Dance With A Gunfighter

by JoMarie Lodge

  The crowd turned surly, cursing and shoving.

  As two hours slipped by and Miss Crabtree didn’t appear the air crackled with anger. More exhausted than ever, and a little dizzy, Gabe continued to make her way through the crowd, listening for talk of Tanner. To her dismay, she heard nothing. She feared that in the time lost waiting for a chance to leave without McLowry noticing, Tanner had traveled on.

  She stood still and ran her hand over her brow, trying to shake the lethargy that weighed her down. Maybe, finally, she could go home again. She had tried. She may have failed... again...but at least she had tried.

  The marshal, a tall, burly man with a walrus mustache, shoved his way to the front of the crowd and stood on a barrel to address them. "The owner of the Bird Cage has asked me to give you lunkheads some advice. He’s been saying all along that Lotta Crabtree ain’t going to show up here. But you boys are so loco you won’t listen to him. You can stay here all night if you want to, but that won’t make her pop up out of thin air. On the other hand, you can come inside and see a terrific show called He Done Her Wrong starring Miss Gail Sawyer and Mr. John Dunne."

  The crowd booed, hissed and threw bottles and newspapers at the marshal. He jumped off the barrel, raised his arms and was about to shout some orders when he was hit from the side with a bucket of slop. He barreled into the crowd after the man who threw it. Guns were fired into the air, and shouts were everywhere.

  Quickly, people ran toward Allen Street to join in the fight. Gabe went in the opposite direction, disgusted by all she’d seen. She turned down a side street to get away from the crowd, to find the livery and Maggie, and go home. Lurking in the shadows, a lanky figure she’d recognize anywhere headed her way. She ducked into a doorway.

  Before reaching her, Luke Murdock ran up an outside stairway to the second floor of a rooming house and knocked on the door. A woman with long, frizzy red hair streaming over her shoulders, a loosely belted shiny green robe, and a stark white patch over one eye, opened the door and let him in.

  Gabe watched in both shock and terror. If Murdock was still here, the elusive Tanner might not be too far away. Her heart pounded so hard she feared it might stop. She had to find him--and not lose Murdock while she was at it.

  She ran to the livery to get her horse and then rode her back to the spot she’d left Murdock. She crawled under the stairs that led to the red-haired woman’s room, trying to get far back into the dark so that the people wandering around wouldn’t notice her. Fights and screams continued throughout the night, yet she sat, trance-like, not letting herself think about anything else as she waited for Murdock to re-emerge.

  Dawn’s first light washed the streets when she heard footsteps descending on the wooden stairs. She snapped open her eyes to see Murdock strolling along the side of the building. He was there, right in front of her. With fingers numb from the cold night air and the long wait, she lifted her rifle and peered through the sight at him. But as quickly as she did, she lowered it again. If she followed him, he might lead her to Tanner. She could get them both and this nightmare, this living hell, would be over.

  She mounted and followed him to the livery stable on Sixth Street. Emerging on a dun, he rode off at a good clip eastward, away from town.

  She followed at a fair distance. He and Tanner must have a hideout near Tombstone, she thought. That would explain why she kept hearing rumors of them being nearby, but no one ever seemed to know where they stayed, or why they’d appear and then vanish into thin air.

  Murdock rode like a man without a care in the world. For nearly two hours, as the sun rose, they kept going, Murdock ahead and Gabe far behind him. Although they headed straight toward a cluster of mountains, the open desert was a bad place to try to trail someone. The vistas were too great, and Gabe had to carefully keep to the low ripples of the land not to be noticed.

  When Murdock reached the mountains and turned up into them, Gabe lost him. She was desperate and urged her horse ahead, faster and farther. She feared catching up to him, but she feared losing him altogether even more. The rock hard ground held no prints that she could see.

  She rode deeper into the mountain. The brush was high, not low as it was on the desert floor, and a few trees clung to the hillside. For over two hours she searched, cursing herself the whole while. Then, finally, she spotted a small gray cabin perched on a flat ledge. Beside it was a narrow corral with a dun that looked like the one Murdock had been riding. No other horses and no signs of life were nearby.

  She wondered how close she could get without Murdock seeing her. She had no way of knowing whether he was asleep now or had slept at his woman friend’s place and so was wide awake.

  After tying Maggie to a pinyon, she pulled her rifle from the scabbard, and began a slow climb along the hillside toward the cabin. She didn’t follow a straight line, but instead went down the mountain to a spot directly below the cabin, then climbed straight up the steep slope to it. If Murdock were looking out the window or standing at the door, she’d be out of his line of sight.

  She slung the rifle strap over her shoulder and carefully began her upward ascent, clinging to the smooth boulders with her fingers. As she neared the clear area below the cabin, she was particularly quiet. A part of her couldn’t believe that she’d gotten this close to the man, or that the fourth piece of her revenge was near to being fulfilled. Her knees were rubbery with fear, but she couldn’t back down now. Somehow, she’d succeed. She’d get her vengeance.

  She was trying to hoist herself onto a ledge from a steep incline when she heard the crunch of shoe leather on small rocks.

  She glanced up. Luke Murdock stood at the top of the hill, his rifle pointed at her. "No!" she shouted.

  He took aim and fired.

  o0o

  Upon arriving in Tombstone, McLowry rode straight to the Crystal Palace Saloon.

  "Where’s Clara?" he demanded of the bartender.

  "Sharon!" the man yelled. "Get Clara down here."

  "Tell her I don’t give a damn how she looks," McLowry bellowed. "Just get her here fast."

  Sharon raised her eyebrows and hurried up the stairs.

  McLowry gulped down a straight whiskey, and in a little while Clara appeared at the top of the stairs. She took one look at him and turned around. He bolted up the stairs after her, reaching her before she made it back into her room. He grabbed her arm and spun her toward him, then shoved her back against the wall. "McLowry! Let go of me!"

  "Where’s Tanner?"

  "How should I know? God, I thought you were dead! I wept my eyes out for you, Jess!"

  "Give it a rest, Clara. You’re lucky I don’t wring your neck, and I will, if you don’t cut the crap and tell me where to find Tanner. I know you know him. You’re just his type."

  She touched his chest with one finger. "I’m your type, too, Jess. Remember?"

  He grabbed her hand in his, nearly crushing it. "I’m in no mood for games. I’m trying to save someone’s life."

  Clara lifted an eyebrow. "Not that young chit you were traveling with?"

  "Yes...that young chit. The one you nearly got killed sending Blackie Lane after her."

  "Killed?" she paled. "I didn’t want her killed--"

  "Tell me where to find Tanner."

  She winced, but whether it was from his tone, his look, or the way he held her, he didn’t know or care. He squeezed her hand tighter.

  "All right!" she cried.

  He let go of her hand.

  "Tanner’s got a hideout somewhere near here. In the hills. I don’t...wait. One-Eyed Pearl has been keeping time with Tanner’s partner, Murdock, for years. She would know where their hideout is."

  "Where can I find this One-Eyed Pearl?"

  She tightened her lips defiantly.

  He pressed his hand to her face, his fingers against her cheek while his thumb hooked under her jaw and pressed against her throat. The back of her head hit the wall as he tilted her head upward. He could kiss her or crush or thro
at. It all depended on her answer.

  Her eyes widened. "I’ll show you," she whispered.

  They left the Crystal Palace and hurried to a side street. Pearl opened the door just a crack, enough for McLowry to see a shock of curly red hair and lips and a cheek that were black and blue and swollen. "Go away," she murmured.

  "Hold it." He put his foot against the door to stop her from closing it.

  Clara peered over his shoulder so that Pearl could see her. "It’ll just take a minute, Pearl."

  Pearl’s one eye bobbed from one to the other, then she opened the door and stepped aside. Her face was not only black-and-blue, but also aged beyond her years. He suspected she wasn’t yet out of her twenties, but drink and poor living had made her skin sallow and puffy. She shrugged a green robe upward to cover the shoulder it had slid from, but not before he noticed her pendulous breasts and soft, flabby arms.

  Clara stared at her. "What happened to you?"

  "I walked into a door." She lightly patted her split lip.

  "A door called Luke Murdock?" McLowry asked.

  Pearl gripped Clara’s arm. Her voice quivered. "I never said nothing about Murdock."

  "We won’t tell him." Clara patted her hand. "What happened?"

  Pearl dropped into a chair in front of the vanity. "He was mad that Lotta Crabtree didn’t show up. He was convinced she’d have taken one look and fallen for him. As the night went on, he kept drinking, getting madder that he was with an old one-eyed whore instead of the beautiful Lotta. That was just an excuse, though."

  "Damn him!" Clara cried. "Did you see a doctor?"

  "No need, Clara. This ain’t the first time he done this to me. Probably won’t be the last."

  "I’ve got to find him, Pearl," McLowry said.

  She shook her head. "I recognize you, gunfighter. I thought you was dead. Anyways, Will Tanner wants you dead. Murdock’ll gladly kill you for him. I shouldn’t even talk to you."

  "I’m not about to tell him."

  "It don’t matter. He’ll find out. He always does."

  McLowry stepped closer. "I’m sorry about what he did to you, Pearl." He put on his most gentlemanly Southern accent. "I won’t tell anyone I’ve been here, and neither will Clara." He glared at Clara until she nodded in agreement. "It’s just that I’ve got to know how to find Murdock and Tanner’s hideout."

  She poured herself a whiskey. The way she looked and smelled, it was clear she’d had plenty already. "Or what? You’ll beat me? Or, will you shoot me?" She tossed back the whiskey in one gulp.

  He gently took her hand and crouched in front of her, eye level. She tried not to look at him, but the force of his gaze drew her back again. "There’s a young woman bent on killing Tanner," he began. "If she can’t find him here in town, she might go after Murdock. I need to find them first."

  Through the fog of pain, self-pity and whiskey, Pearl seemed to hear his words with interest. "A young woman?"

  He stroked her hand. "She’s no match for a man like him. I’ve got to help her--if it’s not too late. Please, Pearl. Help me."

  A shudder went through the woman, but then she shook her head.

  "Think of it, Pearl," he urged, his voice soft and gentle. "Think of what men like Tanner and Murdock would do if they got their hands on a girl like that. Is that what you want to have happen? Is that what you want on your conscience?"

  She pulled her hand from him. "You are a sweet-talker, McLowry...I mean, whoever you are." She put her hands on her knees, her head hanging, and heaved a sigh. "All right. I’ll tell you how to find his place."

  o0o

  As McLowry climbed the mountain, he knew he must be close to the cabin that Pearl had described. Hearing a sound, he stopped and dismounted. He held his horse’s muzzle quiet as he listened.

  It was another horse. He could just make out the bored stamping and snorting of the animal. He tied his own horse, then crouching, ran toward the sounds.

  He stopped short when he recognized Maggie. He approached cautiously, knowing someone might be watching her, waiting for her owner to return.

  A jackrabbit scurrying through the brush made McLowry reach for his gun.

  He found small boot prints. Damn it, Gabe, he thought, why did you do this? More than anything else, the surrounding, invasive silence of the mountain shook him.

  Her footprints soon disappeared on the rocky terrain. Continuing forward, at a ridge, he caught a glimpse of the cabin clinging to a small, flat plateau.

  Although it would take longer, McLowry decided to climb up to the top of the plateau from where he was, circle around behind the cabin, and then ease himself down to it.

  The quiet of the cabin and the area around it sent a chill through him. Imagining Gabe in there with Will Tanner made his footsteps surer as he climbed up the mountain. Quietly, he crossed the slippery crest, and quickly, he descended.

  He crept to a small, dirt-encrusted window. Using an old trick, he put his hat on the barrel of his gun and slowly raised it in front of the window. Better the hat, rather than his head, be blown away by someone waiting in the cabin.

  The hat wasn’t shot at.

  McLowry darted in front of the window and tried to peer inside. He couldn’t see a thing through the dirt. If Gabe were in there, why was it so quiet? And if she wasn’t, then where was she?

  He crawled to the door. Crouching low, his six-shooter ready, he reached for the doorknob.

  In one swift movement, he turned the knob, pushed the door open and hurled himself inside. The cabin was empty. But wood in the cookstove was still warm, and the smell of coffee still hung in the air. Murdock or Tanner or both had been here. The question was, where were they now...and where was Gabe?

  He heard the crunch of dried mesquite leaves outside and dove for cover even before turning to see if the sound was his imagination or true danger. A bullet hit the wall where his head had been a split second earlier. He spun around and fired three shots at the spot he’d seen the rifle fire.

  All was quiet. Then he heard the clatter of a rifle falling, followed by the thud of a body.

  Suddenly the thought struck him that it could have been Gabe out there. That she might have thought he was Tanner or Murdock and had fired. He might have killed her. If he had...

  Scarcely breathing, he eased toward the door and looked out. On the ground near the mesquite tree, Luke Murdock lay on his back, his eyes open and glassy. Blood stained the center of his shirt.

  Nearly staggering with relief, McLowry scanned the outside area for any sign that Tanner was near. He waited, then darted out of the cabin to a water barrel and ducked behind it. All remained quiet. It bothered him that Tanner wasn’t around. He walked over to Murdock who was already dead. Only one set of tracks led to this spot--Murdock’s. If Gabe were alive, wouldn’t he have her with him?

  There was only one logical explanation to finding Gabe’s horse, and now only a single set of tracks, but he refused to accept it.

  His shoulders felt as if a heavy weight were pushing down on them. He stared at the landscape, at the quiet rugged mountainside, and at the wide, blue sky beyond. But he stared without seeing, without hearing the birds, or smelling the sage and saguaro. The world spiraled away from him and became small, as if he were looking at it from the wrong side of a field glass.

  She isn’t dead. She can’t be. "Gabe!" he roared.

  He stood on the ledge overlooking the high plateau area and cupped his hands around the sides of his mouth. "Gabe!"

  Silence answered.

  Wildly, he searched for tracks all around the house, tracks that showed two people had been there, but the only tracks he found were Murdock’s. Not even another set of man’s footprints. He wondered if Tanner had been here at all.

  If Gabe hadn’t made it as far as the cabin, then she had to be out there on the mountain--somewhere between her horse and the spot where he now stood.

  He tore through the mountainside in a straight line toward her horse, frantically sear
ching, scanning the ground, the area above and below the path he took, calling her name over and over until his voice was raw. Tall, red boulders jutted out of the earth and he carefully skirted around them, toward the place he’d last seen her footprints.

  As the sun sank lower, he knew he had little time left. The proportions of the mountain seemed to grow more monstrous and more desolate as shadows lengthened. He remembered her words about hating to be alone in the desert at night, how afraid it used to make her. A chill went through him.

  I’ll find you, Gabe.

  Something glinted in the fading sunlight on a flat ledge a few feet below him. A rifle shell.

  His fingers shook as he lifted and turned it. It showed no weathering at all. He squeezed it, wanting to crush the evil thing with his bare hands. Murdock had stood here...stood here and fired.

  McLowry shuddered, then slammed the shell to the ground.

  He forced himself to think clearly. If Murdock had stood on the ledge and Gabe had been climbing up the mountain, she’d have been quite a bit below the area where McLowry had searched so far. He climbed downward, hoping, yet fearing, to find her.

  His heart began to hammer when he spotted a rockslide. Directly above it was the spot where he’d found Murdock’s rifle shell. He looked down the mountain. The slide area seemed to go on forever, then dropped out of sight. Cold gripped him.

  He kept to the side of the slide as he slipped and half-crawled his way straight down the mountain, edging the loose rocks as if they were a waterfall.

  He climbed down farther, endlessly it seemed, until suddenly he stopped, feeling the life drain out of him. Far below, looking like a child’s broken doll, lying in a pool of blood, was Gabe’s body.

  Chapter 28

  McLowry ran and slid the rest of the way down the mountain. Gabe lay on her stomach, her arms over her head. Against her side and on top of her were rocks that had been loosened by her fall and had dropped down the hill behind her.

  He touched her hand. It felt warm. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, stroking her face, feeling the soft breath from her nose and mouth. Praying thanks to a God he’d been sure no longer existed, he furiously pushed back the sand and gravel from her side, leg and arm. One side of her face and head were matted in blood and he quickly found the spot where a bullet had grazed her skull. The bleeding had stopped.