“We heard that Halloran told him the law would have to decide the nesters’ case, and that if he had ordered Moffit and Miller killed, he would hang.
“Well, that was when he started to come apart. He had ruled like a little king here and had come to believe that he was almost that, and everything had gone about as he wanted until you came along.”
“You mean everything went all right until he tried to turn some people out of their homes.”
“Your whipping Turner really began it for him, for he did not actually hear of what happened in Blazer until afterward. I mean, he heard you tell Halloran about the nesters who were killed but I don’t believe he realized he had lost men, too. Soderman in particular.”
“What was that about stolen cattle?”
“When they left, some of his own hands drove off a herd he had planned to drive to Montana for the mining camps. Cub went after them.”
“You must go,” he urged. “Take my little gray. He’s right out there under the trees. Don’t worry about him. He can run all the way and not be breathing hard at the end.”
She kissed him lightly on the lips and then was gone. He walked to the door to see her get into the saddle, and then turned back.
All was dark and still. The big Yaqui was asleep. He was breathing deeply and his face was flushed. Kilkenny laid a hand on his brow and it was hot, but he was sleeping and better left undisturbed.
Kilkenny walked back to the candle and checked his guns. Then he reloaded Brigo’s guns and retrieved the shotgun kept under the bar. He found two more pistols, and both were loaded. He placed one on the bar and tucked the other in his waistband. Then he doused the candle and sat down in a chair from which he could watch both doors and hear Brigo’s breathing.
It would be a long time until morning.
Twice during the long hours until daybreak he arose and paced restlessly about the great room or peered out into the ghostly street. Once something struck the broken glass of a bottle and he was out of his chair in an instant, but it proved to be only a lonely burro wandering along the dead street.
Toward morning he slept a little in snatches, every sense alert for trouble or for some stirring on the part of the big Yaqui.
Not until it was growing gray in the street and he had looked in on Brigo again did he think of food. He went into the big, empty kitchen and looked about, but found very little. He put on water for coffee, but the eating of the past weekend and the celebration had almost stripped the kitchen.
He went back to Brigo and found the big Yaqui awake. The Yaqui turned his head to look at him and Kilkenny said, “Nita went to the Cup. She’s sending Price Dixon down for you.” Then he added, “Turns out he’s a doctor.”
“I know. I know for long time about this.”
“How do you feel?”
“Not good.” Brigo was still, then he said, “Ver’ weak.”
“All right. You sit tight.” He took the gun from the bar. “I’ll leave you with this. I’m going over to the store for grub. Be right back.”
The street was empty. He stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. There was no sound, not even a squeaky pump or braying mule. He walked along the boardwalk to Leathers’s store. He rattled the knob, and there was no response. Without further hesitation he put his shoulder to the door, lifted up on the knob, and pushed. The lock burst and the door swung inward.
Leathers appeared from the back of the store. “Here!” he exclaimed angrily. “What are you doing?”
“When I rattled the door, you should have opened it. I figured maybe you wanted me to come right on in.”
“That door was locked!”
“Was it, now?” He glanced innocently at the door. “Well, what d’ you know? It surely isn’t locked now!”
“I told you once I wouldn’t sell to you,” Leathers protested.
“So you did,” Kilkenny said mildly. “I figured you’d probably changed your mind. Where’ve you been the past few days, Leathers? There’s been some changes, and there will be more.”
He threw a slab of bacon on the counter, put a dozen eggs into a paper sack, and gathered a few other things he liked. He kept the eggs separate but filled a burlap sack with other things he thought might be needed, including two boxes of .44’s.
From his pocket he took some money and dropped it on the counter.
“Leathers,” he said, “you’re both a damn fool and a yellowbelly. Why did you ever come west in the first place? This isn’t your kind of country. You’re built for a small, very civilized little community where you can knuckle under to authority and crawl every time somebody looks at you. We don’t much care for that in the West, and they probably didn’t like it wherever you came from.”
“Hale will get you for this!” Leathers said angrily.
“Leathers,” Kilkenny said patiently, “hasn’t it dawned on you that Hale is finished? Half his men have quit, and some of them are stealing his cattle. Hale himself has found a hole and crawled into it. If he is still alive thirty days from now, he will be indicted for murder.
“You’ve spent your life living in the shadow of bigger men. Part of it is due to that sanctimonious wife of yours. If King Bill happened to smile at her, she’d walk in a daze for hours. The trouble is that she’s a snob and you’re a weakling.
“Take a tip from me. Take what cash you’ve got, enough supplies for the trip, and get out.”
“And leave my store?”
“Within the next few hours Cub Hale will be riding into town with his outfit. They will be mad, and you know how much respect he has for you or anyone like you. If they don’t clean you out, the Hatfields will.
“You refused supplies when we needed them, but now Hale is finished, and so are you. There’s no place for you here any longer. If Cedar lasts, and I don’t believe it will, we’ll start from the ground up and build a new town, and we want men who will stand on their own two feet, like Perkins over in Blazer.”
He walked back to the saloon and stored his grub.
Brigo was awake and had propped himself up a little. He had the gun in his hand.
Kilkenny went back to the kitchen, made coffee and some hot broth, which he took to Brigo. The big man was weak, so he fed him himself.
From time to time he went from window to window looking out. The sunlit street remained empty. Not a creature stirred. Yet the Hale riders would be coming back, and he wanted to get out before they did. From the back of the saloon he saw a buckboard standing at the side of a corral about fifty yards away.
Were there horses in the stable? Whose were they?
He scrambled some eggs, fried some bacon, and drank several cups of coffee.
Brigo had fallen asleep. He was flushed and feverish. The street was still empty, so Kilkenny went along the back of the buildings to the corral. There were several horses in the stable, so he harnessed two and led them out, leaving a note behind that the horses had been borrowed for an injured man and would be returned.
He hitched the horses to the buckboard and took it back to the Palace. From the back door he carried a mattress and some bedding and arranged them in the back of the buckboard.
He took the team to the usual place under the trees and tied them there, then went back to the saloon. Brigo was asleep, and he hesitated to awaken him, for sleep was the greatest curative, given the constitution Brigo had. He needed medical attention, and Doc Pollard, Hale’s man, had fled to the Castle.
He went to the front door and barred it, then sat down at a table from which he could watch the street and waited.
He took up a spare deck of cards and riffled them in his fingers.
Nita was at the Hatfields’ by now. At least he hoped she was. He had been a fool about her. He should have asked her to marry him before he left Texas. She would have come with him, and after all, he was not nearly so well known as Hardin or Hickok. He could just drop from sight.
Why not now? No use worrying about what he should have done, f
or the chance was here, now, staring him in the face. Suppose he did get killed eventually? Doesn’t everybody die sometime? He had known for a long time that she was the girl for him, and lovely as the place in the high peaks was, he knew he could find another. Why not California? They did not know him there.
She was lovely to look at, tender and thoughtful, and above all, she was strong. She knew herself and what sort of person she was and wished to become.
Yet always the memory returned of the faces of the wives of other gunfighters, some of the fine men who had died bringing the law to little frontier communities. He had taken the news to more than one, and the bodies of their husbands to at least two. That was what had stopped him until now.
Bartram had Sally Crane. Soon they would be married. He remembered her sweet, youthful face, flushed with happiness. It made him feel old and tired.
The big Yaqui was still asleep. He tiptoed to the door and looked out. All was quiet. The clouds were building up around the peaks. If it rained, it would make it tough to move Jaime Brigo. Thunder rumbled like a whimper of far-off trumpets. He walked back to the table and sat down. Finally he went to the kitchen and got an apple from the stuff from Leathers’s store.
He bit into it, and the sound was loud in the empty room.
CHAPTER 20
THEY CAME DOWN the dusty street through the sunlit afternoon, a tight little cavalcade of riders expecting no trouble. They rode as tired men ride, lounging in their saddles, for there was dust on their horses and dust on their clothing and dust on their beards. It was only their guns that had no dust.
There was no humor in them, for they were men to whom killing was a natural business. The softer members of the Hale crew were gone. These were the salty pick of a hard-bitten, lawless bunch who rode for the highest bidder.
Lee Wright was in the lead, riding a blood bay. At his right and a little behind was Jeff Nebel, then Tandy Wade, who was wanted in Texas, Missouri, and the Indian Territory, and then there was Kurt Wilde. They were ten in all, ten tough, gun-belted men riding into Cedar when the sun was high.
Dunn and Ravitz had not returned to the Castle, and what that meant they did not know, nor did they care. They had been sent to get a woman, and if Dunn and Ravitz had decided to keep her for themselves, they would take her away. If those two had failed and Brigo remained, they would take her from him. They had their orders and they knew what to do.
Near Leathers’s store the group broke and three men rode on down to the Palace and dismounted at the door. Lee Wright, big, hard-faced, and cruel, was in the lead. With him were Wade and Wilde.
Kilkenny had seen them come, and he waited. As they stepped up on the walk, he took down the bar and opened the door. It was safer with the door closed, but he wanted to cut the odds down at the start, and he needed shooting room.
“What d’ you want, Wright?”
“Who is it?” The shadows under the awning and the darkness of the doorway blurred his vision after the bright sunlight of the street.
“It’s Kilkenny.”
“Kilkenny! I don’t believe it. Where’d you come from?”
“Been here all the time, Wright. Only, they call me Trent.”
“Well, I’ll be damned! Well, you got a chance to ride out of here with your reputation intact, Kilkenny. We just want that woman.”
“But she’s my woman, Wright,” Kilkenny said softly. The three were spreading out a little. He had seen it so often before. “That makes a difference, doesn’t it?”
They were wary. They had a job to do, but he was not part of it unless he made it so, but apparently he was doing just that. Yet they were tough men, worried less about him and his reputation than about who else might also be here. Nobody likes to walk into a stacked deck, and Brigo should be around somewhere. Also, if Kilkenny was here, there might be others.
Their lack of knowledge was half his strength.
“We were expecting you,” he said. He was standing back from the doorframe, quite in the dark interior. He could see them, but they could see nothing of him, at best a dim outline. “I was wanting to tell you boys that I’d light a shuck, if I were you. The Hales are finished here.”
“Do tell?” Wright was straining his eyes to see. “We come after that woman. We’ll get her.”
“Sorry, boys, but she’s not even here. She’s been gone for hours. As for taking her, you’d come after her with only ten men? Ever try to take a place like this with no more men than you’ve got?
“Anyway, who is going to pay you? I won most of Hale’s money. By the time he paid off the miners, he was broke. You boys are working for nothing.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Don’t try it, boys. The Hatfields like to use those rifles of theirs, and you fellows are sitting ducks out there in the bright light.”
“You’re runnin’ a bluff!” Wade said. “You’re alone.”
“Where are they, then? You—”
There was a tinkle of glass from a window, and a rifle muzzle showed itself. Wright turned to look, and Kilkenny saw him swear soundlessly.
It could mean but one thing. Brigo had gotten out of bed and thrust a rifle out the window at the right moment. But how long could he stand there?
“Why fight for nothing? You try to take this place, and some of you will die and the rest won’t get any payoff.”
Kurt Wilde had been sitting quietly. Now suddenly he exploded with impatience. “The hell with this! Let’s go in there!” He jumped his horse to one side and went for his gun.
Kilkenny palmed his gun and fired, the first shot clipping the bridle on the rearing horse, the second taking Wilde through the shoulder and knocking him into the street.
Brigo fired at almost the same instant, and Tandy Wade’s horse caught the bullet meant for him and went down. Wade leaped free, and he and Wright sprinted for shelter.
Kilkenny slammed the door and dropped the bar in place and then sprinted for Brigo. The Yaqui’s face was deathly pale, and the movement had started his wounds bleeding again.
“Lie down, dammit!” Kilkenny said. “You did your part. You fooled ’em. Now, lie down!”
“No, señor. Not when you fight.”
“I can hold ’em now. Rest until I need you. If they rush the place, I’ll need help.”
Brigo hesitated, then let himself be taken back to the bed. He sank weakly down, and Kilkenny lifted his feet up. From where he lay he could see through a crack of the window without moving. Kilkenny dropped a rifle and a box of shells on the bed. Then he went back and made a round of the windows, peering from each.
Wilde was getting up. Kilkenny watched him, letting him go. Suddenly the man wheeled and blasted at the door. Brigo, lying on his bed, shot him through the chest.
“One down,” Kilkenny told himself, “and nine to go!”
He had no illusions. These men were too old at the business to be fooled for long. Sooner or later they would rush the place, making a feint from one direction and charging from another. They had men enough, and he had too large an area to defend and there was no way he could watch it all. They could even come over the roofs and swing into the upper windows.
Kilkenny was looking toward Leathers’s store when he saw a man slip around the corner of the building and dart for the door. He fired quickly. Once . . . twice.
The first shot hit the man about waist-high, but on the outside, near his holster. He staggered, and Kilkenny’s second shot brought him down.
Kilkenny stood up and moved away just as a rifle bullet struck right where he had been an instant before. Had he remained in position, he would now be dead or dying.
No chance to get Brigo to the buckboard. Not by daylight and probably not by night.
They came with a rush, finally.
It had been quiet, and then a sudden volley blasted the back of the saloon. Taking a chance, Kilkenny ran to the front and was just in time to see a half-dozen men charging the front of the Palace.
His first
shot was dead center and knocked a Hale man rolling. His guns were roaring then, and he smelled the hot, acrid fumes of gunpowder, felt a red-hot whip laid across his cheek as a bullet grazed him.
He thrust a gun into its holster empty and drew the spare from his waistband.
They disappeared then, and he saw that two men were down. He recognized neither of them. He thrust the gun back into his waistband, and drawing the empty gun, fed shells into the loading gate. Then he checked his second gun, from which two rounds had been fired.
His cheek was burning like fire, and when he touched it, his hand came away bloody. He wiped the hand on a curtain and brought the shotgun up to the door, stuffing his pocket full of shells.
He waited. It was hot, and the waiting was what got to a man. He did not want to wait. He wanted to go get them. Three, possibly four of their men had been hurt or killed.
There was no firing now. Obviously they were doing some hard thinking. The shotgun was his payoff weapon, and knowing what it would do to a man at close range, he hesitated to use it.
He could hear voices raised in argument from Leathers’s store. With three men hit and possibly four, they were undoubtedly having second thoughts. Suddenly he had an idea.
“Lie still and watch,” Kilkenny said suddenly. “I’m going out.”
“Out? You going after them?”
“Sí . . . with this.” He showed him the double-barreled shotgun. “They are all in the store. I’m going to settle this, once and for all.”
He went to the door. For several minutes he studied what lay outside and listened to the violent argument next door. Price Dixon would be arriving soon, and the Hale men undoubtedly knew he had joined Kilkenny and the Hatfields. He would be riding right into a trap from which there was no possible escape, unless he, Kilkenny, sprang the trap first. If Jaime Brigo was to live, he needed Dixon’s attention, so both men’s lives were at stake.
The Kilkenny Series Bundle Page 49
