Ghostlike then, he moved along the back of the buildings to the door he sought. It was locked.
Ahead of him a curtain was stirred by the wind, a curtain indicating an open window. He paused near it, listening. Inside he could hear the breathing of a man, yet it was the only way in. Hesitating only a moment, he put his foot over the sill and ducked his head through the window.
He drew his other foot in and straightened up, only to be suddenly seized from behind. A powerful forearm came across his throat in a stranglehold, crushing back against his throat with tremendous power. He strained forward, agonizing pain shooting through the growing blackness and desperation in his brain, and then he leaned forward, lifting the man's feet clean from the floor. Suddenly the hold relaxed and he felt a hand slide down his side and touch his gun butt, then the other.
"I am sorry, senor," a voice whispered. "I did not know it was you."
"Brigo!"
"Si. I did not know you, senor, but when you lifted me from the ground ... only one man is as powerful as you, senor. Then, your guns, I know them well."
"The senorita is here?"
"Si. Senor, it is good that you come. I fear for her. Thees Hale, he wants her ver' much! Also, the Cub of the Bear. He wants her. I fear for her. One day they will come for her. This I know. And I am but one man, senor."
There was worry in the big man's tone, and Kilkenny knew it was not for himself. Caring for Nita Riordan was for him a sacred trust.
"I see the two hombres Dunn and Ravitz. They watch me always. Soon they will try to keel me. I think the Cub of the Bear has instructed them to do so.
"The senorita, she has told me to do nothing unless they move first, but I cannot wait longer. Together they might kill me or hurt me so that I cannot watch over her, so I must go out and hunt them ... with the blade, senor."
He paused. "You are a man of the wars, senor. You understand what must be done."
"Wait, if you can. Then do what you must. You do not kill without reason, Jaime. That I know. Do not wait for the senorita to tell you, because she will not. Even what she knows must be done will not be done because of her heart.
"We know that, Jaime. But there are men out there who have no heart, who do not care. Cub is one. When the time comes, do what you must."
"I am a Yaqui, senor. You weel come with me?"
On cat feet Kilkenny followed the big man down the hall, where he tapped very lightly on a door. Immediately she said, "Brigo?"
"Si. The senor ees here."
The door opened quickly, and Jaime Brigo vanished in the darkness down the hall as Kilkenny stepped into the room.
He heard her draw the curtains, heard the strike of a match, and then a lighted candle. There were Tiffany lamps in the room, but she did not light one; the candle was easier, quicker, and more portable.
Her black hair fell over her shoulders halfway to her waist. He saw the quick rise of her breast under the thin material of the nightgown. "Kilkenny? What is it?"
Her voice was low, and something in the timbre made his muscles tremble, and it was all he could do not to take her in his arms.
"I had to see you. You are all right?"
"He has given me until after the celebration to make up my mind. After that I must marry him or escape somehow." She put the candle down. "Lance, I honestly do not think he has any doubt. He can see no reason why a woman would not be eager to marry him, especially such a one as I... who keeps a saloon."
"That celebration is the cornerstone of everything now." Briefly, dispassionately, he related what had taken place, the crossing of the wilderness country, the fights at Blazer, and the ambush on the road. The deaths of Miller, Soderman, and Gaddis, as well as those of Lije and the others.
"He's made the greatest mistake of his life," he added, "although he doesn't know it yet. Hale is in deep trouble now."
He removed his hat quickly. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking." Then he asked, "Has he said anything about Blazer?"
"From all you say, I am sure he doesn't know all that happened. He said there would be an attempt to get food from there but that it couldn't be done. He seemed well pleased with his plans."
"I'm going to fight Turner," Kilkenny said.
"I know."
"If Sandoval doesn't show up, that is."
"I talked to Mrs. Hatfield. You can be sure that he will not be here. I had heard he had a girl in San Francisco, so he got a ticket to there and a suggestion that there was going to be a lot of trouble, and some shooting, and that even if he won he might not get his money. He decided to go to San Francisco, but King Bill doesn't know it yet."
"What will he do?"
"He'll be furious. That fight is the big event of the celebration, and he particularly wishes to make a friend of Halloran. I do not know all his reasons, but I know Hale is disturbed about some new territorial ruling."
Kilkenny nodded. "Nita, I know nothing about that ruling or Halloran, but I do know that once I speak to him, Hale is finished. It is simple as that. But that is why I must speak to him, and there'll be no other way to even get close to him unless I am in that ring."
"All right," she said simply, "when Sandoval fails to show, I'll suggest you. I think he will do it."
She turned back to him. "Lance, are you sure you want to do this? I've seen Turner. He is here in town training right now. I have seen him bend silver dollars in his fingers, and the other evening he squatted beside one of the tables, with dishes and food on it, and he took the corner of the table in his teeth and lifted all four legs off the floor."
"He's strong. There's no question of it. And he's a very good fighter. But I have to speak to Halloran, and my only chance is from the ring. I must convince him that we are not outlaws, and I have one argument of which Hale knows nothing, but I must talk to Hallo-ran."
"Brigo says you will win."
"Win?" For the first time he thought seriously of that, yet the big Yaqui had an almost animal instinct for judging the fighting abilities of men. A fierce, ruthless man himself, he had lived long in a land where men lived only by courage and strength.
"Nita, if there is a chance, say something to Halloran."
"There won't be. He will see to that. Hale trusts no one except Cub. Yet, if the chance comes, I shall say what I can."
He turned and put a hand on" the knob. "Nita; when this is over, I am coming for you. I have waited too long."
"I will be ready." She looked up at him in the dim light. "Wherever you go, I will go. I made my choice, Lance, long ago in Texas."
Kilkenny slipped from the house and returned to his horse. The black was eager to go. When he mounted he did not return the way he had come but right down the main street. He had to see the ring, see where the seats would be.
The ring was regulation twenty-four feet. At one side, where it would be shaded from the afternoon sun, was a booth containing several chairs. It was draped with bunting. Undoubtedly this was where Hale would sit with Cub and his guests. The emperor to watch the gladiators. Kilkenny smiled. "And to observe his destruction." he said aloud.
A light footstep, and Lance turned the black sharply, his right hand ready.
"It's all right, Kilkenny." A man stepped from the shadows near the ring. "It's Dan Cooper."
"You know me. then?"
Cooper chuckled. "Recognized your face that first day but couldn't place it. Matter of fact, it came to me just now. Hale will be wild when he hears."
"You're a good man, Cooper," Kilkenny said, "but on the wrong side."
"When is the winning side the wrong side? It isn't for me. I'm not making any statements as to who is right and who isn't, but for a gunhand, the best side is always the winning side."
"No conscience, Cooper?" Kilkenny asked mildly. "Dick Moffit was a good man, so were Tot Wilson, Lije Hatfield, and Jody Miller."
"Lije died?" Cooper asked quickly. "Damn the luck! I was hoping he'd make it. The Hales don't think much of the Hatfields, but they don't know that mountain sto
ck like I do. Now they will have to kill every last one of them or die themselves."
"You could have tried a shot at me, Cooper."
"From the dark? I'm not that kind. I'm not anxious to be the man who shoots you, anyway. Somebody will do it someday, and then he will be 'the man who shot Kilkenny,' and every punk would-be hotshot in the country will be taking shots at him."
Dan Cooper walked closer. "Kilkenny, there's talk around town--just rumor, mind you--that Sandoval isn't going to show, and that you're going to fight Turner."
"Now, how did that story get started? Makes a man wonder, doesn't it?"
"It's a fact, Kilkenny. Also, nobody is repeating the rumor to King Bill." Cooper put his hand on the black's neck. "That's the trouble with being king, you're always the last one to hear what everybody else is saying."
"What are they saying?"
"I heard today there'd been a fight in the mountains, and a lot of killing done. Would you know anything about that, Kilkenny?"
"We sent a couple of wagons through to Blazer. An effort was made to stop them. They went through and came back."
"That was it, then. We heard Lije Hatfield was shot, but nothing more. Whoever was responsible isn't anxious to tell Hale."
"Soderman was responsible, and Soderman won't be telling him. Nor Gaddis, either."
"Gaddis was asking for it, but Soderman? I thought he'd be too smart to get himself killed."
"I gave Rye Pitkin his walking papers," Kilkenny said, "and I think he's gone."
"I'll be damned! And your wagons went through?"
"Cooper, take my advice and fork your bronc. Just take out of here and don't come back. Hale is through."
"Hale?" Cooper shook his head. "Why, Kilkenny, this won't stop him! Not even your name won't. He's got the money and he has the power--"
"Not anymore, he hasn't."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Dan, sometimes a man's ego gets so inflated that he just can't see other people. Anybody who has less than he has is nobody, and to be brushed aside.
"Well, Hale brushed a man aside the other day who will haunt him the rest of his life. I am going to help grease the skids for Hale, Dan, but he destroyed himself when one of his gunmen shot Jody Miller."
"Jody Miller? That farmer?" Cooper was puzzled. "I don't get it."
Kilkenny turned the black. "Like I said, Dan. Get up in the saddle and ride--far and fast."
"No, I'll stay. Anyway, I want to see the fight. If you do tackle Turner, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Between the two of us, I wouldn't envy you. That hombre isn't human. He eats like three men, and muscles? He's got muscles on his muscles!"
Kilkenny started away.
"Just two people in town bettin' on you, Kilkenny."
Lance drew up. "Who?"
"That Yaqui gunfighter and Cain Brockman."
"Brockman?" Kilkenny was surprised.
"He says he's goin' to kill you, but not until you've whipped Turner. Fact is, he told Turner to his face that if you two met you would whip him."
Dan Cooper hitched up his belt. "You'd better ride on, Kilkenny. My relief will be comin' along soon, and he might not be so anxious to see a good fight that he would pass up five thousand dollars."
"Five thousand?"
"That's what it's worth to anybody who brings you in, dead or alive. That's off the record, of course. Cub didn't like it. He wants you himself."
"So long, Dan."
"Adios, but watch out for Cub. He's faster'n a striking rattler."
Kilkenny rode out of town and took to the hills. He did not follow a trail, but as the moon was up, he choose mountainsides and streambeds. He bedded down about daylight in a hidden hollow in the hills he had found while hunting. He slept until almost noon.
When he awakened he got up and climbed into the saddle again. So Cain Brockman had bet on him. As he rode he lived over again that bitter, bloody afternoon in the old Trail House when he had whipped Cain. Cain's great body had seemed impervious to anything a fist could do, yet Lance had finally brought him down.
He had taken a roundabout route, so it was almost sundown before he rode into the Cup. Parson and Quince were waiting for him.
He told them the results of his ride and of his talk with Dan Cooper.
"You're dead set on fightin' Turner?"
"It's our only chance to get to Halloran. If I can talk to him, we've got it made. Halloran will open a full-scale investigation of just what's been going on."
"You think he'll listen? Halloran, I mean?"
"He will. He will listen and he will give me all his attention, believe me."
"What if Turner beats you insensible before you get a chance to talk?"
"That's a chance I have to take, but I've changed my mind about a couple of things. I was going in just to fight him until I got a chance to talk. Now I'm going in to win."
Parson shook his head, then spat. "Ain't the fight has me worried. If the good Lord wants you to win, you'll win. I'm worried about what comes after.
"Win or lose, do you think Hale will let you ride out of town scot-free?"
Chapter 16
In a small alcove off the gaming room, at a beautifully set table, Nita Riordan was entertaining King Bill Hale, Cub, Wallace, and Halloran when John Bartlett appeared.
"Mr. Hale? May I speak with you, sir?"
"John? By all means, come in. Have a seat. Gentleman, John Bartlett is the business manager for our fighter, Tombull Turner."
He turned to Nita. "Nita, I am sorry. Mr. Bartlett, Nita Riordan."
"We have met," Bartlett said. "I've had the pleasure."
He was a big red-haired man of florid face and quiet manners, but now he was disturbed. "Mr. Hale, I've just had word that Sandoval won't be here. He's gone off to San Francisco!"
"What!" Hale was furious. "Why, that ..." He stopped abruptly.
"You mean there's to be no fight?" Halloran protested. "I'd been looking forward to it."
"I've tried, but there doesn't seem to be another fighter within miles. There's some miner in Butte, but nobody knows much about him and it would take several days to get him here."
Hale leaned over the table. "John, think of somebody! We can set up fresh horses and rush him in here."
"John C. Heenan is in New York. Tom Sayers is supposed to be on his way back to England. There is nobody around who could even hope to give Tombull a match."
"There might be," Nita said quietly.
Hale either did not hear or chose to ignore her. "The miner you spoke of. Can he fight?"
"As a matter of fact ... no. He's big, strong, and that's about it. I doubt if he could stand up for a round."
Halloran turned to Nita. "You know of someone?"
"Well, Mr. Hale knows him, and so does about everybody else around here. He's not a professional, but he is a fighter, and a very good one."
"What about it, Hale?" Wallace said. "After all, you promised us a fight."
Hale hesitated, but Cub broke in. "Turner would beat him to death, and I'd like to see it."
"The man's not a professional," Hale protested.
"But he's good, is that it?" Wallace insisted.
"There's already talk around town," Nita interposed quietly. "That newcomer, Cain Brockman? You saw him. He believes Trent could beat Turner."
"Who is this Brockman? Is he around?" Bartlett asked.
"The big man standing at the bar ... the man with the broken nose and the red vest. That's Brockman."
"Can we talk to him, Mr. Hale? After all, I've brought Turner up here at considerable expense. If there's a chance of a fight, we should have it."
"The man's an outlaw!" Hale said irritably. "He's one of that bunch up in the hills that I've been telling you about. I know nothing about him."
Bartlett got up from the table and walked over to Cam Brockman. After a minute he came back, followed by Brockman.
"Do you know this man they call Trent?" Bartlett asked him.
&nbs
p; "I know him."
"We need to know only one thing about him," Halloran suggested. "Can he fight?"
"If you mean can he whip Turner, I've got five hundred dollars says he can." Cain leaned his big fists on the table. "I came here to kill him, and I intend to, but he can fight.
"Nobody ever whupped me until he did it. I had many a fight on tie-cutting camps, railroad-construction camps, everywhere. I whupped everbody. That man you call Trent weighs less'n two hundred. I weigh two-sixty. I got four inches in height on him, and the reach, and he whupped me."
"What more do you want?" Nita said quietly. "You need a fighter, and you have one. What difference does it make Mr. Hale, whether he's run out of here before the fight or after it?"
Hale still hesitated, and Wallace looked around curiously at Cain. "You said you came here to kill him. Why?"
"He killed my brother, Abel. Shot him dead."
"Was it a gun battle?" Halloran asked.
"It was fair shootin', if that's what you're askin', an' it'll be a fair shootin' when I kill him."
"What about it, Hale?" Halloran said. "Is this man our fighter?"
John Bartlett was waiting. King Bill Hale did not like it. He wanted to see Trent whipped, and whipped badly, but he did not want the man in town, he did not want him acknowledged or recognized or given attention. He wanted him dead. At the same time, he had invited these men here to see a fight. He had imported John Bartlett and his fighter for the purpose.
"I don't know how we can get him," he said after a moment. "That's a lawless crowd up there."
"I could send my man Brigo after him. He's a neutral party."
King Bill was irritated. Why didn't she stay out of this? She and Cub.
"All right," he said, "if we can get him."
"I'm genuinely curious about the man now," Wallace said. "He must be quite a fighter."
"Turner will kill him," Hale said irritably.
Cain Brockman reached in his pocket. "What odds are you givin'?"
Hale threw Brockman an angry look, but Cain was not awed. "I ain't one of your outfit, Mr. Hale, and I'm driftin' on after this here's over. I got five hundred on Trent at the odds."
the Mountain Valley War (1978) Page 14
