by L. P. Holmes
Cold water on his face and neck brought him up to the full vigor of the day. His step carried a new spring to it as he crossed to the cook shack. The others were there ahead of him, but there was one missing. “Where’s Muir?” he asked curtly.
There was no answer. Then Tres Debley said dryly: “I was wondering about that myself. He was in his bunk when I turned in last night, Dave.”
Dave laid his glance on the others—Challis, Olds, and Caraway. “Well? You got any answers?”
Olds shrugged. “He came home with us and was in his blankets when we went to sleep. He was gone when we woke up this morning. His saddle’s gone, too. That’s all I know.”
Dave looked at Challis and Caraway. “What do you think?”
Challis, a surly sort, grunted. “Olds told it all.”
Dave took his seat, his eyes pinched and thoughtful. He recalled the faint sound of hoofs he’d heard, which had seemed almost dreamlike at the time. His glance lifted to Hippo Dell’s broad back, where Hippo stood busy over his stove.
“How about you, Dell? You got any idea of what could have sent Muir riding off so mysteriously?”
Hippo came around, ponderous yet light. His moon face told not a thing, his fat-bulwarked eyes even less. “I turned in early last night. Never even heard you fellers come home. But from what I’ve heard this morning, maybe Joe Muir figgered this outfit was too unhealthy to hang around.” There was a moist, slurring inflection in Hippo’s final statement.
“Meaning … what?” shot back Dave Wall. “What did you hear this morning, Hippo?”
“Why,” said Hippo, “I heard that last night you sided Bart Sutton against Nick Karnes and Whitey Brewer, that you gunned Nick and watched Sutton do the same to Whitey. Only natural that Muir would wonder about that. I’m wondering myself.”
“Wondering what, Hippo?” Wall’s tone took on a slight crackle.
Hippo Dell seemed to square himself. “Wondering what the hell it means when the ramrod of an outfit guns down his own men to save the neck of …”
“Not my men,” cut in Wall. “I fired Karnes and Brewer yesterday. I also issued orders that Square S and everything connected with it was to be left alone. Karnes and Brewer knew where I stood. Maybe you don’t like that stand, Hippo?”
Hippo’s eyes seemed to sink a little deeper behind the rolls of fat. He shrugged, and turned back to his stove. “You’re the boss,” he said.
Wall recalled again what Tom Burke had said about Hippo Dell. Burke had mentioned Hippo, right after saying that he felt Luke Lilavelt had a spy at this headquarters. Maybe Hippo was that spy. Or maybe Joe Muir was it. Maybe that was where Muir had gone now, riding to tell Lilavelt about last night’s ruckus, and of Wall’s siding Bart Sutton and saving Sutton’s life. This made sense, and Wall knew what he had to do.
He bent all his attention to his breakfast, finished as the others got up from the table. He looked up and said: “Just a minute there. I’m going to be away for a few days. Tres Debley is in charge. Any man who isn’t willing to take Debley’s orders can have his time. What about it?”
Olds said: “Suits me if it suits you, Wall.”
This seemed to be the reaction of Challis and Caraway, so Wall let it lay that way.
Tres Debley followed Wall over to the corrals and watched him catch up a pair of fast horses. “Anything for my ears alone, Dave?”
“Yeah. I’m all through with Luke Lilavelt.”
Tres hit his hands together, definitely pleased. “Why, now, that makes a pair of us. I’ll ride with you, and to hell with this layout.”
Wall shook his head. “No, Tres. You got to stick around. I’ll be coming back, and you’ve got to keep the outfit in line until I do. That means keeping them away from Square S. No telling what they might cook up if left to themselves. I’ve a feeling there’s plenty more to Hippo Dell than just fat. I don’t trust that man. And you see, Tres … while I’m all done with Lilavelt in one way, I’m just starting for him in another.”
Tres Debley looked long into Dave Wall’s eyes, then smiled faintly. They understood each other, these two. “Hurry back, man,” drawled Tres. “I look to the future with interest. Good luck.”
Dave Wall rode south and east from the Crimson Hills and he rode fast. This time his outfit was most meager, only what he could stuff into his saddlebags. The horse that followed at lead was a relay bronco, carrying nothing until, after several speedy miles, Dave pulled up and switched his saddle to the fresh animal. Traveling this way, using the horses alternately, he covered the long miles twice as fast as he had coming in.
The sun arched across the long, hot day. In the first blue dusk, Dave saw, off to his left, the distant cluster of winking lights that marked the town of Cottonwood. But they held no lure for him, and they drifted behind and were lost in the night. Sixteen hours after leaving the Crimson Hills, Dave shuffled his weary horses up to a little ranch house standing in a meadow in a bend of Magpie Creek.
The place was dark, for it lacked but an hour of midnight. Dave stepped down and stood for a moment, waiting for the feel of the earth to come up through his stiffened legs. He was thoroughly saddle beat, gaunt with fatigue. He watered his horses at the creek, then unsaddled and turned them into a corral where feed racks loomed spectrally in the light of a late-rising, lopsided moon. He hung his gear on the corral fence and went over to the house. His knocking brought movement, the murmur of voices, and then a light. A wiry, brown, thin-faced young fellow with electric blue eyes, clad in jeans and undershirt opened the door. He held a lamp in his left hand, but carried his right slightly behind him.
Dave Wall grinned crookedly. “You won’t need the gun, Jerry. It’s only me.”
“Dave!” exclaimed Jerry Connell. “Man … I’m glad to see you. Come in … come in! Judy, it’s that big, rough, tough brother of yours!”
There was an excited feminine murmur, a hurrying rush, and then Dave was in the arms of his only sister, Mrs. Jerry Connell. He gave her a mighty hug, then held her off at arm’s length and looked at her fondly.
“A little more the matron, but still the prettiest girl this side of the desert.”
“Oh … oh!” exclaimed Judith Connell. “It used to be in all of the state. Dave! Don’t tell me that you, the confirmed lone wolf, have at last met …?”
“Same old Judy,” cut in Wall, grinning wearily. “Always jumping at conclusions. Suppose you do a little jumping around the kitchen instead? I saw food last at six this morning.”
Judith lingered for a moment, staring up at him with anxious eyes. “It’s not like you to come in at this time of night on a visit, Dave … not without cause. Is there … trouble?”
“Being half starved is reason enough, isn’t it?” he teased.
“Well, maybe,” she admitted reluctantly. She wasn’t entirely satisfied, but she gave him another hug, then headed off to the kitchen.
Jerry Connell, studying Wall intently, said slowly: “Judy is pretty keen about such things. What is it, Dave?”
Wall turned a sober face, kept his voice low. “I guess we’re going to have to face the big showdown, fellah. Sorry, but my hand is forced. I’m through with Lilavelt.”
Jerry tipped a slow nod. “I’m glad,” he said simply. “I really am, Dave. It will be a hell of a relief. I’ve been living with this thing so long now, seeing myself as only half a man with you making all the sacrifices. I want you to believe me when I say I was going to ask for the showdown the next time we got together. I’m in good shape now. Had a fine year. I don’t owe a cent and I’ve got a fair little bank balance, enough to take care of Judy and the kids for quite a time. Yeah, this is it, Dave … and I tell you I’m glad.”
“It’s going to be mighty tough on Judy,” reminded Wall.
“I know,” agreed Jerry. “But she’s the pure quill, with plenty of what it takes. I think she’s half suspe
cted something for some time now, for she’s been after me and after me as to why you’ve stayed on with Lilavelt, and it’s been pretty hard trying to figure out reasons. What happened, anyhow?”
Dave Wall shrugged. “He put me up against a job I just couldn’t stomach. Call it that, or call it that the bottle was suddenly full and running over. All of a sudden I just found myself at the end of the trail. I don’t want you to think I’m running out on you and Judy and the kids, Jerry. You know I’d never do that. But this thing …” He shrugged again.
“Run out be damned.” Jerry Connell gripped Wall’s arm tightly. “Show me another man who would have done for anyone what you’ve done for Judy and me. I tell you this had to come … and I’m glad.”
“You make it easier for me, Jerry.” Wall smiled. “How are the kids?”
“Great. The twins are a pair of young hellions. And little Judy … she’s her mother all over again. Dave, if I can shake out from under that one fool mistake, I’ll be the happiest man alive.”
“You will, fellah. Lilavelt has bought himself the fight of his life.” A thread of harshness crept into Wall’s voice and dark bleakness shadowed his face. “I made him a couple of promises. I’ll keep them.” Then his mood lightened. “I smell coffee.”
They sat across the kitchen from him while he ate, Jerry intent with sober thoughts, Judith with her chin cupped in her hands, her fair hair loose across her robe-clad shoulders, her eyes resting on him with probing intentness.
“You’ve grown older, brother mine. You’ve lost weight. You’re lean as a whip. It’s been a long time between visits. What have you been doing? Tell us about yourself.”
“Nothing to tell, Judy. I ride here. I ride there. Time passes and, well … that’s about all.”
“No it isn’t,” she differed shrewdly. “There’s a look about the pair of you. Come on … tell sister.”
Wall met Jerry’s glance. “I think,” he said slowly, “that the telling rightly belongs to Jerry.”
“That’s right,” Jerry said, clearing his throat. “And when I’m done, I hope you still love me.”
Judith swung her head, looked at her husband. Her gray eyes grew big and dark, but steady. “As long as it isn’t another woman, Jerry … nothing else matters. I’ve known for a long time that you had something on your mind and I’ve waited, feeling that in your own good time you’d tell me. Go ahead.”
Jerry captured one of her hands. “It could never be another woman,” he said simply. “This, my dear, is the story of a fool.”
And then he told it, simply and bluntly. It was the story of reckless, heedless youth, of too much trust in a man not worthy of it, and of an extra glass or two of liquor that tipped recklessness over to foolhardiness.
“It was in New Mexico,” Jerry said. “I was a kid of eighteen, riding for Sam Larkin’s Broken Arrow. We’d been three months without sight of a town. We were pretty woolly when we hit Round Mountain. There was a man in the crew named Big George Yearly. To a rattle-weeded kid he was quite a man. I thought he was the greatest guy in the world. Well, in Round Mountain I drank more than was good for me and along with some of the others ended up in a gambling layout, bucking the tiger. We were ripe for a shearing and we got it. Three months’ wages were gone in jig time. We went outside and got to talking it over. Big George Yearly claimed the table was crooked. It might have been, at that. Anyhow, that was when the damn’ foolishness really started.”
Jerry paused, poured himself a cup of coffee, nursed it between both hands.
“Big George suggested that we get our money back. We were to wait until the crowd had thinned out and the joint about to close for the night. Then we’d barge in and get our money back. At the time it seemed like a right fine idea. Big George made it sound all right. They had, so he put it, really stolen our money by using a crooked table, so it was only fair for us to go get it back at gunpoint. As I say, it seemed like a right fine idea, about then.”
Judith Connell stirred slightly. Looking at her, Dave Wall saw that her face was paling.
Jerry went on doggedly. “We drew straws to see who would stay with the horses. I got that job. Big George and the others went in after the money. They didn’t get it. It wasn’t that simple or easy. There was shooting. Three men besides Big George went into the joint. Only Big George came out alive. He came in a hurry, running for his horse. The shooting had stirred up the town. The night marshal showed. He yelled at Big George to stop. Big George didn’t. The night marshal threw a shot, but missed. Big George threw one back and the marshal went down.”
Jerry took a deep drag of coffee, his eyes bleak with old memories.
“Big George hit leather and rode for it. He didn’t wait for me or pay me any attention at all. He just hit leather and rode. I never saw him again. I forked my horse and lit out, too. I kept going, clear out of New Mexico. For the next couple of years all I did was ride and ride. I’d stop in some place only long enough to earn a little stake and then I’d cut loose and hit the trail again. Finally I ended up here … and met you, Judith.”
The next moment Dave Wall was very proud of this sister of his. Color had come back into her cheeks, a faint smile touched her lips, and her eyes were soft and fond as she leaned over and took her husband’s hand.
“I’ve only one little bit of censure for you, my dear. That you didn’t tell Dave all this before.”
“I did tell him,” said Jerry. “I told him all about it before asking his permission to marry you.”
“Why, then,” said Judith Connell softly, “you’re still the very perfect husband. And you were afraid, all this time, to tell me? Foolish man. It doesn’t amount to a thing. You did nothing, actually. You did no shooting. You hurt no one. We’ll just forget it all.”
“It isn’t going to be that easy, my dear,” Jerry told her soberly. “You’ve wondered and wondered why Dave has worked for Luke Lilavelt? Well, somehow, some way, Lilavelt heard of that New Mexico trouble and my part in it. And he’s used that knowledge as a club over Dave’s head ever since, driving Dave to do jobs for him he could never have hired done, no matter how much money he paid.”
Judith looked at Dave and began to cry. “Dave. For me … for us … you’ve given years … darkened your name … Oh, I’ve heard what people have said about you … how you were Luke Lilavelt’s right-hand man when the job was so rough and savage nobody else … Oh, Dave … you’ve given so much …”
“There, there,” comforted Wall quickly. “We talked it over, Jerry and I did, after Lilavelt showed his cards. The twins were little guys then, just six months old, and Jerry was just getting this ranch going pretty well. We considered the future and figured the more evidence of good faith and sound citizenship we could pile up on Jerry’s part, the better break and chance for leniency he’d get in a court of law when we finally opened the books. And, of course, the more chance for a good future for you and the kids. We went at it with our eyes open. We knew what we were doing. So don’t you weep over me, old girl. I’m doing all right. And so is Jerry. For now we’re going to have a little showdown with Mister Luke Lilavelt. Tomorrow, Jerry and I head for Basin, to have a talk with Judge Masterson. And we’re going to lay all the cards on the table.”
Judith made no effort to stop the tears. She went from one to the other of them, hugging them and murmuring something about the two finest men in the world.
It was far after midnight when they ceased talking and making plans. Judith went and made up a spare bunk for Dave, and then led him into the small corner room where the children slept. She held a shaded lamp while Dave looked. His eyes softened and he touched small, dreamless heads with a gentle finger.
“Put all three of ’em in my hip pocket at once, almost,” he murmured. “Yet they’re the biggest things in the world. I ain’t got one thin regret, Judy.”
He thought of this again before he fell asleep. Not a si
ngle regret for what the past had cost him, so long as it helped those little ones and Judith and Jerry. The thought held him still and musing. And then he thought of Luke Lilavelt, the man who held a club over this family, who would see it broken up and wickedly hurt just to advance his own greedy, tricky ends.
Dave Wall grew rigid under his blankets, caught up with a cold and bitter hate. Luke Lilavelt had made him into something that other men feared and avoided, made him a dark legend across the better part of the state. Well, Lilavelt had created something that had now turned on him, unleashed a force that, if he lived, vowed Wall, would grind Luke Lilavelt down and smash him as he had smashed others.
It was a hard thought to carry into sleep, but when sleep came all that went away and Wall relaxed fully, as though comforted by the subconscious knowledge that the trail had taken a right-angled turn and that a new and better future was beckoning.
He was awakened by Judith shaking his shoulder. Cool dawn lay outside. Judith’s voice was shaky.
“Sheriff Cole Ashabaugh is at the door, Dave. He … he’s come for Jerry. I … I want you there when Jerry faces him.”
Wall dressed swiftly, his thoughts winging. This could mean only one thing. Luke Lilavelt had got word of that affair in Crater City, that shootout that had put Nick Karnes and Whitey Brewer dead on a saloon floor, and of his part in the picture. There was only one way Lilavelt could have got the news this quickly, and that was through Joe Muir, the saddle hand who had sneaked away from the Crimson Hills headquarters in the dark of night. And now Lilavelt had retaliated, struck swiftly, doing what he had threatened all along, should Wall ever turn against him and his interests. He had opened the door of Jerry Connell’s past.
Wall set his gun belt about his lean middle with hard jerks. All right, Mister Luke Lilavelt, he thought grimly. You’ve made good your promise. Now I’ll make good on mine. War is what you’ve asked for, war is what you get. No holds barred, no quarter asked, no quarter given. War … to the last bitter, hating breath.
