by J. T. Edson
‘Well?’ Maudlin growled, turning his gaze to the trio.
‘You give us that money and you won’t see us for heel-dust!’ Waltham stated, having glanced at the other two and received nods of agreement.
‘There’s one thing,’ Lindrick said quietly, swinging towards the three men. ‘Once you’ve taken the money and gone, don’t ever forget that it was me with you. If I hear just a hint of anything different, I’ll find and kill every one of you without bothering to find out who’s responsible.’
‘Yeah, but—!’ Waltham put in, throwing a meaningful and worried look at their employer.
‘Don’t be any more stupid than you have to!’ Lindrick spat out. ‘Mr. Maudlin can’t change the story, even if he wanted to get rid of you that way, without ruining what we’re doing it for and putting his son’s neck in a noose. Go pack your gear while we write out the documents. Then, as soon as you’ve signed and been paid, you want to put all the miles you can between yourself and Lampasas County.’
‘Whatever you say, Den,’ grunted Shabber and turned away.
‘Sure,’ Waltham agreed, swinging around to open the door.
For a moment, although he did not offer to meet his employer’s or Lindrick’s eyes, Czonka hesitated. Then, realizing he would have to raise the objections he was contemplating without the support of his two companions, he slouched out of the room after them.
Snarling a command for his son to go to bed and stay out of his sight, Maudlin watched him leave the room. Then he turned to where Lindrick was drawing up a chair at the table. Producing paper, pens and ink at the boss gun’s request, he waited until a copy of the ‘confession’ had been prepared and helped to produce two more.
‘Can we trust them even after they’ve signed these?’ the rancher inquired, when the task was completed.
‘I’d say “yes”,’ Lindrick replied. ‘They know that it’s the only way they can get enough money to save their hides, because Texas is going to be too hot to hold them when the story gets out.’
‘Wait I don’t understand is why you’re doing this,’ Maudlin declared.
‘For money, of course,’ Lindrick admitted in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘I’ll want fifteen hundred dollars on top of the rest you’re paying me for helping you deal with the Wensburys. For that, I’ll give you my word—and I’ve never broken it—that neither you nor young Leroy will ever see or hear from me again.’
‘Young Leroy?’
‘You don’t think he’ll be content to let things go, no matter what anybody else does, do you?’
‘I hadn’t thought about him.’
‘I have,’ Lindrick stated. ‘He’s going to be looking for the men who killed his parents. And that’s one damned good reason why I don’t aim to stick around.’
‘Surely you’re faster with a gun than he is?’ Maudlin asked.
‘I don’t know that I am and haven’t any wish to find out,’ Lindrick answered. ‘One thing I’m sure of, there’s not enough difference for either of us to be on our feet if we go up against each other. And another thing is that it sticks in my craw to think how—and why—his parents died. I’m willing to take your money to save that stupid son-of-a-bitch you sired from getting what he deserves, but I won’t do anything more that might bring harm or trouble to young Leroy.’
‘I deserve that and worse,’ Maudlin conceded. ‘You might not believe this, Mr. Lindrick, but I’d rather have lost the fight than won if it meant the Leroys were still alive. But it’s happened and, worthless as he is, Japhet’s my own flesh and blood. So I’ll do anything I can to save him. There’s two thousand over your pay for what you’ve done and, no matter what you do in the future, I wish you the best in it.’
‘And I reciprocate it,’ Lindrick said soberly. ‘You’ve earned my respect in the way you’re handling this matter. Many a man in your position would have suggested we killed Czonka, Shabber and Waltham instead of paying them off.’
‘Would that have bothered you?’ Maudlin asked.
‘Yes,’ Lindrick replied. ‘Useless as they are, I’d hired them and they’d served you. So I wouldn’t have stood for you turning on them to suit your own ends. If you’d suggested doing it, I’d not only have refused, but I’d have pulled out and left you to deal with young Leroy any way you could.’
In one respect, it was a pity that Czonka did not hear the final part of the conversation. Having taken the precaution of not unpacking more than the essentials of his belongings, he had completed the gathering of them very quickly. Being of a suspicious nature, he had slipped from the bunkhouse and returned to the main building. Crouching outside the sitting-room window, he had just been in time to hear the comments about the possibility of Doc Leroy wanting to avenge the killings when another of the crew approaching caused him to move away. The idea which had started to form in his mind might have been forgotten if he had been allowed to eavesdrop for a short while longer.
Haggard and inwardly boiling with grief, Doc Leroy walked from his parents’ home in the cold grey light of the most terrible morning he had ever known. He looked to where Dirk Damon and several men were standing with rifles or shotguns in their hands. Then he turned his gaze to Rusty Willis. Resting his hands on the porch’s rail, the cowhand’s normally cheerful face showed how deeply he had been affected by the news that he had brought into town.
On his return from the picnic the previous night, Doc had been told of his parents’ departure. Before leaving, his father had left instructions for him to go and make preparations for the work which was likely to be coming in as a result of the fighting. Shortly after one in the morning, the first of the casualties had arrived. Dealing with the three wounded Circle W men, one of whom was seriously wounded, had kept the youngster fully occupied and prevented him from wondering why his mother and father were taking so long. In fact, Rusty had delivered the message from Taylor Maudlin before Doc could ask for somebody to ride out to the Widow Simcock’s place and investigate.
Having grown to like and admire the young cowhand, Lindrick had not allowed him to participate in the fighting along Owl Creek. Nor had Rusty particularly wished to do so. Ever since the ambush, he had grown increasingly aware that the feud between the two ranches had gone far beyond acceptable rivalry. He had also become deeply perturbed by the thought that he might find himself compelled to fire on and possibly kill men among whom he had grown up and shared happy hours in the days not too long gone by. So he had not raised any objections when told to stay with the party assigned to help guard the Lazy M’s buildings and his employer’s womenfolk.
As an aid to the deception he was planning, the first thing Lindrick had done on his return was to send Rusty with the cook and chuck wagon to collect the two dead and three men wounded. When the youngster had come back, he was asked to go into the ranch house. In the sitting-room, looking as shaken as he felt over the disastrous turn of events, Maudlin had told Rusty the story which had been arranged by the boss gun. He had also asked the youngster to deliver the news, along with letters of explanation, to Doc and Dirk Damon.
Furious at learning that Maudlin had been ‘forced’ to let the four hired guns ‘escape’, Rusty never thought to doubt he was being told the truth. Nor did he hesitate over carrying out the far from pleasant task of telling Doc the dreadful news. Riding hard, he was horrified to discover in passing through the Widow Simcock’s property, that nobody from the town had found the bodies. It had taken all his courage to go on. Nor could he decide how he might break such tiding to Doc. His final solution was one which he would never have used in less trying circumstances. Visiting Reverend Gazem, he asked for help. A practical man of religion, born and raised in the West, the Reverend had appreciated the youngster’s dilemma and accompanied him to the Leroys’ home. For all that, it was Rusty who told his friend what had happened.
Never had Doc’s medical training, which had given him a deeper insight into life and death than most people ever acquired, stood him in such good stead. Shocke
d as he was by the news, he refused to let himself become prostrated by grief. Holding his churning emotions in check, he forced himself to read the letter which Rusty had given to him.
Maudlin had written expressing his sympathy and horror at what had happened, explained how he had been ‘told’ the incident had taken place and, without trying to avoid at least part of the responsibility, had hoped that Doc would go to the Lazy M ranch house to treat the wounded men. On learning that they were cowhands who he knew as friends, the youngster had decided to do so. However, at the Reverend’s insistence, he had waited until his parents’ bodies had been collected and brought home. He had just finished making the arrangements for their funerals and was ready to set out for the Lazy M.
‘Everything points to it happening as Maudlin was told,’ Damon announced, having received similar information from the rancher. ‘Except that I can’t believe your father would behave as Lindrick claimed.’
‘So Lindrick was there!’ Doc said, half to himself, walking to where his horse was saddled and waiting.
‘We found his hat in the barn,’ Damon admitted, for he too had been puzzled by the boss gun having been blamed. It had not struck him as the kind of thing Lindrick would do. ‘Anyways, we’re going with you to see Maudlin.’
‘No you’re not!’ Doc contradicted firmly, starting to fasten his father’s medical bag to the horse’s saddlehorn. ‘That would be asking for trouble. And, if you all come, there’ll be nobody left to make sure the town stays peaceable.’
‘You’re right on both counts,’ Damon conceded. ‘But you’re not going alone. Nobody’s taken my country sheriff’s badge away from me, so I’m putting it on and riding with you. Joe Harrigan’s acting as town marshal while I’m away and he’ll take care of things here.’
‘I’m coming too,’ Rusty declared. ‘I’m quitting the Lazy M and have to fetch my gear. So I might’s well do it n—’
At that moment, a rider appeared from between two of the buildings along the opposite side of the street. Revolver in hand, he sent his horse racing towards the group of men.
One glance, even as startled yells rose from the crowd, warned Doc of his peril. Recognizing Lazio Czonka, one of the men named as being responsible for his parents’ death, he could guess that his own life was endangered.
And it was!
Remembering what he had overheard about the possibility of Doc seeking vengeance, Czonka had also been mindful of the youngster’s deadly ability with a gun. So he had parted company with his companions and made for Lampasas with the intention of removing the menace. It had been his hope that he would find his would-be victim alone and in such a state of grief as to be unable to resist. Instead, from all appearances, the youngster was preparing to ride with a posse and there could only be one reason for it having been formed. They were almost certain to be going out to hunt down the quartet.
Deciding that the best way to handle the situation was throw a scare into the townsmen and kill the youngster, Czonka was charging into the attack.
Taken unawares, all but one person in the crowd were too amazed to respond.
Hurling himself away from the others and towards the center of the street, Doc drew all of Czonka’s attention to himself. Flame gushed from the revolver in the hired gun’s fist even as Doc’s Colt was clearing leather. Passing lead caused the air to fan against the youngster’s cheek. Instead of halting and presenting his assailant with a stationary target, he made a rolling dive onwards. As it ended, his own weapon slanted upwards and bellowed. He missed his intended mark, but his purpose was still served.
Hit in the head, Czonka’s horse started to collapse beneath him. Throwing himself clear, he contrived to alight on his feet—for all the good it did him.
Five times, as swiftly as he could work the hammer and control the recoil, Doc sent bullets into the hired gun’s chest. Czonka was driven backwards by the impacts. With his body torn to doll rags, he crashed lifeless on to the wheel-rutted surface of the street.
Fifteen – Kill Me and You’ve Killed Him, Too
Japhet Maudlin should never have been on the porch of the ranch house when Doc Leroy arrived at the Lazy M ranch house accompanied by Rusty Willis and Dirk Damon.
Although Japhet had obeyed his father’s order and retired to his room, sleep refused to come and he had spent several restless hours brooding over his situation. In spite of feeling sure that his father would shield him from the consequences of his part in the killing of Doctor and Mrs. Leroy, he was in a state of apprehension. Memories of how fast and deadly with a gun he knew his victims’ son to be kept haunting him. By the time his father had come in and told him of the arrangements that had been made for his salvation, his hatred of Doc Leroy had increased to the point where he had not cared about anything else. Certainly he had been devoid of gratitude for the reprieve his father’s money had purchased for him.
Such was Japhet’s nature that he had come to consider himself innocent of any part in the killings. However, at the back of his mind had lurked a warning that something might go wrong. If that happened, Doc Leroy would learn the truth and want revenge. Japhet was all too aware of just how little chance he would have in a fair fight, either with guns or bare-handed, against the pallid-faced son of his victims. Far from intelligent, he had drawn a conclusion. Leroy must be killed before learning the truth. The main problem had been how to bring such a desirable result about. Hearing that the other had been asked to visit the ranch suggested that an opportunity to do so might be arranged.
It had seemed to Japhet that luck was favoring him.
~*~
Shortly after dawn, the San Saba lawyer had arrived with a request that Taylor Maudlin should go to meet and make peace with Mrs. Wensbury. Remembering the advice given by Hayden Paul Lindrick on the benefit of showing willingness to bring about a cessation of hostility, the rancher had agreed that he, his wife and sister would go. Doing so had left Frank, the oldest brother, in command at the ranch, and he was unaware of Japhet’s participation in the killings in the Widow Simcock’s barn.
Knowing his brother to be quick tempered and protective where he was concerned, Japhet had felt sure that some solution to his problem could be arranged. Nor did the fact that Doc had two men with him cause him to revise his plans. As far as he knew, Rusty was still a loyal Lazy M hand. Failing to notice that Damon was wearing the sheriff’s five-pointed star and not the shield-shaped badge of the town marshal, he felt he could dismiss the peace officer as a relevant factor. Everybody present remembered how Damon had disarmed Lindrick’s party on the night of the ambush and, although he had put the men responsible for it in jail, he had accepted the pack of lies they had told and set them free. So they would not harbor friendly feelings where he was concerned.
‘It’s about time you got here!’ Japhet barked, striding down the porch’s steps to where, having dismounted, his would-be victim was about to unstrap the medical bag. ‘I suppose you’ve been too busy tending to them stinking Wensburys to care if our boys lived or died.’
Leaving the bag, Doc swung towards the speaker. Cold anger boiled through him, but he managed to hold it in check. One factor leapt to his notice. Although Frank Maudlin and the half a dozen hard faced men who were gathering around had on their gunbelts, Japhet was unarmed.
‘Where are they, Frank?’ Doc asked, looking towards the older brother.
‘I’m talking to you!’ Japhet yelled, leaping forward to catch hold of the visitor’s arm. ‘Don’t come the high-toned doctor with—’
Feeling the other’s touch, all the flood-gates of Doc’s pent-up emotions erupted. Swinging around and snatching his arm free, he caught the front of Japhet’s shirt with both hands. Fury gave an added strength to his wiry body and, with a surging heave, he flung his antagonist away from him.
Taken completely unprepared, Japhet was sent reeling on uncontrollable legs. Catching one against the other, he tripped. Before he, or anybody else, could make a move to prevent it, he plunged
head first and with a sickening impact against the upright support of the porch. Bouncing from it, he collapsed to sprawl limp and motionless on the wooden steps.
‘What the—?’ Damon began, his right hand moving towards the butt of the Adams.
‘Stand still, Dirk!’ Frank Maudlin advised, jerking a thumb to where two men were lining rifles from the front windows of the ranch house. ‘You’re covered!’
‘Hey!’ Rusty yelled, glaring around. ‘What the hell’s this?’
‘You keep your hand clear as well, cow nurse!’ ordered one of the hired guns, drawing his revolver and lining at the red-haired youngster. ‘You’re a whole heap too friendly with these two to be trusted.’
Having delivered his warning and seen it obeyed, Frank hurried towards his brother. Kneeling, he looked down for a moment. Then he swung an angry face towards the author of Japhet’s misfortunes.
‘Get over here and take a look at him!’ Frank snarled.
‘Go to hell!’ Doc answered flatly, but conscious that one of the rifles was pointing straight at his head.
Thrusting erect, Frank jerked the Colt from his holster. Although he was unaware of the true facts, he had heard about Doc’s parents having been killed. So he had taken precautions in case the youngster arrived at the ranch seeking revenge rather than to render aid to the wounded. Instead of considering the way in which his brother had behaved, he was drawing entirely the wrong conclusions from the situation.
Like Doc, Frank was suffering under a great strain. Up until the previous evening, he had never realized the full implications of a feud. Badly shaken by the killings and injuries that had taken place, he still was not thinking with anything close to his usual sensibility. There was, however, more behind his reaction than that.
