Hard Texas Trail

by Matt Chisholm

  It would be all right now, he thought weakly. Clay was here. He lifted a hand in a wave. Clay quickened his pace, reached the rocks, halted and stepped down from the saddle. George could see from the way he moved that he was a pretty sick man.

  He didn’t know how to face Clay with the girl being gone, but it had to be done.

  Clay came up through the rocks and he looked as if he had aged ten years. Maybe George didn’t look so good either, because his brother took one look at him and said: ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Sarah,’ George said. ‘She’s gone.’

  Clay came and gripped him by his arms.

  ‘What do you mean, gone?’ he demanded.

  ‘They jumped us. Jody’s hit.’

  Clay stepped back from him, his face set, his eyes terrible. He walked to the cave and looked down at Jody.

  ‘We didn’t do too good, hermano? Jody said.

  Clay squatted.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he said.

  They told him.

  It seemed that Clay didn’t have any doubts about what he was going to do.

  ‘Jody,’ he said, ‘you brace up and clean up George’s wound. I’ll need you two boys pretty soon huntin’ cows. I’m goin’ after Sarah.’

  George said: ‘Hell, Clay, you ain’t fit -’

  Clay snarled; ‘Shut your face an’ do like I say.’

  He couldn’t make out why Blessed hadn’t killed Sarah. Could the girl have lied to him? Was it possible that the man didn’t want to kill her and was indeed her husband? But what possible reason could she have for telling him such a lie? He walked away, fetched a rope from his horse and caught up one of the loose horses. Blessed’s horse would be tired. He might have a chance. He switched his saddle to the fresh horse and mounted When he looked back, George was watching him from the rocks. He lifted a hand and his younger brother responded.

  Clay’s main problem was to follow a trail faster than the man who made it and that was always almost impossible. Another problem was that he was very weak and he didn’t know how long he could remain in the saddle. Gnawing at his mind was the possibility of Blessed killing Sarah before he could come up with them. The thought was a constant torture.

  He picked up the sign from the north side of the rocks and followed it into the deep brush. He stayed with it a mile or two before he realized that he was looking at the sign of a man who didn’t know where he was going. Maybe he had a destination in his mind, but he didn’t have any idea of getting there. It was not possible, therefore, for Clay to anticipate him and to get ahead of him by a short cut. He had to stick with the sign and move along as fast as he could.

  After several miles of fighting his way through bad brush, he came on a trail that had been used only once since the rain and here the sign of the horse he was following was plain to follow. It was now that Clay realized that Blessed’s horse was not only carrying double, but was tired. His hopes rose a little and he quickened his pace.

  Once again, the terrible thought that Sarah might already be dead struck him. But there didn’t seem any sense in Blessed toting her dead body and he put the thought down to his general weakness. One thing he saw clearly and that this was the most crucial time of his life. His whole future depended upon his saving the girl. His whole being was now tied up with her. But how he could get her away safely from Blessed evaded him. Try as he did, he couldn’t fathom how he could pull it off.

  Maybe, he thought, he could make a deal with the man. If what Sarah said was true and all he was after was money, a deal might be possible.

  Suddenly, it dawned on Clay that Blessed was starting to circle. He had been foolish enough to leave the narrow trail and take to the brush again. Here it was possible, for the thickets were now scattered out. Blessed had thought that he knew better than the men who had made the trails. Blessed, like all green hands in brush and desert, had begun to circle back to the point he had started out from.

  Clay halted and thought, wondering if he could take the chance.

  He decided. He turned and went back the way he had come, hit the trail and took cover in the brush.

  He knew that he could be making a fatal mistake. On the other hand he might have moved himself into a position from which he could win the hand.

  But time passed and he began to get nervous. An hour or more went by and he heard no sound of an approaching horse. He dismounted, walked his own animal deep into the brush and tied it. He had no sooner done so than the animal whickered softly and looked toward the south. Clay drew his rifle from the boot and pushed his way back toward the trail.

  Almost at once, he heard the sound of the approaching horse.

  He stayed under cover and watched the trail. Within minutes a tired horse plodded into sight. Sarah was in the saddle. She looked terrible. She was slumped forward and her hair had fallen forward over her face. He knew that the rough mode of travel, the closeness of the brasada air and the tension of her situation had told on her. Over her shoulder, he could see the bearded face of Blessed.

  His inclination was to raise his rifle and shoot the man there and then in cold blood. But with Sarah in front of him the risk was too great.

  He drew back deeper into cover and allowed the horse to draw abreast of him.

  Blessed looked tired to the bone. The man’s face had a depressed and desperate look to it. Clay knew only a kind of wild joy that Sarah was still alive.

  He waited until Blessed’s back was squarely to him, then he called out -

  ‘Hold it.’

  Blessed halted at once.

  The girl screamed: ‘Clay.’ Her face appeared, wan and dirty around Blessed’s bulk.

  Clay said: ‘You make a move, Blessed, an’ I’ll blow your head off.’

  Quite calmly, Blessed said: ‘You could hit the girl.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Clay said just as calmly. ‘Sarah, get down.’

  Blessed must have tried to prevent her from moving. There was a sudden burst of movement on the back of the horse, then the girl landed in the dirt on all fours, scrambled to her feet and ran toward Clay.

  Clay called out: ‘Get off to one side, Sarah.’

  She stopped and obeyed him.

  Blessed didn’t move. Clay knew that mind was working, thinking of a way out.

  ‘Get down,’ Clay said. ‘Keep in sight, don’t let the horse come between us. One wrong move an’ you’re dead.’

  Blessed shifted the horse so that it was broadside on to Clay and slowly stepped down from the saddle. He faced Clay and he was smiling. The depression and the desperation seemed to have left him.

  ‘I was never more pleased to see anyone in my life, Mr. Storm,’ he said with gentle tranquility. ‘I must confess to being totally lost. Now, you are here, you can guide us to San Antonio.’

  Clay was lost in a kind of hating admiration for the man.

  ‘You can ease your gun out and throw it down,’ he said. ‘Do it carefully. I’m liable to shoot you for blinkin’.’

  ‘Before that,’ Blessed said, ‘let’s talk.’

  ‘No talk,’ Clay said.

  ‘Come, come, Mr. Storm,’ Blessed persisted. ‘No situation is so bad that it can’t be settled by talk. I would have settled it that way long ago if you hadn’t resorted to violence.’

  ‘Your gun,’ said Clay.

  ‘Just hear me out,’ Blessed went on, ‘and I will happily dispense with every firearm that I possess. Now the situation is that you want Sarah and we want her money. I would suggest that we compromise, allowing you the main percentage as you hold the gun. I can’t be fairer than that, can I? You’re a reasonable man. You take Sarah and we take half the money. We’ll agree to cut our losses.’

  ‘The gun,’ Clay said, ‘or I shoot you in the leg.’

  Blessed shrugged.

  ‘I misjudged you,’ he said. ‘It was always a weakness of mine to think man a reasonable animal.’

  Blessed’s horse shifted.

  Blessed moved.

 
He moved with a speed incredible for a man of his build. One moment he was in full view, the next he was under the horse’s belly and on its far side.

  Clay’s reaction was slow. Even as he acted, he knew that he was slow.

  Blessed’s shot came as Clay fired.

  The bullet whisked past Clay’s head.

  Clay fired under the horse’s belly. The animal whinnied in terror and jumped forward, exposing Blessed crouched forward, gun in hand.

  Clay levered the rifle as Blessed let off his second shot.

  Sarah screamed.

  Suddenly, Blessed was flurried. His shot went wide. As he cocked the hammer for another shot, Clay triggered.

  The heavy bullet, at close range, knocked Blessed backward off his feet. His face showed an immense surprise. He landed on his back and fired again.

  If he made a hit, in the heat of the moment, Clay felt nothing. He levered and fired, levered and fired. Blessed’s head went back and hit the dust of the trail. His body jerked and jerked again. Clay saw where the last bullet struck the head.

  He knew then that it was over.

  Blessed kicked a couple of times, then lay still.

  Clay and the girl stayed where they were, unable to move, immobilized by the sight, unable to believe that the tension was over.

  Then she came slowly to him and he put an arm around her. She sobbed tearlessly against his chest. She seemed very small and defenseless against him.

  ‘You set,’ he said. He pushed her away from him and she sat, shaking. He walked up to Blessed and looked down at him. The pale clear eyes stared back at him blankly.

  Clay debated whether to bury the man. Jody and George needed him back there. He owed more to the living than the dead. He had nothing to dig a grave with but his knife. He decided to leave him. He dragged the body off the trail, then caught up Blessed’s horse and fetched his own. He helped Sarah into the saddle and mounted himself. They headed back for the cave.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Clay never liked San Antonio. He never liked any town for that matter. The noise and the bustle confused him. But this morning, he seemed to see it with new eyes. He saw the whole world with new eyes.

  He and Sarah had reached it that morning with the intention of seeing a lawyer. That they had both agreed on. But as, they walked along the street with Sarah on Clay’s arm, Sarah looking like a million dollars in a new dress, saucy hat over one eye, recovered and radiant, Clay said suddenly: ‘Before the lawyer, we have to see the judge.’

  ‘Judge,’ said Sarah, ‘what do we want to see a judge about?’

  ‘You have to have a judge,’ Clay said, ‘to get married.’

  Sarah stopped in her tracks and stared at him, her eyes wide.

  ‘Married?’ she cried. ‘Now?’

  ‘Any objections?’

  ‘I didn’t know you Texans could move so fast.’

  ‘You’re learnin’.’

  They found the judge. They were married. They stood on the sidewalk, man and wife, neither of them fully able to believe it. Sarah said she thought his mother and father would raise Cain. Clay said one look at her and they’d be proud. They walked together to the lawyer. His name was James M. Cameron and he knew Clay’s father. He wanted to know their business, asked after Will Storm and Clay told him he wanted his presence at a transaction for no more than a hour. Mr. Cameron told him that he was a busy man and couldn’t leave his office for that long. Clay said he would pay whatever was wanted. That altered Mr. Cameron’s tune.

  ‘Bring pen, ink and paper with you,’ Clay said, ‘you’re goin’ to draw up an agreement.’

  Sarah wanted to know what agreement. Clay said if she stayed with him she’d see.

  ‘I’m goin’ to end the shootin’,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to be a widower before my time. You said you’d give up your fortune.’

  ‘I know I said that.’

  ‘Then come on.’

  Sarah was getting a little mad, but she had to admit that she admired the way Clay was being masterful.

  The three of them walked along the street until they came to a hotel called the American House. Clay led the way into the lobby. There was a clerk with a shining cowlick behind the desk.

  ‘Which is Lincoln Hurley’s room?’ Clay asked.

  ‘Number Two right above here,’ the clerk said.

  Sarah’s grip on Clay’s arm tightened and she looked scared.

  ‘No, Clay,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to see him.’

  ‘You have to be there to sign,’ Clay said. ‘Stay with me, honey. It won’t take long and it’ll be painless. I promise you.’

  He went up the stairs and the girl and the lawyer followed him.

  Lincoln Hurley was sitting propped up in bed when they entered. Clay thought the expression on his face when he caught sight of them was well worth seeing. It was worth several days’ riding. His first action was not unexpected. He reached under his pillow and drew forth a pistol of business-like proportions and presented it at Clay’s breast.

  Sarah drew her breath in sharply and looked at Hurley with fear and loathing.

  Mr. Cameron slammed the door behind him and exclaimed: ‘Well, I’ll declare! ‘

  Clay said: ‘You can put the gun away, Hurley. None of us have one.’ He opened his coat to show that he was unarmed.

  Hurley looked doubtful.

  ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

  ‘To give you one hundred thousand dollars,’ Clay told him.

  For a moment, it looked as if Hurley, in spite of the splintered leg that lay on the bed top, would spring to his feet in surprise and disbelief.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ he demanded.

  Sarah was making puzzled sounds.

  Clay said: ‘Put that fool gun down.’

  Hurley laid the gun down on the bed beside him, but it wasn’t far from his hand. His eyes snapped with suspicion. He looked at Sarah with a hatred that would have looked better on her directed at him.

  Clay said: ‘Hurley, you tried to kill Sarah for two hundred thousand dollars. Don’t try an’ deny it, it won’t do you any good.’

  The lawyer fluttered in alarm.

  ‘What in heaven’s name’re you saying, Clay?’ he demanded.

  ‘Don’t you fret yourself, Mr. Cameron,’ Clay told him. ‘Sit down at the table there and be ready to write.’

  The lawyer gazed at him in some awe and did as he was ordered.

  ‘Of course, I deny it,’ Hurley said.

  ‘Just the same, it’s true. When Sarah was dead, you planned to split her fortune with Blessed. He’s dead.’

  It was Hurley’s turn to look alarmed. And incredulous.

  ‘You’re lying,’ he said.

  ‘He’s dead all right. Do you think I’d be offering you one hundred thousand dollars if he was alive?’

  Hurley looked from Clay to the girl and from her to Cameron. There must be some trick in this somewhere. His cool aloofness had been shaken from him.

  ‘I’m buying you off,’ Clay said, ‘so Sarah will be safe. For my part, I’d rather see you dead. Then I wouldn’t have no doubt you’d behave yourself. In case you should get any ideas, Sarah an’ I are now married. If you want more money, you’ll have to kill me too.’

  ‘Give him all the money,’ Sarah said. ‘I don’t want it. Not now.’

  Clay grinned.

  ‘I may be a stupid hick,’ he said, ‘but a man who marries one hundred thousand dollars one minute and throws it away the next wants his head tested. Make up your mind fast, Hurley. I’m liable to change my mind.’

  Hastily Hurley said: ‘I accept. But I disclaim I ever threatened Sarah’s life.’

  Clay said: ‘Mr. Cameron, draw up an agreement giving half of my wife’s fortune to this man.’

  Cameron said: ‘Certainly, Clay. Right away.’ He was now showing Clay one hundred thousand dollars worth of respect. Clay took Sarah’s arm and walked to the door. He turned and said: ‘You come after us again, Hurley, an’ y
ou’re a dead man.’

  They walked out and went down to the street. On the sidewalk Sarah said: ‘I really don’t want the money, Clay. All I want is you.’

  ‘An’ a very fine sentiment too,’ Clay said approvingly. ‘You’re a fine girl with the right ideas. I have a pretty good idea myself.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘We come a long way an’ I’m kinda tired. There’s a hotel right across the street there. My vote says we book in and go take a rest.’

  ‘It’s not noon yet.’

  ‘We’re married.’

  She flushed and giggled. He thought he’d never heard a prettier or more promising giggle in his life.

  ‘But only just.’

  ‘You’ll never think us Texas men slow again. ‘

  She hugged his arm and they laughed. Laughing, they crossed the street.

  If you liked this then read

  STAMPEDE!

  First in the Storm Family Saga

  The Storm Family will return in

  RIDERS WEST

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