by Jonas Ward
Trevor drawled, "I say, if he wasn't killed by the bullet, the fall would've been the death of him, what?"
Durkin said from behind Buchanan, "They got high gun on us."
"The roof," Buchanan said. "Need a couple men up there."
"Right," Trevor agreed. He went nimbly up the ladder with his rifle and a box of shells.
"Now you people. Keep your heads down and watch out for ricochets. Understand?"
Durkin said, "Ain't no way of duckin' bullets, Buchanan. I say let's git out there and try 'em."
"Across open ground?"
"You ever seen what a charge can do? Scares saddle-bums like them to pieces."
"There's some sharp gunnies up there," Buchanan told him. "You want to run at 'em? Go ahead."
Durkin mumbled, "Takes more'n one. No guts around here, I kin see that."
Buchanan ignored him. The hog farmers were standing by, guns in their hands, looking a bit lost. He said to them, "You two. Go up with Trevor. Lay low and only shoot when he tells you or you see a plain target."
They were thin enough to easily squeeze through the narrow trapdoor. A bit fearfully they went, son following his father. They had been very subdued since Buchanan had lectured them. He wondered if they could shoot or if they would have the stamina to stand up under a siege.
Kovacs and his wife and Amanda were standing by a cleared long-table ready to reload guns as fast as they were emptied. All seemed calm enough. The Indian girl was again with Coco and Weevil, practicing her healing art. No one had shown panic at the first shots. They had been steeling themselves.
Durkin said, "I dunno, Buchanan. It don't look good to me."
"Now that's funny," Buchanan said. "I thought it looked just dandy."
"I ain't sure you know what you're doin'."
Buchanan found a mirror on the wall. He arranged it so that he could obtain a pretty good view of what was taking place outside the front of the house without exposing himself at the window.
He said to Durkin, "You want to try something? Make a run for the barn and help hold it down."
"I dunno if I want to "
Just then a white flag was waved from the woods. Without further ado, Durkin went to the back door and trailed his rifle out to the barn. Bradbury, Pollard, and Dealer Fox appeared, Pollard carrying the white cloth.
Buchanan called, "Not too close."
Pollard and Fox stopped, Bradbury walked on a few steps and shouted.
"Buchanan. Want to talk to you."
"Little late for that, Colonel."
"No. I don't want any unnecessary killin'."
"Just the necessary kind, huh? You with an army out there."
"Well, we want to get those people out of the country. Specially the women. They got to go, Buchanan. Ain't no, two ways about it."
"Tell me more."
"They stole our cattle. They burnt Trevor out."
"Then why is it I am here?" Trevor called from the roof. "You liar."
"We'll make it up to you, Trevor. Build you a new house. Just you all surrender, and we'll make a deal. You leave the country. We pay the freight."
"I don't hear from Dealer or Morgan," Trevor retorted. "You're a fool, Brad. They've got you in a box."
"I'm backin' Brad," Fox said. "You can all take whatever you can tote and go. Nothin' will happen to you."
"Oh, what a story," said Rob Whelan. "Tell him to go straight to hell."
"Durkin," Fox yelled. "You're there some place. What about you?"
"Go to hell, like Whelan suggested," said Durkin from the barn. "I know you, and I know Morgan and Pollard."
"You people could start elsewhere," Bradbury urged. "There's plenty of places. Like I say, we'll pay you enough to get started again wherever you want to go."
"And keep our mouths shut forever," said Whelan. "Live out our lives with Adam Day hanged by the neck, us knowin' who done it."
"You see, these people don't want to be run off," Buchanan said. "They're right peculiar that way. You got one man down. How many do we have to send after him?"
"Too many," Pollard snarled. "C'mon, Boss." He tugged at Bradbury, who pulled himself away.
Buchanan said, "They got you, Colonel. They got you in a bind."
"The women." Bradbury was pleading now. "At least let the women go."
"You don't like that part?" Whelan was at the window now. "You dirty, lousy, lowdown skunk-bastards, you don't like it about the women? Well, lump it!"
Amanda Day said, "Let me, please." She went to stand beside Buchanan. He watched for movement on the knoll or in the trees, not trusting them for an instant.
She called, "The women decline. The women have seen your handiwork. They saw my husband. The whole town saw him. The women are staying."
Pollard said, "Y' see? C'mon."
Bradbury went unwillingly as his foreman hauled at him. Dealer Fox was already plodding back toward the trees. Buchanan was watching the top of the knoll. A man appeared, kneeling, his rifle pointed at the house.
There was a shot from the roof. The man tumbled and rolled down the hill. Shouts went up and a rataplan of lead rang from the stone house as bullets sought the sharpshooter. Trevor's laugh could be heard, light and merry.
"Could have been Dealer, y' know. Or better still, Pollard. Mind your manners, now. Who's next?"
The gunfire thundered, but no one showed himself. It was a good start, but a long day remained. And then there would be night.
Buchanan made the rounds, checking his forces. The open fields precluded an attack from the rear. The flanks were protected by the barn and the truck garden leading to the road. This was the only salvation he had been able to see.
He paused beside Kovacs. The man's face seemed thinner, his eyes were sunken, but he was unafraid. He had made his peace and was facing disaster as best he knew how.
Buchanan asked, "You got a handsaw around?" _·
"Saw?"
"That hole up yonder. If you could make it bigger I'd admire to make it to the roof. The sun and all, nobody can stay up there all day."
"Is so." He brightened. It was always good to have some definite task. He bustled into the kitchen.
Whelan was watching in Buchanan's mirror arrangement. "They'll be schemin' and augurin'. Bradbury, he's in it now."
They won't rush us in the daytime." Buchanan made his voice light, confident for all to hear.
"If they got duck brains, they won't rush us nohow," said Fay Whelan.
"They got to," said Buchanan. "This house won't burn. They’ll sharp shoot all day. Night comes, they got to move.”
"Good thing we got the stable covered."
"If Durkin can hold it, that's a real hole card."
Fay asked, "You think he's on the level?"
"We'll watch the barn. Night and day."
If Durkin was a plant, the whole thing could go to pieces, Buchanan knew. He went into the kitchen. Amanda was preparing cold food that could be eaten quickly and easily. The Indian girl was stirring another brew on the stove, and Buchanan could detect a different odor to the herbs she was using.
"How is Weevil?" he asked her.
"Much better today."
"When can he handle a gun?"
"Soon." She looked at Buchanan. "It is the black man who hurts."
"Coco. His name is Coco. If it ever comes hand to hand, he'd be our best man."
"Yes. He is very strong." She indicated the pot on the stove. "There is much good here. These cures are handed down only by word of mouth, you know."
"I know. Your people are very wise."
She smiled gently. Her eyes were not quite black. They were wide-set and seemed to see more than the eyes of ordinary people. "You are a friend."
"Of the Crow, yes." He grinned at her. "I seen the time some Apaches and me didn't hit it off so good."
"I do not know Apaches. I know you do not tell lies."
"Not when the truth'll do," he told her.
"You are like Badger."
"Maybe a little, because we been around so long."
"The others, they are different," she whispered. "You must watch all of them excepting Pieter and Jenny."
"I'll watch. You do your best for Coco."
She nodded gravely, "I will do so."
The sound of Kovacs' saw was homey. It could have been reassuring if an occasional bullet had not winged its way to smash into a wall or a piece of furniture.
Amanda said, "I can't help ducking. As if it would do any good if one of them is meant for me."
"Only way to look at it," Buchanan told her.
"You're accustomed to fighting. It's just plain fortunate for us that you're here."
"Maybe." He need not boost the spirits of this woman, he felt. "A lot of luck's going to enter into this hooraw."
"I believe in you." She looked straight at him. "I wish we had met before. Any time before."
"It might've been real nice." He smiled at her. He had to remember that she had not been in love with her husband before he died. He wanted to respect her, there was something special about her.
"It would have been very nice indeed," she said.
He nodded and went out of the kitchen. Kovacs was coming down the ladder. A bullet slashed across the room and narrowly missed the saw. It caromed off the stone wall and went into the fireplace.
Kovacs said sadly, "Our house. We had pride in our house. We had love." He looked beyond Buchanan to where Raven was attending the two who had been battered. "Much love."
"I can see that." Buchanan felt more helpless every moment. No matter what the final result, there would be the damage to property, the certain injury to individuals. They all looked to him, and there was little he could do.
He climbed up to the roof with his rifle. He slid on elbows and knees to the parapet, thankful that the sharp-shooters in the trees did not have the proper angle for a fair shot at him. As he crawled, he thought of the woman and the banked fires within her. For a long time, she endured her life with Adam Day with that fire slumbering. She must have been pushed to the limit to leave him— and she had been courageous to attempt to return, not for her own sake, but for Adam's.
The elder Thome whined, "I'm mighty thirsty here in the sun."
“You're excused," said Buchanan. "Trevor, will you kinda take charge downstairs?"
'"Right-o. Must say, Durkin's been takin a few pot shots from the barn. Hasn't hit anything yet, though."
"Which could mean anything," said Buchanan.
"Shall watch," Trevor promised and followed Pa Thorne.
Sonny Thorne fingered an old rifle, squirmed, keeping his head down. "Mr. Buchanan?"
"Uh-huh."
" 'Bout the nigger."
"Black man, name of Coco Bean. Mister Bean to you."
"I seen buffalo sojers. Good men. Course, the blue uniform, that sets Pa off, us bein' Secesh."
"My father fought with Jackson."
"No foolin'?" The straw-haired thin man was surprised. "I woulda took you for a Yankee."
"Wasn't in it, myself. Took care of the home place."
"Well, wanted you to know. Pa, he goes on a lot. Can't say I'm altogether agin him. Ain't fer it, neither. Man's a man. Not that I'd want him to marry my sister."
"If you had a sister," Buchanan said, "Coco wouldn't want to marry her. Ever think of that?"
Sonny Thorne scowled for a moment. "Can't believe that. On t'other hand. I ain't got a sister." He brightened. "So best not to think on it."
"Uh-huh. Best not to strain yourself." Buchanan saw a movement in the trees and fired a shot. There was answering fire from the knoll, all directed at the roof. "Tryin' a sort of crossfire on us. Can't quite make it. They'll have to think of somethin' smart."
"If they was smart, they wouldn't've hung Adam," said Sonny Thorne with unexpected force. "Cause you know why?"
"Why?"
"Didn't nobody real care a damn for Adam. People liked her . . . Amanda. Adam was too muchety-much. He overdone it. He was honest and all. ... But he rubbed it into people that didn't work as hard as he did, sunup to sundown. We ain't here on account of Adam Day."
"Then why are you here?"
"Them others, Bradbury and Fox and Crane, they pushed too hard. Pretty soon, we was in a corner." He grinned wryly. "You know how it is. Rats'll fight when cornered. And so will cats and just about everything else on earth."
Out of the mouths of the prejudiced ignorant, thought Buchanan, and out of the souls of people of every stage of life. There was no such thing as little people or big people, just human beings doing what had to be done. That fact made it easier for him to face impending disaster.
Colonel Bradbury sat on a fallen tree trunk and watched squat, ugly Toad Tanner drive a wagon into the clearing. There was a gunman on the seat with Tanner but none in the wagon body. Dealer Fox went to investigate. Bradbury wore his six shooter for the first time in years and nursed a rifle upon his lap.
Fox asked, "You get the stuff okay?"
"Kegs of powder. All the dynamite in town." Tanner chuckled. "Wasn't easy. Store didn't want to sell out all his stock. People gettin' a bit techy in town."
"Hope you didn't start a ruckus."
"Naw. Just showed him my hawgleg and ast pretty. He come through."
"We don't want the town against us. Don't want them repairin' the telegraph line or makin' any noises. Got to be a mite careful there."
"Didn't hurt him none. Just sorta convinced him. Where you want the wagon?"
"Over back of the knoll, out of range of the house. Crane and Pollard'll tell you what to do."
Bradbury said nothing. Jigger Dorn was lounging nearby, grinning as always. There was never a moment one of them wasn't hanging around, watching.
It was getting to be a nightmare. The wagon contained enough explosives to blow up the countryside. And already there were two dead men buried over beyond the knoll. Drifters whose families would never know their last resting place. It had been easy to talk of subduing rustlers, fence-cutters, barn-burners. The doing of it was different. He had made his bid too late and, of course, had failed. They had been against it, they had sneered at him when it idled. Now he was virtually a prisoner.
"And if things go wrong, they'll find a way to kill me," he muttered to himself. Dorn was grinning at him. There was never any mirth in Dorn's grimace, he knew.
Tanner was saying, "Got to work to that stable. Mebbe tunnel underground, plant this here stuff. Ain't no other way agin that damn stone house."
"If we can set it afire, we can make a charge."
