ribs.

  ‘Just what went on over to the saloon?’ Connie asked. ‘Way I heard it you and the McAdam boys had a real set to.’

  Brand took off his shirt and examined himself in the mirror over the wash stand.

  ‘Just a misunderstanding,’ he said.

  Connie laughed. ‘You often have that kind of misunderstanding?’ she asked.

  ‘From time to time.’

  She stared at him, not failing to notice the scars laced across his hard torso. ‘Once in a while?’ she repeated softly. When Brand turned towards her she asked, ‘Hey, you want to see my scars?’

  ‘This all part of room service? Or have I won a local raffle?’

  Connie shook her head. ‘No. I learned a long time ago that life’s too damn short to waste. And if I take a liking to someone I can’t see the sense in passing up the opportunity for a little break in the routine. You’d be surprised how lonely it gets in a place like this.’

  ‘You? Lonely? Can’t believe that.’

  ‘My problem is I’m choosy.’

  Brand went to her, his resolved weakening before her blatant invitation. Before he reached her Connie let the robe slip to the floor and he caught a glimpse of her full-breasted nakedness before she pushed against him, pressing her soft lips against his.

  What followed was still hazy in Brand’s mind when he opened his eyes the next morning. The curtains had been opened and brilliant sunlight streamed into the room. He sat up slowly. His head ached dully and the pain over his ribs was still there. He staggered from the bed to the wash stand. Poured water into the basin and soaked his face and head until the nagging ache subsided. Then he had an all-over wash, dried himself and got dressed. The dark suit was packed away and he dressed in faded Levi’s and a dark shirt. He pulled on his socks, then stomped his feet into his boots. Sitting on the edge of the bed he checked his revolver and the Henry rifle he had brought with him. He made certain both weapons were fully loaded.

  Downstairs he found Connie behind the desk, going through a stack of paperwork. She glanced up as he appeared and handed her his room key.

  ‘You leaving us?’

  ‘I’ll be back for my gear,’ he said.

  ‘I look forward to that. Anything in particular you found to your liking?’

  Brand smiled. ‘Room service was of a very high standard.’

  ‘Yes it was. How long you going to be away?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Connie watched him cross the lobby and step outside. He paused for a moment, getting his bearings, and then he was gone. She stared at the empty doorway for a long time. Wasn’t that the way it always ended? Men who came and went, leaving her alone. Except for the memories. She tried to push her thoughts of Brand to the back of her mind, concentrating on the paperwork. The problem was forgetting didn’t come easily when it came to someone like Brand. Surprisingly she found herself blushing at her recall of what had happened the previous night, and she finally admitted that the memory of that was something she did not want to lose too quickly.

  After a good breakfast Brand sought out the livery stable. It was at the far end of town, a two story wooden building fronted by high double doors. The owner was a squat, broad Dutchman who looked slow on his first appearance. He turned out to be far from that. He was a canny horse trader. He dickered for every cent involved in the hiring of a good horse and saddle. Even so Brand came away knowing he had made a good deal. He rode his newly acquired animal up the street to a general goods store where he stocked up on food and cooking utensils.

  Leaving town Brand cut off south and gave his frisky horse its head for a time, letting it blow off steam. The air was fresh after the previous day’s rain and the heat was back.

  He had a good ride ahead of him and he used it to do some thinking. To consider what might be in store for him. Tom McAdam had told him two men had been in Jubillo looking for Jenny. The moment she had found this out the girl had quit the McAdam place for the hideaway in the nearby hills. That had been two days ago. Ample time for the men looking for her to have picked up her trail. For all Brand knew Jenny McAdam might already be in their hands. Or dead. The people involved had already shown what they were capable of. They were the kind who would kill at the slightest provocation. They had no remorse. No consideration for the suffering they caused. They were hard, uncompromising men. The thought of Jenny McAdam in their hands concerned Brand.

  He rode all that day and at dusk he was able to see the hills on the horizon. He kept riding until full dark forced him to stop. There was no moon and the few stars offered little in the way of guiding light. Brand made camp in a dry wash, building his fire beneath a rocky overhang. He fried himself a couple of slices of thick bacon and warmed up some of the beans he’d purchased. While he waited for his coffee to brew he pulled on his thick coat as protection against the chill. He ate his solitary meal and drank his coffee. When he had finished he lit a thin cigar and sat with his back to a solid chunk of weathered rock.

  It took a while for him to get comfortable. His steady riding had not done a deal to ease the mild discomfort he still felt after the fight with the McAdams. His face was sore too and he allowed he was going to have to go without shaving for a day or so to give it time to heal up.

  In the morning he would start looking for tracks. He would soon know if Jenny McAdam had been around here and if she had been followed. Later he checked his horse, unrolled his blanket and settled for the night. Before sleep claimed him he admitted it had been a sight more comfortable sharing his bed with Connie.

  He woke early, rolling out of his blanket and clearing his camp site while a fresh pot of coffee brewed. He had his couple of cups, emptied the pot and saddled up. Moving off he scanned the hills he was nearing and studied the ground for tracks. He had been in the saddle for an hour and was just negotiating the foothills when he spotted a rider. Brand pulled his Henry rifle from the saddle-sheath and levered a round into the breech. As he brought his horse around he recognized the rider.

  It was Tom McAdam.

  ‘That’s a sure way of getting yourself shot at,’ Brand snapped, lowering the rifle.

  ‘You picked up any trail?’ McAdam asked. He stood in his stirrups, searching the way ahead.

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  Brand fished out a fresh cigar and matches. He lit the cigar and studied McAdam. The man was jumpy, obviously concerned over some matter.

  ‘They were at the house again,’ McAdam said abruptly.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday. Still askin’ after Jenny. When they realized we weren’t hiding her they lit out. Looks like they headed in this direction. I didn’t find out until I got back. I left the others back to home and took out after you. Figured this was where you’d be heading.’

  ‘Damn,’ Brand said. He scanned the slopes that rose in front of him. ‘They could be anywhere up there. Could have picked up Jenny’s trail by this time.’

  McAdam struggled to form his next words.

  ‘I’d like to go along with you, Brand. We give you a hard time yesterday. We were wrong and I figure I owe you. Another gun could come in handy.’

  ‘You know these hills?’

  ‘Damn right I do.’

  ‘You want to be useful get me to that hideaway by the quickest route you know.’

  Tom McAdam nodded. He yanked on the reins, turning his horse and set off along the base of the slope. Brand followed as they rode McAdam’s unmarked trail for almost a mile. Without warning McAdam started up the slope. Brand realized McAdam hadn’t been exaggerating his knowledge of the hills. He seemed to know every rock and clump of brush, every hidden gully and hump. They rode for uppermost of two hours, their horses lathered and winded. And then McAdam drew rein. He hunched round in his saddle as Brand eased alongside. McAdam pulled off his hat and sleeved sweat from his face.

  ‘Jesus, it’s hot,’ he grumbled.

  Brand wasn’t abou
t to argue. The open aspect of the hills offered little cover from the hard beat of the sun. He could feel his own shirt clinging damply to his back.

  ‘We stopping for a reason?’ he asked McAdam. ‘Or is it just to pass the time of day?’

  McAdam managed a smile. ‘You’re a hard son of a bitch, Brand, I’ll give you that.’ He raised a hand and pointed. ‘See there. Where the bald peak starts. At the base is the way up to the canyon.’

  Brand followed his direction and picked out the dark split in the hardrock. The entrance to the hideaway. He just hoped they weren’t too late.

  It took another hour to reach the entrance to the canyon. Close up it turned out to be wider than he had imagined. At the opening Brand reined in, studying the dusty ground.

  McAdam swore when he spotted what had caught Brand’s attention. Faint tracks in the dust where a single rider had entered the canyon. The hoof prints were a few days old. But now fresher prints, of two horses, could been seen overlaying the first.

  ‘Not been made long,’ McAdam said.

  ‘No more than an hour.’

  Brand pushed his horse into the canyon. It ran in a straight line for a couple of hundred yards, then curved off to the right, widening as it leveled out again.

  ‘How far does it run?’

  ‘A half mile.’

  As they neared the end of the defile it opened out into the large, natural basin where the cabin stood. Brand eased to a stop. He dismounted and tethered his horse. McAdam joined him.

  ‘The cabin’s to the left. Just beyond those trees.’

  Brand moved through the heavy brush that dotted the area. He made his way through the stand of timber until he was able to see the cabin. There was lean to tacked on one side. An unsaddled horse stood in the shade. Two more horses, both saddled, had been tied to one of the lean to’s uprights.

  ‘Damn,’ McAdam muttered. ‘Those belong to the two been askin’ about Jenny.’

  ‘Well it looks like they found her.’