Blood on Mcallister

by Matt Chisholm

  He and the girl made their way out of the office and along the street through the crowd. Their going aroused plenty of comment; heads turned to watch them go. There wasn’t a man there who didn’t envy McAllister. They reached the saloon and found the two wounded men still there, watched over by a few friends. Brenell had his eyes open now. As McAllister walked past him, he called: ‘McAllister.’

  McAllister stopped.

  Brenell said: ‘You ain’t heard the last of this. You signed away your life when you cut down a Brenell. When my old man hears about this he’s goin’ to come after you with everything he’s got.’

  McAllister smiled.

  ‘Ever tried killin’ your own snakes, Brenell?’ he asked.

  He got a look of pure hatred back in return. ‘I promised you a gut-shootin’. That’s what you’ll git. You’re goin’ to squirm in the dust at my feet.’

  McAllister went on without another word. Rosa led him along a narrow passageway and up some stairs. At the head of the stairs was a door which she opened. She led the way into a room that took McAllister’s breath away. It was the direct opposite to the rest of the building which was bare and stark, a man’s world. Here was a woman’s world, softness and luxury. He had heard of such places, but had never seen one. It stopped him dead in his tracks as if he had been struck in the face. His feet were deep in rich carpet. The whole room seemed all gold and crimson, a color that the Mexican Rosa loved. Two chairs covered with crimson velvet, their woodwork rich with gilt. The drapes that covered the windows were of the same rich color, the cover of the large bed. At one end was a toilet table with small bottles on it, backed by a gilt mirror. McAllister saw himself in this, dusty and bloody, beside him the beautiful woman. It was like looking at Beauty and the Beast.

  ‘Hell,’ he said, ‘why, Rosa, I can’t… it’s too … you know…’

  She smiled, delighted by the effect of the place on him.

  ‘You are the only man who has ever been here,’ she told him in Spanish.

  ‘But I can’t…’

  ‘Are you refusing? Try the bed. Sit on it.’

  He obeyed her. The bed was as soft as a dream. To a man who had slept so long on the hard ground, it was like a touch of heaven.

  ‘Now take your shirt off and let me look at that wound again.’

  He obeyed her with some difficulty because his side had stiffened. He gave no sign that the movement gave him pain. Together they inspected the wound. It had bled a little since the doctor had attended it in the saloon, but the bleeding had now stopped. She brought a bowl with carbolic and water in it and cleaned it tenderly. He watched with some amazement, for he could hardly believe that this was the tough woman he had known on other parts of the frontier. As she worked on him, close, he could smell her gentle scent, the natural scent of her body and it was like fresh prairie grass in the spring sun. Her velvet cheek was near his own as she stooped over him and he felt as if he had never been more conscious of a woman in his life. He moved his mouth an inch and kissed her cheek.

  She moved back from him, looking him in the eye.

  ‘Is that what you want?’ she asked softly.

  ‘I want what I’ve always wanted, girl,’ he said. ‘You’ve known what I wanted whenever I came near you.’

  ‘I have known.’

  He put both hands on her waist as she stood before him and looked up at her. He had never touched a woman like her. It seemed impossible that she who had refused him so often was now willing … was she willing? Don’t rush it, McAllister. This was no ordinary woman you could simply throw on a bed.

  ‘Rosa,’ he said, ‘I ain’t no good to any woman.’ He spoke in American and then dropped into Spanish again. ‘I shall be gone in a week. I’m not ready to be roped.’

  She regarded him solemnly.

  ‘That is understood,’ she said. ‘We are two people who know their minds. I have been always alone, I make my own way. But even a woman such as I occasionally need to be loved. And every time I have seen you… You are a man who may love a woman and go and leave her no worse for it. Is that not so?’

  He pulled her towards him, she leaned down and their lips met. Hers were soft like the petals of a flower and he had the sense to make his kiss of approach gentle, but even in that gentleness, passion flared suddenly in them both. He swung her around so that she lay on the bed beside him. She looked up at him and said: ‘This is not a good time. You are hurt and there is the competition.’ He saw the quirk of a smile at the corners of her mouth. He laughed and bent to kiss her again. She pulled her arms around his neck and pulled him down beside her.

  He heard the murmur of men’s voices and they seemed a whole world away.

  Carl Brenell rode into town with five men behind him. Immediately a man had ridden out fast from town to tell him that his son and a hand had been shot down in town he had called for a saddled horse and men to go with him. The man had brought the news to curry favor with the big man, but no sooner was his message delivered than his name was forgotten. In that moment, old man Brenell was conscious of nothing but his anger and anxiety. That anyone should have dared to draw a gun on a Brenell was almost beyond his understanding; that his only son could possibly be dying was something that struck his heart with terror. That the man who shot him could be in the right never entered his head.

  He reached town somewhere around dawn, pushing his horse to the limit of its endurance and not caring. There were few men on the streets now, but he found one hovering near the livery and headed for him.

  ‘You—where’s my son?’

  ‘Up at Rosa’s place, Mr. Brenell.’

  Brenell heaved his horse around and spurred it at an angle across the street, brought it to a running halt and piled from the saddle. His men followed his example and trooped into the saloon behind him, their spurs jangling and their faces grim.

  To Brenell’s amazement he found his son sitting at a table, drinking. He stopped short and stared, unable to believe his eyes. Then his eyes took in the fact that his son’s left leg was propped up on a chair. He shoved his fine white Stetson on the back of his head and said: ‘Christ, I thought you were near dead.’

  The boy looked sullen. He had been drinking on an empty stomach and he looked like it.

  ‘No thanks to McAllister. He cut down on me, pa. He caught me unawares, don’t you listen to what nobody says.’

  ‘McAllister? You mean that Goddam drifter?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘And Griff?’

  Clem jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where Griff was lying motionless on the bar. Brenell senior strode over to him and stared. Griff turned his head.

  ‘How bad, Griff?’

  ‘I’ll live. No thanks to the murderin’ devil ‘at did it.’

  Carl walked back into the center of the place. The few men there watched him, holding their breaths, knowing that there was going to be an explosion soon. They were a little scared. They wanted to see what was going to happen, but they didn’t want to get hurt.

  ‘By God,’ Carl said between his teeth, ‘somebody’s goin’ to pay for this. Where’s McAllister?’

  ‘He’s upstairs, Mr. Brenell,’ said a little man.

  Carl swung on him. ‘Upstairs?’

  ‘With Rosa.’

  ‘What?’

  Clem heaved himself around awkwardly in the chair and shouted: ‘You get him, pa. You get him for me. Gut-shoot him. I promised him that.’

  Carl pulled his gun from leather.

  ‘All right, boys, let’s go get him.’

  His men drew their guns. They all headed for the door at the rear of the place.

  Suddenly, they halted.

  A man stood in front of them. A solitary man holding a shotgun in his hands and the twin muzzles were presented at Carl’s chest.

  Brenell snarled: ‘Get out of my road, Krantz.’

  Mart kept his steady eyes on him.

  ‘Turn around, Carl,’ he said. ‘You ain’t goin’ n
owhere but out.’

  ‘I’m getting the man that shot down my boy in cold blood.’

  ‘Others tell it different. Your boy and the men with him drew on McAllister who merely defended himself. At last it looks like a Brenell met his comeuppance.’

  For a moment, it seemed that Brenell was too astonished to speak. Finally, he managed to shout: ‘I put you in office, Krantz, and I can yank you out of it. Stand aside or take the consequences.’

  ‘Nobody put me in office but the voters of this county. Now back up. Take your son and your rider with you. When they’re up an’ about, I’m arrestin’ ‘em for assault. An’ if you carry this any further I’ll take you for obstructing an officer in the performance of his duty.’

  One of the Double B riders said: ‘You’re out-numbered, Krantz. You don’t stand a chance.’

  Mart gave a wintry smile.

  ‘Try me,’ he said, ‘an’ I’ll spread you over the whole of this saloon.’

  They stayed silent for a moment, eyeing him, knowing he spoke the truth, for they knew the kind of man he was. Brenell was the first to move. He holstered his gun and shrugged.

  ‘It’s just a matter of time,’ he said. ‘I’ll get McAllister an’ I’ll get you, Krantz.’

  The sheriff didn’t say a word, the shotgun stayed where it was. Slowly, the other men holstered their weapons. Brenell turned away and from then on ignored the sheriffs presence. He gave orders for his men to fetch a wagon. They’d take their wounded back to the ranch. He’d know what action to take from hereon. The wagon was brought, the two wounded men carried out and placed in its bed. Brenell did not give the sheriff so much as a glance and Mart didn’t stir from his position while the Double B were there. He went out onto the sidewalk and watched them moving slowly out of town and knew he hadn’t heard the last of this. Well, maybe, it wasn’t so bad as it could be. There had to be a showdown some day. Brenell would move against Rigby soon or late and then the sparks would fly. Maybe Mart could nip it in the bud now.

  He turned back into the saloon and thought about McAllister. The young fool was going through with this crazy challenge and there didn’t seem any way out of it. The town had bet its money for a second time and there was no going back now. Mart wondered if McAllister could stand up to the test with the wound in his side. He doubted it. Without the fight with Clem Brenell and his men, the wound would have healed without trouble, but now… Mart shook his head. He went to the bar and demanded a drink from the sleepy barman, got it, tossed it off and reckoned he’d earned it. He raised his eyes to the ceiling above, thought about Rosa, reckoned McAllister was the ’luckiest man alive and tramped off to his room for a few hours sleep.

  Seven

  McAllister awoke feeling fine. He had never felt better in his life. Sure, when he moved his side hurt him, but a little hurt never did a man any harm. His head was clear and when he held out his right hand, it was as steady as a rock. He sat up and saw that he was alone in the room. He was naked between the sheets. Coffee, he thought. Coffee followed by a steak as big as your head. Then he’d be ready for anything.

  The door opened and Rosa walked in carrying a tray.

  She looked radiant. Her eyes were bright and her mouth was smiling. He thought she looked a different person. Love, he reckoned, did her as much good as it did him. She put the tray down beside the bed and bent over to kiss him. He smacked her a noisy kiss and said: ‘Say, is that coffee I smell. My, honey, you look good enough to eat, but right now I’m hankering after a man-size steak.’

  She slapped his face lightly. He saw that she had changed from the fine clothes she had worn the night before and was now dressed in simple gingham. He reckoned whatever she wore, she was a woman in a million.

  ‘We will drink coffee together, you will dress and then you shall have that steak,’ she told him.

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he told her and patted the bed beside him.

  She climbed on the bed and sat beside him and it was good having her so close, leaning against him. They drank coffee together out of the same cup. When he had drunk five cups, they made a little love and then he got up. She dressed the wound for him and then he put his clothes on. The side was stiff, but he still felt good. He found that he had a silly grin on his face that he couldn’t get rid of. She kissed him and hurried off to prepare breakfast. He sat on the edge of the bed, cleaned the Remington and thought about the situation.

  The Brenells were the bulk of the problem, but there was also the contest. It was a little complicated. The Brenells would hit Jim Rigby. They would also get McAllister if they could. Clem wanted his revenge. Carl wanted to pay the man who had hurt his precious boy. Whichever way you looked at it, the Brenells had to be stopped. Then there was Harry Shultz. He’d made one try at McAllister and he’d make another because the man obviously suspected that McAllister had recognised him in the hotel when he had made his attack. Added to that, Shultz was crooked from the top of his head to the soles of his feet and he would want his man to win. So that was another reason for him to get McAllister. There were too many men around here wanting to get him for McAllister’s liking. If he’d any sense at all, he’d cut his losses and get out of here fast. But he knew that his weakness was challenges. Pat Rigby had been a challenge, Rosa was a challenge, the Brenells and Shultz were a challenge. He was too young and full of spunk to duck a problem like this one. It was unbearable that a man or a woman could make him back down. Maybe he’d learn how to do it one day, but he hadn’t learned it yet.

  He assembled the gun, slid it away in its holster and went downstairs. He found his way to the kitchen and there was Rosa, all flushed and lovely from the stove, putting the finishing touches to the biggest steak McAllister had ever seen. He reckoned a woman never looked lovelier than when she was serving food. He sat at the table and she put the steak in front of him. He fell on it like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week. She joined him, eating delicately but with appetite. With appreciation, he watched her put away her food as if she enjoyed it. He couldn’t stand seeing a person pick at food. They were silent and content in each other’s company as they ate. Then they lounged over more coffee and McAllister lit his pipe and puffed happily.

  He smiled at Rosa.

  ‘I ain’t never been so tempted to stay in one place before, girl,’ he said.

  She grinned back at him and said: ‘That’s praise indeed.’

  ‘I hope I didn’t do you harm in town by stayin’ last night,’ he told her. ‘That Clem Brenell seemed to think he had some claim on you.’

  ‘No man has any claim on me.’

  Mart Krantz walked in and accepted a cup of coffee. He told McAllister that Brenell had wanted to get to him a little earlier, but he had managed to change his mind, temporarily. It wouldn’t stay changed. The man would be back and he wouldn’t be alone.

  McAllister said: ‘Seems to me I compete with Billy Gage and then I get out of town fast.’

  ‘If you have the sense,’ Rosa added.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said Mart. ‘Billy’s on his way over with Harry Shultz.’

  Mart drank coffee with them for a little while. When he rose to go, he said: ‘I want you to be real careful, Rem. The Brenells aren’t going to stay quiet for long.’

  McAllister grinned and said: ‘You don’t know the half of it, Mart.’ The sheriff went and a moment later Billy Gage came in. He was, McAllister was thankful to see, alone. He introduced Billy to Rosa who offered coffee which was accepted.

  ‘Say, Rem,’ Billy said, ‘I heard out at the ranch that you shot Clem Brenell. Pat Rigby’s raising hell and says she don’t want to ever see you again.’ Rosa snorted and muttered something about that being no loss. McAllister grinned. ‘But this is great about you competing against me. This is going to be the biggest thing that ever happened in this state. I’m really going to get my own back now.’

  Rosa said: ‘There ought not to be any contest. Don’t you know that——’ McAllister knew she was going to tell Gage abou
t his being wounded. But he stopped her abruptly.

  ‘That’s all right, Rosa,’ he snapped. ‘Forget it.’

  She got the message, but she looked annoyed. Gage looked from one to the other in puzzlement.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothin’,’ McAllister said. ‘Everythin’s fine. I’m going to beat the pants off’n you tomorrow and I’m goin’ to make more money than I ever did before in all my life.’

  Rosa said: ‘I don’t like it, Rem.’

  McAllister said curtly: ‘I like it fine. Take it easy, Rosa.’

  ‘Take it easy, he says,’ she snorted and flounced to the other side of the room. Gage looked put out. He suspected that he had been the cause of the tiff between the two of them.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I—er—I’d best get going. Thanks for the coffee, Miss Rosa.’ She turned and gave the poor fellow a cold stare. ‘See you later, Rem.’

  He left, flushed red with embarrassment.

  McAllister said: ‘I had to stop you tellin’ him I was hurt, Rosa. I don’t know how good a man he is. Somethin’ happened … when I got this knife cut. Maybe he was in on it and maybe he wasn’t. But if he knows I’m hurt, he could work on it in the fight.’

  She came to him and put her arms around him.

  ‘I don’t want you to fight at all,’ she said. ‘It’s crazy with you hurt the way you are.’

  ‘I beat him in Abbotsville and I out-ran him yesterday. I feel fine, honey.’

  ‘But… oh, what’s the use. You’ve made up your mind and you’re like a mule.’ She tightened a grip on him. ‘My big mule.’

  ‘A mule!’ he exclaimed. ‘I like that. Say, was I like a mule last night?’

  She smiled and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

  ‘Not at all like a mule,’ she said softly. ‘Now go away, I have work to do.’

  She pushed him out and still smiling foolishly, he went to look at the town.

  Men knew him now. He was their champion and a lot of them had their money on him. They greeted him very differently from last night. He walked to the barber’s shop and had a shave. Feeling refreshed, he went to check on the canelo which Mart had thoughtfully taken to the livery. He found the California horse full of corn and wanting a run. Then he mooched around town, saw Billy Gage start out on his day’s run with an admiring crowd watching him set off. He glimpsed Harry Shultz bossing the exercise. If Billy Gage had not been present the night Shultz had made his attack in the hotel, who had the second man been? If it had not been Billy Gage, then there must be a third man around here. If so, who was he? He didn’t doubt that there would be some nobbling done before the contest was finished.