The Fifth Western Novel

by Walter A. Tompkins

  Lon Perry suddenly reversed his rifle and struck Clay cruelly on the kidney. The force of the blow knocked him off balance. Because the two ropes held him tight, his feet went out from under him. He flung out his hands wildly to break his fall, but they did little good. He tipped forward, striking his head on the ground. Momentarily stunned, he dangled, feet in the air, while the two Arrow men sweated and dug their boot heels into the ground to keep him there.

  “Hold him, boys!” Elkhart shouted. “Take a turn with him, Hagen.”

  Rubbing the raw knuckles of his hands, Hagen came lumbering up. He caught Clay by the hair, jerked him upright and smashed him in the face. The power of the blow knocked him backwards. Desperately he fought for balance, but pinwheeled between the ropes, striking the back of his head on the ground. He tried to right himself but Hagen came in and kicked him in the ribs. Pain and savage anger knifed through Clay. He tried to grab Hagen by a leg, but the big man only laughed and hit him again.

  Clay sagged on the ropes, bent over, dazedly watching a bright pattern in the dust. He realized numbly that it was his blood. He was aware of Nina’s screaming, but the sound barely penetrated the captive thunder that roared inside his skull.

  They hauled him upright and when he tried to fight Hagen slashed him in the face. Again and again he tried to meet Hagen’s rush, but each time the pair with the ropes jerked him off balance. Finally he went down hard. The world tilted at a crazy angle and seemed very strange like a place he had never seen before. They pulled him upright.

  As he stood there, nearly out on his feet, he saw that Hagen and Lon Perry had mounted their horses. The ends of the two ropes were passed to them.

  Perry lolled in the saddle, grinning. “How are you at running a footrace, Janner?”

  Clay swayed, shaking his head, trying to clear it. His body was one big bruise. His head ached intolerably.

  “That Mex ran pretty far that day,” Elkhart said. “But he couldn’t catch a horse. Too bad.”

  Nina tried to claw free of Elkhart’s arm. “You’ll kill him!” she sobbed.

  “When we’re through with him you can sit on his lap till there’s four feet of ice in hell—”

  “Please, Byrd,” Nina begged. “Don’t do this.”

  “I loved you for years, Nina,” Elkhart said in a choked voice. “When you married Alford I gave up. Then when he went to Mexico and didn’t come back I saw a chance. I even sent that man to you with Joe’s watch so you’d think he was dead.” He scowled down at her. “I wouldn’t have you now. Not after finding you with a no-good like Janner.”

  “But you’re wrong, Byrd. It wasn’t like you thought—”

  “I tell you I saw you through the glasses.”

  Clay gripped the two ropes, trying to ease the pressure at his waist. His ribs ached and the flesh at his waistline had been rubbed raw by the hemp. He saw big Russ Hagen sitting high in the saddle, and fifteen yards to his left, Lon Perry. They dallied the ropes around their saddle horns.

  “Let’s get movin’,” Lon Perry said, and they started their horses down canyon at a walk.

  Clay lurched along behind them, helpless, his throat dry. And in him the terror that comes with certainty of death began to grow. Here on this clear warm day they meant to kill him.

  The pace increased and soon the horses were at a lope, hauling Clay at a run behind them. In his high-heeled boots on the uneven ground it was hard to maintain balance. Frantically he tried to keep up with them. He knew what would happen once the horses went into a gallop. He’d be forced to run faster and faster, fighting for balance. And finally he would lose it altogether.

  A picture of a rider he had once seen dragged by a frightened horse flashed before his eyes. The rider’s face had been unrecognizable, and so was the rest of him.

  As he fought desperately to hang onto the ropes, he saw the spurs dig in. The horses jerked him into a dead run. His legs scissored in great frantic strides. Within a dozen yards he lost his grip on the ropes. It seemed that a great and sudden weight pressed at the back of his head, tipping him toward the ground. In another moment he would be pinwheeling at the end of the ropes. And that would send him crashing headfirst to the ground.

  But then he saw Hagen rear up in the saddle. Hagen swayed, flung up his right hand high as if to peer at his armpit. A sudden wash of redness showed there, and the sharp crack of a rifle reached them. Hagen pitched loosely to the ground and his horse veered, pulling Clay off his feet. Before the horse could drag him it went down. Another rifle report reverberated in the canyon.

  Shaken as he was, Clay managed to get to his knees. He stayed there, sobbing for breath. Lon Perry had reined in his own mount and was peering back down the canyon, back toward Elkhart and Nina. Hagen began to stir on the ground. The man sat up and stared dazedly at a bleeding right arm. He looked sick from bullet shock.

  Gradually Clay’s eyes focused. He saw Lon Perry raise his hands in the air. And there on the slope behind Perry was Sam Lennox. Sam, the black-bearded hand Clay had picked up at the border. Sam was holding a rifle on Lon Perry.

  “Get on down there by Elkhart,” Sam Lennox said and rode a dun horse out of the brush. He nodded at Clay. “You just set there, boss. We’ll come back for you directly.”

  Clay saw Sam Lennox herding Lon Perry and the wounded Hagen on down the canyon. Hagen was riding double with Perry. He sagged in the saddle, holding his bad arm.

  Now Clay could see that Elkhart had released Nina. The woman had quickly got away from him. The thing that surprised Clay the most was seeing Kate French standing behind Elkhart, a rifle trained on the man’s back. Her face under the dark hair seemed very pale, but very firm.

  “I hated to shoot a horse,” Kate said, “but I wasn’t going to stand by and see you drag Clay Janner to pieces.”

  Elkhart jerked around and glared at Kate. “You horning in like this, puts you on the other side of my fence. See that you stay there!”

  Then Sam Lennox came up, herding Perry and the wounded Hagen. Elkhart shook his fist at Lennox. “I’ll remember this day, friend. If you’ve got the brains of a gnat you’ll clear out of New Mexico!”

  “Unbuckle your gunbelt and shut up,” Lennox ordered. “I oughta kill you for what you done to the boss.”

  Elkhart swore, but under the threat of the man’s rifle he did as he was told. And in addition to Lennox there was Kate French standing there coolly with a rifle. And he seemed to know from the look in her eye that she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him.

  Lon Perry, holding the wounded Hagen in the saddle in front of him, seemed reluctant to part with his gun. But at last he unfastened his gunbelt and let the rig fall to the ground. Lennox got his rifle from the boot and also Hagen’s gun. Then he lifted a rifle from Elkhart’s saddle.

  “Janner got lucky today,” Lon Perry told Kate. “His luck won’t hold. Not worth a damn it won’t!”

  “Kate, you’ve only postponed the inevitable,” Elkhart said. “Clay Janner will hang before the month is out!”

  Hagen appeared to realize for the first time what was going on. Blood dripped off the ends of his fingers. He looked around. “You goin’ to let ’em spoil our fun?” he demanded of Elkhart.

  “Oh, God,” Elkhart groaned. “Let’s get out of here. If you lose that arm you can thank Kate French and her black-bearded friend!”

  After that, Elkhart led his men up the slanting trail to the rim and then into the junipers. Only when the sound of their passing had faded did Kate lower her rifle. Her hands left streaks of moisture on the weapon.

  “Thank God, Kate,” Nina sobbed, finding her voice for the first time. “How in the world did you find us?”

  “I rode over to your place today just as you left,” Kate said. “I followed you. I hoped to keep you from doing something foolish with Clay Janner.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Kate. Clay is�
��”

  “Let’s get him out of here,” Kate said. They rode to the spot where Sam Lennox was tending Clay. Lennox had pulled the ropes off him. Clay’s nose was smashed, his mouth cut. Kate shuddered at the marks of the beating.

  “Thank God I had presence of mind enough to ask Sam Lennox to ride with me,” Kate said. “I guess I was afraid to ride alone. This country isn’t exactly the safest place for a woman.”

  Clay said, “You get back to the ranch, Sam. I’ll be along directly.”

  “You all right, boss?” Lennox said anxiously.

  Clay nodded. Lennox argued that he should stick around, but Clay was worried about the herd. Elkhart would move fast now.

  After Lennox left, Kate gave Clay a severe look. “What if Joe Alford finds out you were here with Nina today?”

  “He’ll find out,” Clay said, and every word sent a vibrating jolt of pain up into his broken, blocked nose. “Elkhart will spread the word.”

  “Then get out of the country,” Kate said. “Before you and Joe get into a gunfight over this.”

  Clay shook his head, took a step toward his horse, and passed out cold.

  CHAPTER 16

  Clay was awakened by the murmur of voices. He jerked up his head, grimaced with pain. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, surprised to find he was in a bedroom. There were curtains at the windows. A woman’s scent lingered in the room. He stirred in the big bed where he lay and realized that cool sheets touched his bare skin. He managed to get to his elbows. His clothing lay on a chair.

  The voices came nearer. Kate French entered the room. An old man followed her in. Clay pulled up the blankets, feeling embarrassed at his nakedness.

  “Clay, this is Charlie Snow,” Kate said. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Clay nodded at the old man but looked at Kate. It was the first time he had ever seen her in a dress. She seemed younger, more feminine. Pretty, by God. She must have sensed his interest, for her dark blue eyes showed pleasure.

  She went out, closing the door. Charlie Snow padded up on his moccasins. “Ain’t got but a minute, Janner. I’m headin’ out. So you pay attention. Elkhart hired me and I done what he paid me for—”

  “I don’t understand,” Clay said.

  Snow lifted a wrinkled brown hand. “When Elkhart first settled in these parts a lot of my wife’s people still lived here. Them he couldn’t run off, he killed. I been waitin’ years to get even with him. So—”

  Kate rushed into the room. “Clay, Joe Alford is outside! He’s drunk and wearing a gun!”

  “Send him in. I’ll talk sense to him.”

  “You can’t talk sense to a crazy man. Elkhart has spread a vile story about you—” She broke off, glancing at Charlie Snow’s impassive, leather-brown face.

  “I heard all about it,” Snow said. “It’s another thing I got against Elkhart. What he can’t have himself, he’ll ruin for everybody else.”

  Clay sat up in bed, and the covers fell away from his bare chest. “Kate, get me a gun.”

  Charlie Snow padded to the door. “I’ll go and try to get him to cool his ornery temper.”

  He went out. Clay started to climb out of the bed, then ducked back under the covers. Kate smiled faintly. His face flamed as he considered the implications.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I didn’t undress you. A man did.”

  When she left the room he frowned at her manner. She seemed so completely different. Mellow. His stiffened fingers fumbled at buttons. His head ached and his whole face seemed to be one big bruise. A mirror above a chest of drawers caught his eye. Studying his reflection, he wondered if he would ever look the same again. His nose had a dent in the midst of its swollen mass. The cuts on forehead and cheeks, doctored with arnica, might leave scars.

  He buckled on his gunbelt, glanced at his empty holster. Then he went searching for Kate. He heard the muffled clop-clop of horses moving out of the yard.

  Outside, he found Joe Alford face down in the dirt. There was a gash on the back of Alford’s head. A gun lay near his outstretched fingers. Some of Kate’s riders were squatting on their heels, surveying the prone exhibit with solid satisfaction. Kate put them in motion with a crisp order.

  “Get him to the bunkhouse,” she said. “Tie him down until he sobers up.”

  She turned to Clay, looking scared. “He was going to shoot you on sight. Charlie Snow got behind him and hit him.”

  Clay teetered numbly on his trembling legs. He looked around the yard. “Where is Snow?”

  “He left. Heading south with his wife into the Mogollons where Elkhart can never find him.”

  Clay fingered his chin and winced. “What in hell was he trying to tell me in the house?”

  “Something about a man named Baldy Renson,” Kate said. “That’s all I know. Clay, you should get back to bed and save your strength.”

  “Baldy Renson,” Clay murmured, and felt a chill in the pit of his stomach. “I’ve got to get out of here!”

  Kate’s men carried Joe Alford off to the bunkhouse. Now Clay and Kate were alone in the yard. She tried to argue him into staying. He wouldn’t hear of that, but he did agree to let her cook him a meal.

  In the big kitchen of the ranch house she fried him a steak and eggs and plied him with black coffee laced with whisky. The meal and the coffee helped stir life into him once again.

  “I sort of got off on the wrong foot with you, Kate,” he said. “I’m glad we’re friends now.”

  “So am I,” she said, and blushed. She sat across from him at the table. She had gotten a revolver and given it to him. The gun had belonged to her brother. Armed again, he felt almost whole.

  But something in Kate’s eyes disturbed him. She seemed to be searching his face for the answer to an unvoiced question.

  “I’m not very pretty,” he said, and ran a hand over his bruised jaw.

  “I don’t care what you look like,” she whispered.

  A sense of panic swept over him, as he felt invisible bonds tightening. This was no time to become involved with a girl. He sat up straighter and reached for the bottle and poured more whisky into his coffee. His head was swimming pleasantly, but he knew he had to end this thing now.

  “How’d you get me here?” he asked. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “Nina and I held you in the saddle.”

  “Nina’s a lonely woman,” he said, and forced a laugh. “Why, for a while she figured she wanted to run off with me. That shows how crazy a woman can get.”

  “I know,” Kate agreed. “All women are a little crazy when it comes to some certain man.”

  He felt the panic mount. “I made Nina come to her senses. Not that she wouldn’t have anyway, but—” He looked away. “Well, I told her I was in love with you. I hope you don’t mind, Kate.”

  “So she said,” Kate snapped, and got to her feet. “No, I don’t mind if you’d lie about a thing like that.” Her voice trembled. “Any lie is sufficient if it’ll save a woman from making a fool of herself.”

  She started to leave the room, but he came out of the chair and caught her by a wrist. She yanked hard and freed herself. “I won’t stand for you manhandling me like you did that day at Spade!”

  “Kate, I—” His brain whirled dizzily and he supposed it was due to the pounding he had taken that day. Or was it something else? He heard himself say, “Kate, maybe if I’m lucky and can sell my half of the herd—”

  “You can go to Montana,” she said icily. “There’s free grass and no woman to tie you down.” She rubbed her wrist as if she were wiping off something his fingers had left. “I understand there’s a cattle buyer in Reeder Wells looking for beef. His name is Ruskin. Maybe you can make a deal with him.”

  Then she whirled, her skirts whipping about her legs. As she fled the room he had an impression of inswept waist, o
f full hips undulating. At the door she paused to look back at him and he saw the heaving upthrust of her breasts. Her eyes were wet. Then she was gone, slamming the door behind her.

  “Kate!”

  He started after her, then stopped. He thought: This is what you want, damn it. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? On the move. Take your fun, make a little money, spend it.

  Snatching the bottle of whisky from the table, he went to the bunkhouse. Kate’s crew were lolling around, talking about Joe Alford and all that had happened. Alford lay roped to the bunk. He was conscious. As Clay came up he saw the intense hatred in Alford’s eyes.

  “Listen, Joe,” Clay said, “you’ve got to believe—”

  Alford called him a name Clay would never have taken from another man. White-faced, he handed the bottle to one of Kate’s men.

  “Give him this bottle,” he said. “When it’s empty, give him another. It’s the only thing he’s got left. He hasn’t got the guts to fight for his wife. He hasn’t got the guts to fight for his pride or for anything.”

  He went out into the yard and with his sore and aching fingers he managed to saddle his horse. Then he rode for Reeder Wells and he didn’t look back. If he had, he would have seen Kate French at the window.

  CHAPTER 17

  Byrd Elkhart glared across the small jail office at Bert Lynden. The sheriff squirmed in his swivel chair, his fleshless face losing color under the rancher’s burning gaze. The air in the room smelled stale, musty. In better years a deputy kept the office open, but recently the county had seen fit to keep the place closed, save for the periods when Lynden came down from the county seat.