Snake Vengeance

by Philip Harbottle

  ‘The ante’s the Bar-6,’ he said, ‘and your alleged claim to the Double-L. That’s all we need to know. All right, let’s get started.’

  Larry said nothing. He was examining his cards. Makin studied his own hand, peered through narrowed eyes at his opponent for a moment, and then seemed to be trying to make his mind up.

  ‘Two,’ Larry said, and started the game.

  Makin began playing cautiously at first, apparently to make sure of the type of man he was dealing with; then gradually he took greater chances. He threw away possible tricks and instead took cards from the undealt pack. After a while a hard grin came to his features.

  ‘Triplets,’ he said, throwing them down.

  ‘A straight,’ Larry countered, announcing a trick higher, and he fanned his cards on to the table.

  ‘That lets you out, son,’ King said. ‘You’ve won the game. What about it, Makin?’

  Makin chewed his cheroot to the corner of his mouth. He seemed about to say something, but Larry cut him short.

  ‘We’re not giving the onlookers a run for their money, Mr Makin. I’ve won back the Bar-6, and I’m holding you to it, with these folks as witnesses. But I’m prepared to go on playing to give you a chance of beating me. Only sportsmanlike, I guess.’

  ‘For Pete’s sake, don’t be a dad-blamed fool!’ King cried. ‘You’ve got all you came for.’

  ‘Maybe, but it’s too soon to quit. I’ll raise the ante, Mr Makin. Five thousand dollars and the Bar-6. We don’t need chips to that value: that’s the stake, and these folks are witnesses.’

  ‘Have you got five thousand dollars if you lose?’ Makin snapped.

  Larry smiled. ‘I’ve got that and more in a bank at Austin. I sold up my property in London before moving out here.’ It was a bluff, he’d lived in rented accommodation, but Makin wasn’t to know that. ‘Anyway, I shan’t lose. Hand me the cards. My turn to deal.’

  Makin pushed them over, then he watched with startled eyes as they whirled and gyrated like leaves in Larry’s practised hands. One or two of the onlookers gasped and looked at one another. Such fancy shuffling had never been seen in the saloon before.

  ‘Right,’ Larry said at last. He dealt out five cards apiece, putting the remainder face down. ‘This is it, Mr Makin. You or I are going to finish up the richer by the Bar-6 and five thousand dollars. Your call.’

  There was a long pause, Makin biting hard on his cheroot as he studied his cards; then he began to smile. Eventually he laid his cards down slowly, and his smile widened.

  ‘Fours!’ he declared in triumph. ‘Beat that if you can!’

  Larry nodded, and laid down all his own five cards, a sequence in spades.

  ‘Royal straight flush,’ he said drily. ‘There’s no hand higher than that, Mr Makin.’

  Twice in the history of the Lucky Dollar gamblers had pulled off the near-impossible top trick in poker — and this was the third time. But for a civilized tenderfoot to have done it was something close to a miracle. For quite five seconds Makin stared fixedly, then he leapt to his feet and overturned the table in his fury.

  ‘You blasted, two-timing lily-white!’ he yelled. ‘You fixed the cards — ’

  Larry backed away, overturned whiskey pouring down his trousers. Then King sprang forward and seized Makin’s powerful arms, holding him back.

  ‘Lay off him, Makin,’ he snapped. ‘That was a straight trick — and you know it.’

  The lawyer breathed hard, fighting for control. Then, his swarthy face dark with rage, he swung to a nearby waiter.

  ‘Hey, Curly,’ he snapped. ‘Come here and pick up these cards. Count out fifty-two of them on the table and let’s see if they’re straight.’

  ‘Sure thing, Mr Makin.’

  The waiter did exactly as ordered, then he righted the table and counted out the fifty-two cards, each in their suits. At the finish there was no doubt. The pack was genuine enough.

  ‘Well?’ Larry asked quietly, holding his soaking trouser leg. ‘Satisfied, Mr Makin? I’ll trouble you for five thousand dollars and a deed transfer for the Bar-6.’

  ‘In the morning,’ Makin growled, making to turn away — but the barrier of people blocked his path.

  ‘We want it now,’ King stated flatly. ‘These folks here will see that we get it.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ somebody murmured. ‘Better do it, Cliff. You got yourself hogtied.’

  ‘All right,’ Makin replied, realizing he was cornered. ‘I’ll have to go along to my office.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ King said, yanking out his gun just in case. ‘Start walking.’

  Makin pushed his way through the crowd. As he did so he caught a grim look from the paunchy Sheriff Crawford, who had been watching the proceedings; but on this occasion, unless he wanted running clean out of office, there was nothing the ferret-eyed sheriff could do. Makin had cut his own throat.

  Larry turned a little as Val put a gentle hand on his arm.

  ‘Thanks, Larry,’ she said, her voice low. ‘If you don’t mind my calling you that?’

  ‘Sounds better than mister,’ he responded, smiling. ‘Glad I could help you. That lets you out with Makin, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Definitely. In any case I’d have had nothing to do with him henceforth, though — as I told you — you certainly know how to play poker.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Larry murmured, his voice low. ‘The hardest part was shuffling my straight flush so it began at the sixth card from the top of the deal. Nimble fingers can be useful sometimes.’

  He did not say any more, for the people were crowding in on him to shake hands and congratulate him. Most of the men and women seemed pleased that Makin, the self-assured gambler, had been smashed flat on his face for once. Larry took all the eulogies in his usual undemonstrative fashion; then he looked up as Makin reappeared, a deed and some high-denomination dollar bills in his hands, King with his gun right behind him.

  ‘There it is,’ Makin snapped, flinging the transfer deed on the table. ‘Made out to you, Ashfield. I fixed that in my office. You’ll find it’s legal enough. And here’s the five thousand dollars.’

  Larry picked up the deed and the money, and stuffed them in his pockets.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘All I’ve got to do now is to get this deed transferred again to Mr King — through a lawyer who can be trusted, which certainly doesn’t mean anybody in this town. Which means, Mr Makin, that your presence at the Bar-6 will not be welcome in future.’

  ‘Don’t give me orders,’ Makin breathed. ‘I’ll go where I like — and if you think I’ve finished with you, Val, you’re crazy.’

  ‘If you turn up again now that you no longer have control over the spread, I’ll have you thrown out,’ King said grimly, holstering his gun. Then he glanced at Val and Larry. ‘Let’s be going,’ he added, and led the way from the table.

  Makin watched them move, and then he glanced at some of the cowpunchers around him and nodded. Instantly things began to happen. King found himself suddenly seized from behind, and, powerful man though he was, he was impelled through the batwings at top speed and then carried along the street, helpless in the grip of four men.

  Larry, for his part, received a blow in the jaw that sent him staggering against the wall of the saloon. A second one nearly lifted him from his feet. Half-senseless, he was picked up between two of the men and carried in the wake of King down the street. Val, unable to do anything about the matter, stooped quickly and picked up the deeds and money that had fallen from Larry’s coat in his sudden collapse. She was about to push them in the inside pocket of her mackinaw when Makin’s hand closed over her wrist.

  ‘Thanks, Val, I’ll take those,’ he said briefly. ‘You don’t suppose I’m going to let Larry Ashfield get away with them, do you?’

  Val hesitated, then she found the money and deeds snatched from her fingers.

  ‘And I meant what I said about you and me,’ Makin added roughly, his free arm crushing about her slim waist.
Val gave a gasp and squirmed fiercely, but it did not save her from two revoltingly long kisses. Makin would probably have tried a third time, only her foot suddenly lashed out and kicked him hard on the shin. He gave a gasp as the point of the hard riding-boot bit into his flesh. Val went further, and kicked his other leg — then she shoved with all the power of her strong young arms.

  Makin stumbled backwards slightly, giving a yell as he saw Val whirling up an empty bottle from the table at her side. He was not quick enough to stop her bringing it down on his head with stinging force. His hat saved him from cuts but his senses reeled under the impact for a moment.

  Dishevelled and breathing hard, Val snatched the deeds and money still in Makin’s right hand and then dived for the batwings. Two of Makin’s cohorts tried to stop her but she dodged beneath their outflung arms and hurried outside. At the sight of four of Makin’s men returning up the main street, she felt quickly at her shoulder holster and pulled out a .32 automatic, levelling it.

  ‘Keep away from me,’ she ordered, circling the men carefully as they hesitated. ‘I’ll shoot if you try coming nearer.’

  They didn’t. They had sense enough to know that the daughter of Richard King must be a first-class markswoman — as indeed she was. So she got past them safely and then halted again at the vision of her father and Larry rising from the horse-trough and dripping water from head to foot.

  ‘What in — What happened?’ she gasped in alarm, reaching them.

  ‘Oh, just a little spite on Makin’s part,’ her father responded, wading out of the water to the dusty street. ‘You OK, Larry?’

  ‘Good enough,’ Larry assented, water dripping from his hair. ‘I guess I wasn’t much use when it came to fighting back. I’m just not used to it. I’m sorry.’

  ‘So am I,’ King growled. ‘If you’d have had the guts we could have plastered the walls with those guys.’ He looked his surprise as Val suddenly started to laugh.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologized, ‘only you both look so funny! Anyway, Larry, you got the ranch back and five thousand dollars, too — even if I did have a fight to retain it.’

  ‘Fight?’ Larry repeated, surprised. ‘Do you mean these low-downs actually fight girls, too?’

  ‘Not quite that.’ Val set her jaw. ‘Cliff tried to pin me down for his own gratification. He got in a couple of kisses, then I kicked the tar out of him and ran for it. He’d planned to get the deeds and money and put things back where they started. He failed, though, and he certainly won’t get another chance. I can still feel those filthy kisses of his.’

  ‘I’ve a mind to go right back in there and square things up for that,’ King breathed. ‘He’s got nothing on me any more, so … ’

  Val shrugged. ‘I dealt with it, Dad: not your job.’

  She gave Larry a meaning look, but he was not looking at her. He was squeezing water out of the hem of his coat.

  ‘We’d better get our horses and hit the trail for home,’ King said. ‘Soaked like this, we might catch cold in the night air. Let’s be moving.’

  They returned to their horses without molestation, and then began the ride back home. Evidently Makin had decided to call off the dogs for the moment. In fact, having failed in the initial attempt when the deeds were in his grasp, he probably realized he would never get the chance again. It was doubtful if the ordinary townsfolk — who had been taken by surprise when Makin’s supporters had acted — would permit a second similar attempt.

  ‘Do you suppose,’ Larry asked thoughtfully, as they rode along, ‘that I could handle difficult situations better if I had a good knowledge of gun-play? I mean, would it help me to make up the deficiency in my physical toughness?’

  ‘Might,’ King said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking. I ought to make Makin apologize for the way he treated you tonight, Val.’

  ‘I can do without that,’ she replied. ‘I don’t want you risking your neck trying to shoot it out with Makin.’

  ‘That’s not quite the point … ’ Larry rode on steadily for a while. ‘I don’t want to stay low down in your estimation, Val. I know exactly what you are thinking about me — and you are right. Somehow I’ve got to change your opinion.’

  ‘I’m willing to help you learn our ways,’ she responded. ‘I can’t give you courage, of course, but I can show you all the tricks as far as guns are concerned. Dad’s shown me every one of them, so I can pass it on. But, Larry, don’t get the idea that I think badly of you. After the way you played tonight — ’

  ‘That was nothing,’ Larry interrupted. ‘Just sleight of hand. What I have to do is be able to settle Makin completely if he continues to bother you.’

  ‘We’ll fix you up somehow,’ King declared. ‘Keep on staying with us, and in the end you’ll begin to wonder what there ever was to be afraid of.’

  3. Retribution

  For the time being, Larry elected to stay at the Bar-6. His offer to pay for his keep declined, he turned instead to doing whatever odd jobs were necessary, spending the rest of his time with Val whilst she gave him lessons in marksmanship and horse-riding. There seemed to be nothing of which she was afraid. She had all the vigour and freshness of the great spaces in which she had been reared — yet she still managed to stay feminine.

  Each day she selected one particular spot about a mile from the ranch, where, in peace, she and Larry could indulge in gunfire without the fear of panicking any of the Bar-6 steers. And, by degrees, Larry’s aim began to improve. At the end of a week — which had been remarkably peaceful as far as incursions by Cliff Makin were concerned — he was a passably good shot with a .45.

  ‘I’ve a long way to go before I’m anywhere near as good as you, Val,’ he confessed, as they took a rest at the side of the trail.

  ‘Don’t be too sure,’ the girl replied, her eyes fixed on the cobalt sky. ‘You’re coming along nicely. The point is, Larry, does the handling of a gun make you feel any more confident?’

  ‘Not really.’ Larry sighed. ‘But I’ve made up my mind that I’m not going back home. I’m staying out here to try and reclaim my inheritance.’

  ‘I’m glad of that,’ the girl said, gripping his arm. Their eyes met for a moment, then Larry looked away, almost shyly.

  ‘Hence my learning how to handle a gun,’ he said. ‘I have two matters to take up with Makin. One is an apology to you, and the other is my inheritance. If I can get him at the point of a gun, maybe I’ll be able to manage something. Just a few more days; then I’ll try my luck. Incidentally, I’m surprised he hasn’t been round to pester you again.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s finally got the message I gave him in the saloon. Anyway, whatever the explanation, the longer he stays away the better. Now, come on: you’ve a lot more practice to do.’

  So Larry continued to learn under the girl’s expert tuition, and three days later, after breakfast, he rode into town with a .45 at his hip, fully prepared to try and knock some of the conceit out of Makin, and also make him admit that he had pulled a legal double-cross in regard to the Double-L spread.

  Larry, however, was something of a pot lion. As long as he had stayed away from the town and had Val’s encouragement, he had felt he could move mountains. Now, tying his horse to the rail outside Makin’s office, he was plagued by doubts.

  He looked about him at the busy boardwalks, the wagons and horsemen moving up and down the street. Then, his hand on the .45, he strode up the steps to Makin’s office. Here and there a curious glance was cast at him. In his grey suit and soft hat he was still remembered as the ‘dude’, the tenderfoot who had beaten the best card-player in town at poker.

  With his hand on the knob of the outer door, Larry hesitated, suddenly assailed by doubts as to his ability to subdue the powerful Makin.

  ‘Well, if it ain’t the paleface dude!’

  Larry started and turned. Two punchers had come up behind him on the boardwalk. Dimly he remembered having seen their faces in the Lucky Dollar — two of Makin’s henchmen!<
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  ‘Want a word with the boss?’ asked the one who had spoken.

  ‘Sure he does,’ the other said, grinning widely. ‘What’s stopping you stridin’ into the office, pantie-waist? Feelin’ kinda leery at meetin’ the boss?’

  ‘I’ve finished my business with him,’ Larry said quickly, and turned to go but the nearer cowpuncher caught his arm and swung him back.

  ‘No, you don’t, yeller belly! You can’t have seen the boss — he told us he’d fix you good if he ever saw you in town again — and right now you’re still standin’! Git in there an’ see him! ’

  Seized by the collar of his jacket, Larry was dragged into the office as the door was flung open for him. He came up with a gasp against the tall filing-cabinet, the two punchers lounging in after him. At the roll-top, Cliff Makin looked up in astonishment, then grinned round his cheroot.

  ‘We found him outside tryin’ to make up his mind whether to come in or not so we did it for him, boss,’ one of the punchers said contemptuously.

  ‘You did right.’ Makin was almost purring. Then he added more sharply: ‘What brought you boys here?’

  ‘Just bringing these reports from the Double-L,’ said the second man, handing them over.

  ‘From my ranch, you mean,’ Larry said, straightening up.

  ‘Shut your mouth!’ Makin glared at him and then tossed the papers on his desk. ‘I’m glad you two jiggers are here — it’ll save me the job of fixing this guy! Since he evidently didn’t get out of the district when I told him to, the only way is to make him too ashamed to stop.’

  Larry’s hand twitched to get at his .45, only he didn’t have the nerve with the eyes of the three men fixed on him. Then Makin came out from behind his desk.

  ‘Since you haven’t left, you’ve no doubt muscled in nicely with Val King. Taken her from me, in fact. Having lost my hold on her when I lost the deeds to the Bar-6, there didn’t seem much point in looking her up too soon. Now I’m intending to take action — starting with eradicating you before you cramp my style too much.’