“Personal, hell! We both know damn well that King sent for him to go after you!”
Yancey nodded. “Sure. But I doubt we’d ever prove it.”
Jarrett stepped aside and Yancey walked past him and into the street. Jarrett followed and they faced each other in the bright sunshine as townspeople stopped to stare. Will Benbow stood uncertainly in the doorway of the bootmaker’s shop.
Jarrett looked Yancey up and down, then turned and walked away some twenty paces. Turning he flexed his hands and nodded.
“Anytime you’re ready.”
People lined the walks. Others hurried excitedly down the street towards the two men facing each other.
“You’re being used, Jarrett,” Yancey said. “King wants me dead, but he doesn’t want to get his hands bloodied. If he can blame someone else, he figures it’ll keep Governor Dukes off his back. You’re bein’ played for a sucker.”
“Are you tryin’ to talk to me to death?” Jarrett said, and Yancey saw there was no dissuading him. The man was determined to go through with the gunfight.
“Just to be sure I get the right man,” Jarrett said, “after I nail you I’ll go after your partner Cato.”
“You have to nail me first,” Yancey said quietly.
Jarrett snorted. “Hell, man, you’re dead.”
Jarrett started his double draw on the last word and it was so fast that most onlookers said later that they didn’t see his hands move from his sides. He just seemed to bend his legs a little and suddenly there was a blazing gun in each fist.
Yancey’s gun wasn’t yet clear of leather when he felt the hammer blow of a slug in his side. He twisted around from the impact, caught his balance and triggered a shot beneath his left arm.
Jarrett was the faster without a doubt, but the Enforcer was the more accurate. His bullet hit Jarrett high in the chest and the swarthy gunman stumbled back several paces, his jaw sagging in shock. He brought up both guns, triggering wildly as another slug spun him around, then he crashed to his knees as a third burned in to him. He swayed on his knees for a few moments, gave a heavy cough and toppled forward onto the street.
Yancey straightened slowly as Will Benbow rushed out and kicked the guns out of Jarrett’s hands. But the man was dead and there was no need for the precaution.
Benbow blew out his cheeks and let out a low whistle as he saw Yancey staring in puzzlement at his ripped shirt.
Plaster showed through the tear in the cloth and Benbow knew it had been the cast that had deflected Gil Jarrett’s bullet.
“Man, that’s what I call luck!” Benbow breathed as townsfolk closed in slowly to stare down at the dead gunfighter.
Beyond the excited crowd, two horsemen rode hard out of town. No one noticed them. All attention was on Yancey and the gunfighter he had killed.
Eight – King’s Desperation
Nathan King whipped and spurred his mount for miles before he eased back and allowed the abused animal to slow to an easy lope. Foam flecked the bit-torn mouth of the Arab stallion and flew back into the rancher’s face. Sweat ran in rivers down the dusty hide, streaking it.
Chad Barnes had dropped back just after leaving town, so King allowed him to catch up by bringing his horse to a stop on a rise. The stallion stood there, quivering and snorting, his head hanging.
The wild ride had sweated some of the booze out of the big rancher, but his anger had been increased when he saw Gil Jarrett gunned down by Bannerman. Hell almighty, was there no way to stop him?
King waited, letting the breeze cool his face, not worried in the least about the big Arab getting a chill. If the horse caught pneumonia and died, King would simply buy another. That was his way. He used something till it couldn’t serve him anymore, then he discarded it and replaced it with something equally as good or better and never mind the expense.
It worked with everything except land. He considered this land was his, left to him by “King Iron,” the name the Apaches had given his father. “King Iron” was also his nickname but for very different reasons, and it had been tagged on him by white men. But this was King land any way you looked at it, and now the homesteaders were slowly stealing it away from him, backed by the government. Well, Nathan King didn’t knuckle under to anyone, Government or not. He would take them all on, though he wasn’t foolish enough to force a direct confrontation, for he knew he couldn’t win that way.
But he could win by devious means and King was a master of that.
Calming a little now as he saw Chad Barnes riding hard towards him, King breathed in deeply as he looked out over the land. “Yeah,” he said aloud, “this land is mine.”
But two men stood in his way: Benbow and Bannerman.
Chad Barnes reined in beside the blowing Arab and frowned when he saw the big horse’s state.
“The Arab might catch a chill, Nate,” he said quietly, careful not to allow a note of criticism to enter his voice.
King grunted. “He’ll get me home.”
Barnes, a horse lover, said nothing, knowing there was nothing he could say on the subject if that was going to be King’s attitude. The man was not in the least concerned about the valuable horse. He had things on his mind that were crowding out all other thoughts.
King looked soberly at the uncomfortable ramrod. “Seems we’ve got us a couple of real curly wolves in our hair, Chad,” King said.
“We sure have,” agreed the ramrod. “Man, that Jarrett was the fastest I’ve ever seen, yet Bannerman nailed him in the chest with his first shot. And Bannerman! Talk about the luck of the devil! Jarrett’s goddamn bullet just bounced off that plaster cast of his!”
King nodded, his face tight. “So far they’ve had all the luck. And that damn young rancher ain’t no slouch as a badge-toter. I reckon that even if Bannerman hadn’t turned up here, sooner or later Benbow would’ve pinned on that star and faced up to me.” He spat. “But likely he wouldn’t’ve had any success without Bannerman behind him. The way I see it, there ain’t no sense in gettin’ rid of just one of ’em—we gotta get rid of both. You agree, Chad?”
Barnes was so surprised that the rancher was asking for his opinion that he hesitated for a moment before answering.
“Yeah. Yeah, Nate, I think it’s the only way. Benbow’s gettin’ so big for his boots that if anything happened to Bannerman, he wouldn’t fold up right away. He’d come down even harder on us, I reckon. Or he’d try.”
The rancher agreed with a nod of his head. “Way I see it, too. We tried to nail ’em separately by riggin’ the bank hold-up and bringin’ in Jarrett, but it didn’t work. So now we got to get rid of ’em both at once.”
Barnes frowned. “How do we go about that? Judas, like you said, Nate, they’re both curly wolves. We might never get a chance to jump ’em both together.”
King smiled crookedly. “We will. Come on.”
He wrenched the head of the Arab around and touched his reddened spurs to raked flesh. The animal protested with a whinny but obediently started forward. Puzzled, Barnes followed. Then, when they reached the foot of the slope and came to the river crossing, he had the first glimmering of what King had in mind.
For the rancher had turned upstream—towards Benbow’s place.
Yancey buttoned on his shirt and looked at the bullet holes Doctor Stedman’s wife had mended while the medic renewed the plaster cast around his rib cage.
“I’m sure obliged to you and your wife, Doc,” Yancey said. “How much do I owe you altogether?”
“Five dollars’ll cover it.”
Yancey paid the money and took a couple of experimental deep breaths. He winced as pain stabbed sharply through his side.
“It’ll be a few days before breathin’ gets easier,” Stedman told him. “And don’t go liftin’ any more furniture or getting into gunfights for a spell.”
Yancey smiled, setting his hat on his head. “I’ll watch it, Doc. Much obliged again. Adios.”
Yancey went into the street and saw Will Benbow
pulling his buckboard to a halt. The Enforcer walked over to the young rancher, glancing at the westering sun.
“Heading home?”
Benbow nodded. “Yeah. Told Mary I’d be in by sundown. I’ll be a mite late as it is and she worries a lot. I like to be with her as much as I can now that the baby’s about due.”
“Sure. Understandable. Me, I aim to turn in early tonight too, right after I’ve eaten. But I may take a ride out to the river crossing early in the morning. I’ll wait for you there and pick you up on your way in if you like.”
“Sure, Yancey. Be glad of the company.” Benbow seemed impatient to be away.
Yancey grinned and took off his hat, slapping it lightly across the rump of the nearside horse. The animal lurched forward.
“Better not keep Mary waiting, Will! Adios.”
“See you in the mornin’!” Benbow called back as he cracked the reins over the team’s backs, running the buckboard down the street.
Yancey grinned, set his hat on his head, and walked down the street towards the cafe.
As he strolled along, rubbing gently at the new cast around his ribs, Yancey wondered what King would come up with next. He felt sure the man wouldn’t give up. The bank robbery and the use of Jarrett had backfired, but Nathan King wasn’t the kind to just resign himself to a situation he didn’t care for. He would have some kind of counter move planned. Yancey wondered when he would set it in motion and what form it would take. Whatever happened, there was bound to be blood and violence involved.
The Enforcer felt an uneasiness he couldn’t shake as he entered the cafe.
It was almost dark when Will Benbow crossed the river and turned along the narrow upstream trail that led to the part of the valley where he had his section.
He was uneasy about being this late. He had fully intended to be home long before dark, but the sun was down behind the hills now and the shades of night were falling. But he hadn’t expected to shoot it out with three bank robbers and then watch a gunfight between Yancey and Jarrett. He sighed. He hadn’t meant to leave Mary alone all this time, especially with the baby so close to coming and the possible complications attending the event. This was what worried him most. He knew Mary was capable of handling things, but if things went wrong ... well, he didn’t want to even think about that, didn’t want to think about Mary having to deliver the baby alone.
He drove the buckboard out of the hollow towards the hogback rise that stood between him and the cabin. Soon he would see the lantern burning in the window and Mary would come running to the door when she heard the approach of the buckboard. Then he would be holding her in his arms within minutes.
Will Benbow pulled in the reins suddenly as the buckboard topped the hogback rise.
There was nothing before him but darkness. There was no square of light behind the oiled paper of the front window. There was just blackness, with the vague outline of the cabin barely visible against the bulk of the mountain behind it.
He felt what seemed like the stab of a knife through him. His guts turned to water and there was bile in his throat. A shiver ran through his lean body along with a sudden sense of fear.
Sucking in his breath through clenched teeth, Will Benbow flicked the reins and drove the buckboard recklessly down the hogback and into the yard. When the team hit the flat, he stood up and hauled back on the reins.
“Maaarrryyyy!” he yelled, extending her name into a long, despairing call that echoed back at him mockingly from the dark bulk of the mountain.
The buckboard skidded to a halt in the yard and he leapt down before it had completely halted. He reached under the seat and snatched up his shotgun, thumbing back the hammer as he lunged for the open door of the cabin.
“Mary!”
He stumbled inside and had enough sense of self-preservation to dodge to the left so he wasn’t silhouetted against the last of the afterglow behind him.
But there was no sound from the cabin, only his own ragged breathing as he fought to control it. Blood pounded in his ears and his heart thudded against his ribs. He opened his mouth to call again, then clamped his lips together tightly without uttering a sound.
He knew Mary wasn’t in the cabin.
His first fear was that she had collapsed somewhere in the house. But some inner sense told him that this was not the case; Mary’s presence didn’t touch him, and that meant she wasn’t in the cabin.
He felt sick at the thought that she might be lying in the open, somewhere in the darkness ...
Benbow groped his way forward and tripped over an overturned chair. Fearful now, he stood and scraped a match to flame. Even before he lit the wick of the lantern on the mantel, he saw that the room had been wrecked.
The furniture that had taken him so many long hours to make had been smashed to little more than matchwood. Holding the lantern high and breathing shallowly, he went through the house. The bedroom had been demolished. It was the same in the kitchen, he discovered moments later. Outside, Mary’s vegetable garden had been ruined by someone riding a horse back and forth over it many times.
The half-erected barn had been pulled apart and the walls lay in the yard. The corral fence was down and the stock had been run off. He knew he wasn’t going to find Mary lying unconscious out there in the darkness awaiting the birth of the baby.
She had been abducted.
And he knew who had done it. The place had been left in the state it was in to tell him. There was no need for a note.
King had made a desperate move to warn Benbow in no uncertain terms to back off or Mary would be harmed.
Or killed.
Benbow had known there would be guards.
King wasn’t the kind to pull the stunt he had and then not take extra precautions. As far as Benbow could see there were men patrolling the line from the ranch gate.
He crouched in deep grass on a knoll overlooking the south fence of King’s ranch. He had been here in the darkness for an hour now, after having ridden slowly along the ranch line far enough to know he wouldn’t easily get past the armed men there.
King had him buffaloed and it galled him to the core.
Sure, Will Benbow could ride in openly and demand to see King, but that would gain him nothing. The rancher would of course deny all knowledge of Mary’s whereabouts at this stage. He would make Benbow sweat before coming into the open. Will knew he had been a fool to come here alone.
He hadn’t hesitated to ride to the King Ranch when he realized what the wrecked cabin, garden and yard buildings meant. He should have gone back to Calico Wells to get Yancey Bannerman. He was the professional, the one who would know how to handle this. But all Will could think of was that Mary was being held captive by King with their baby stirring within her. She could even be in labor now, and King would do nothing ...
Benbow shook his head savagely as he lay in the grass. What could happen to Mary and their baby was too horrible to think about. But there was nothing he could do on his own. It had been a fool move coming here alone against King and all his men. He couldn’t hope to do anything except get himself killed and that would only make things worse for Mary. At the same time he knew she needed him, now more than ever. He had to act responsibly and that meant consulting with Yancey.
If only he could get a glimpse of her! In his mind there was little doubt that she was here, but he wanted to see for himself.
In his anguish he didn’t realize that he had stood up to look towards the distant ranch buildings where lights showed.
He was silhouetted against a patch of tall, pale grass and one of the guards on the far side of the fence spotted him.
The man whipped his rifle to his shoulder and fired. Flame stabbing from the muzzle showed the man mounted on a dappled gray horse. The bullet whistled past Benbow’s head and he ducked down. He brought up his shotgun and triggered.
Not waiting to see the result of his shot, he leapt into the saddle.
“Ride the bastard down!” shouted the voice of Chad
Barnes behind him. “Don’t let him get away!”
A half-dozen guns hammered. Benbow, crouching over his mount’s neck, heard what sounded like a swarm of bees passing overhead. He heeled his already galloping mount, weaving the animal down the slope of the knoll, then glancing behind to see riders coming over the crest, silhouetted against the stars.
He lashed at his mount with the rein ends and the horse pounded across the flats towards the river. He turned and fired his shotgun one-handed. The recoil tore it from his grasp and it fell to the ground. Benbow swore and pulled his rifle from its scabbard.
Behind him the riders spread out and he could see others coming at him from both sides. They had been waiting for him, he realized, and he had been foolish enough to ride into their trap. No doubt when they cut him down they would rig things to make it look like he had been trying to rustle King’s herds or something of the sort and had been shot in the act ...
His horse broke stride suddenly and gave a squeal of pain. He wrenched at the reins and righted the animal, but he knew it had been hit by a bullet.
A group of men came angling in from the right. He lifted the rifle one-handed and triggered four fast shots, then wheeled his horse away at a severe right angle. Then more riders closed in on him and he had to wheel again.
He realized their plan when it was too late.
They were driving him to the river. At this point there were cliffs above the river that ran hard through rapids and over a waterfall. He tried to ride parallel with the cliff top but the riders closed him off. They kept shooting, aiming low at his mount and forcing the wounded animal towards the edge of the cliff. Benbow cursed and emptied his rifle into their ranks. A man yelled in agony and a horse went down.
Then his own mount staggered. He flung his empty rifle away and drew his six-gun with his right hand while he tried to right the mount with his left. But the animal shuddered as it was hit again.
He pulled his boots clear of the stirrups but it was too late to jump clear. He and the horse were going over the cliff, plummeting through darkness towards the pale froth of the river far below where it foamed and roared through the rapids.
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