“Aw, forget it! Quit cryin’! You do more yelpin’ than a mangy coyote!”
Sandifer stood very still, thinking. There was no sound of Elaine so she must be a prisoner in her room. Turning, he tiptoed across the room toward the far side. A door there, beyond the old piano, opened into Elaine’s room. Carefully, he tried the knob. It held.
At that very instant a door opened abruptly and he saw light under the door before him. He heard a startled gasp from Elaine, and Lee Martin’s voice, taunting, familiar.
“What’s the matter? Scared?” Martin laughed. “I just came in to see if you was all right. If you’d kept that pretty mouth of yours shut, your Dad would still be all right! You tellin’ him Sandifer was correct about the Katrishens, an’ that he shouldn’t of fired him!”
“He shouldn’t have,” the girl said quietly. “If he was here now he’d kill you. Get out of my room!”
“Maybe I ain’t ready to go?” he taunted. “An’ from now on I’m goin’ to come an’ go as I like.”
His steps advanced into the room, and Jim tightened his grip on the knob. He remembered that lock, and it was not set very securely. Suddenly, an idea came to him. Turning, he picked up an old glass lamp, large and ornate. Balancing it momentarily in his hand, he drew it back and hurled it with a long overhand swing, through the window!
Glass crashed on the verandah and the lamp hit, went down a step and lay there. Inside the girl’s room there was a startled exclamation, and he heard running footsteps from both the girl’s room and the old man’s. Somebody yelled, “What’s that? What happened?” And he hurled his shoulder against the door.
As he had expected the flimsy lock carried away, and he was catapulted through the door into Elaine’s bedroom. Catching himself, he wheeled like a cat and sprang for the door that opened into the living room beyond. He reached it just as Mont jerked the curtain back, but not wanting to endanger the girl, he swung hard with his fist instead of drawing his gun.
The blow came out of a clear sky to smash Mont on the jaw and he staggered back into the room. Jim Sandifer sprang through, legs spread, hands wide.
“You, Martin!” he said sharply. “Draw!”
Lee Martin was a killer, but no gunman. White to the lips, his eyes deadly, he sprang behind his mother and grabbed for the shotgun.
“Shoot, Jim!” Elaine cried. “Shoot!”
He could not. Rose Martin stood between him and his target and Martin had the shotgun now and was swinging it. Jim lunged, shoving the table over and the lamp shattered in a crash. He fired, then fired again. Flame stabbed the darkness at him and he fell back against the wall, switching his gun. Fire laced the darkness into a stabbing crimson crossfire and the room thundered with sound, then died to stillness that was the stillness of death itself.
No sounded remained, only the acrid smell of gunpowder mingled with the smell of coal oil and the faint, sickish sweet smell of blood. His guns ready, Jim crouched in the darkness, alert for movement. Somebody groaned, then sighed deeply, and a spur grated on the floor. From the next room, Gray Bowen called weakly. “Daughter? Daughter, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”
There was no movement yet, but the darkness grew more familiar. Jim’s eyes became more accustomed to it. He could see no one standing. Yet it was Elaine who broke the stillness.
“Jim? Jim, are you all right? Oh, Jim—are you safe?”
Maybe they were waiting for this.
“I’m all right,” he said.
“Light your lamp, will you?” Deliberately, he moved, and there was no sound within the room—only, outside, a running of feet on the hard-packed earth. Then a door slammed open and Sparkman stood there, gun in hand.
“It’s all right, I think,” Sandifer said. “We shot it out.”
Elaine entered the room with a light and caught herself with a gasp at the sight before her. Jim reached for the lamp.
“Go to your father,” he said swiftly. “We’ll take care of this!” Sparkman looked around, followed into the room by Grimes. “Good grief!” he gasped. “They are all dead! All of them!”
“The woman, too?” Sandifer’s face paled. “I hope I didn’t—”
“You didn’t,” Grimes said. “She was shot in the back, by her own son. Shootin’ in the dark, blind an’ gun crazy.”
“Maybe it’s better,” Sparkman said, “She was an old hellion.” Klee Mont had caught his right at the end of his eyebrow, and a second shot along the ribs. Sandifer walked away from him and stood over Lee Martin. His face twisted in a sneer, the dead man lay sprawled on the floor literally shot to doll rags.
“You didn’t miss many,” Sparkman said grimly.
“I didn’t figure to,” Jim said. “I’ll see the old man, then, give you a hand.”
“Forget it.” Grimes looked up, his eyes faintly humorous. “You stay in there. An’ don’t spend all your time with the old man. We need a new setup on this here spread, an’ with a new son-in-law who’s a first-rate cattleman, Gray could set back an’ relax!”
Sandifer stopped with his hand on the curtain. “Maybe you got something there,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe you have!” “You can take my word for it,” Elaine said, stepping into the door beside Jim. “He has! He surely has!”
Desert Death-Song Page 23
