Burning Daylight

by William W. Johnstone

  He moved back quickly as Creager roared and lunged at him again, swinging his arms like a maddened bear. Luke got out of the way of that charge.

  As Creager went past him, Luke hammered a punch into his left kidney. Creager caught his balance and turned to throw a long, looping punch that Luke ducked under easily.

  Too late, Luke realized that Creager’s blow was a feint. The outlaw hadn’t allowed blind rage to overwhelm him as Luke had thought. Creager’s right foot came up fast. The toe of his boot sank into Luke’s belly, causing him to stagger back. The kick had driven the breath from his lungs and he gasped for air. Creager came at him in a flying tackle.

  Luke knew that if Creager got him down on the ground, pinned him there with his greater weight, that would be the end for him. He couldn’t avoid the attack completely, but he moved aside enough that he was able to writhe out from under as they went down. He smashed his left elbow into the side of Creager’s head to slow him down, then rolled away.

  Creager caught hold of Luke’s ankle and upended him again as Luke tried to make it to his feet.

  He landed on his belly and barely scrambled aside before Creager dove on top of him. Luke managed to stand up before the outlaw could grab him.

  Creager was still down and Luke had no compunction about kicking him while he was on the ground, but Creager rolled onto his butt and scuttled backward, out of reach. Luke could have gone after him, but he had a hunch that was what Creager wanted him to do. Luke stood back instead, waiting, grateful for the chance to catch his breath.

  While Creager clambered to his feet, Luke looked past the big outlaw to where Stockbridge stood with Adele, McKinney, Aaron, and Thad. Aaron looked worried, and Adele was pale and clearly concerned. McKinney just watched coolly but with keen interest, as did Stockbridge.

  “More of a challenge than you expected, Creager?” Stockbridge asked.

  The amusement in his voice made Creager growl in anger again. He spat several curses, then spoke to Luke. “Why don’t you stand and fight me? Man to man! Fist against fist, without all the dancin’ around!”

  “Stand still and let you hammer me senseless?” Luke said, trying not to pant and let Creager see how much the fight was taking out of him. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll do more ’n knock you senseless. I’ll hit you until your head busts wide open like a gourd!”

  Luke managed to smile. He raised both fists, planted his feet, and stood there in a pugilist’s stance, seemingly daring Creager to come at him.

  Creager took up the challenge. He spewed more curses and barreled in with both fists swinging.

  Luke weaved back and forth, barely avoiding the blows that would have done terrible damage to him if they had landed. He snapped punches of his own into Creager’s face, peppering the outlaw with hard jabs that caused Creager’s already lumpy features to swell. Blood welled from Creager’s nose and sprayed from his lips when he shook his head to clear his brain. He bellowed an incoherent shout and drove in harder than ever.

  Luke could tell that he was tiring, though. Creager’s punches had begun to slow. They didn’t have the same sizzle on them.

  Creager backed off after Luke landed several sharp blows, then charged again, holding his arms up in front of him to protect his head and face instead of throwing punches. Luke knew Creager was trying to barrel into him and bowl him over. His own reactions were slowing down, too, but he summoned up enough speed to dart aside. As Creager stumbled past him, Luke clasped both hands together and clubbed them into the back of Creager’s neck with all the force he could muster.

  Creager went down hard, too out of control to even attempt to catch himself, and his face crunched into one of the paving stones. He tried to heave himself up as blood flowed from his now misshapen nose, but he didn’t have the strength. His muscles gave up the effort and he slumped back down and didn’t move. His head was turned to the side so he was able to breathe. Air rasped and bubbled in his nose and throat.

  Stockbridge pulled Creager’s Colt from the holster he held and extended it toward Luke. “Here. You can end it with his own gun.”

  Luke stood there with his chest heaving. After a moment, he shook his head. “It’s already ended. Creager doesn’t have any fight left in him.” He looked at Stockbridge. “There’s not some rule that says I have to finish him off, is there?”

  Stockbridge regarded Luke with narrowed eyes and then shoved the Colt back into leather. “No, there’s no such rule. The decision is up to you. But you have to be aware that Creager wouldn’t have extended any mercy to you if the situation had been reversed.”

  “I know,” Luke said. “That’s why I made sure that it wasn’t.”

  Stockbridge had to laugh at that. McKinney smiled faintly in admiration. Aaron gazed at Luke as if he had suddenly grown several feet taller.

  Adele just looked relieved.

  Luke went to her and took his hat from her, then reclaimed his gunbelt from Aaron. As he buckled it on, he said to Stockbridge, “This affair is over as far as I’m concerned. I’d appreciate it if you’d see to it that Creager understands as much.”

  Stockbridge nodded. “I can make it clear that no more trouble between the two of you will be permitted here at the Black Castle . . . but I can’t control how he feels, or what might happen outside of this place.”

  “Fair enough,” Luke said.

  McKinney said, “There are still things Luke and I need to talk about. Things to settle.”

  “Later,” Stockbridge decreed. “I’m sure that after that altercation, Luke would like to clean up and rest a bit. Adele, please show our visitor to his quarters.”

  “I’m not staying in the bunkhouse?” Luke asked. “I don’t have enough money for anything fancy.”

  “That’s not necessary. After putting on an exhibition like that, you’re an honored guest, Luke. If you’ll follow Adele . . .”

  Luke was willing to do that.

  * * *

  She took him to a room on the second floor that was large enough for a comfortable-looking bed, a table with a washbasin on it, a ladderback chair, and not much else.

  Luke said, “I’d like to get my saddlebags and Winchester.”

  “They’ll be brought to you later,” she promised.

  Luke would have rather fetched his gear himself, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue. Before he had ever set out to find the Black Castle, he had burned all the reward posters he usually carried with him. He’d known that he might be heading into an outlaw stronghold, and having those dodgers would have marked him as a bounty hunter or a lawman. Either way, they would have served as death warrants for him.

  There was nothing else in the saddlebags that might cause a problem for him. Supplies and a few books, that was all. Stockbridge might be interested in the books, but they wouldn’t give him any reason to have Luke killed.

  “There’ll be a light supper later. Would you like for me to come and get you when it’s ready?”

  “That would be fine. Thank you.”

  “Is there anything else you need?” She was standing close to him as she asked the question.

  Luke could have reached out and taken her into his arms without any trouble. He had a pretty strong hunch that she wouldn’t object if he did. But after the battle with Creager, not to mention the strains and perils of the past few days, he was worn out. He smiled and said, “Not right now. But . . . perhaps another time.”

  “Opportunities should be seized,” she said with a slight husky tone creeping into her voice. “A person never knows when they might not come again.”

  “True. But all of life is decisions, and we just have to live with the ones we make.”

  She looked intently at him for a moment, then smiled and shook her head. “You go from carving up Creager like a Christmas goose to dispensing bits of philosophy and wisdom. You’re an unusual man, Luke.”

  “I’ve been accused of a lot worse.”

  She lifted a hand and put it
on his arm. Squeezing for a second, she promised, “I’ll be back when it’s time for supper.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Luke said, and meant it.

  As soon as she was gone, he peeled off his shirt, took the rag from the table, wet it in the basin, and scrubbed off the sweat from the battle. Then he stretched out on the bed, still half-dressed, closed his eyes, and was instantly asleep.

  CHAPTER 24

  A knock on the door roused Luke from slumber an unknowable time later. He slid one of the Remingtons from the coiled gunbelt he’d earlier set on the chair beside the bed. Holding his thumb hooked over the hammer, ready to draw it back, he went to the door. “Who’s there?”

  He stepped quickly to the right. The door seemed thick enough to stop a bullet, even a close-range shotgun blast, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.

  “I have your gear, señor,” a man answered. “Your saddlebags and rifle. Señorita Adele said that you wanted them.”

  Keeping the revolver ready, Luke lowered it to his side and opened the door with his other hand. A middle-aged Mexican man with drooping mustaches came in carrying the saddlebags and Winchester.

  “Just put them on the bed,” Luke told him.

  The man did so, then said, “I am Tomás. I work in the stables. I will be caring for your horse and the boy’s mule.”

  “Thank you, Tomás.” Luke reached into his pocket, slid out a half-dollar, and handed it to the man. “I know you’ll take good care of them.”

  “Even without this, señor, because Señor Stockbridge says it is to be so . . . but muchas gracias.”

  The hostler left, but it was only a minute later when another knock sounded on the door, this one softer. Luke again asked who was there and wasn’t surprised when he heard the answer.

  “Adele.”

  He still had the gun in his hand when he opened the door. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of it and said, “You’re not going to need that. We’re just going to supper.”

  “I’ll feel better with it, unless Stockbridge objects. Is Creager going to be joining us for this meal, as well?”

  She shook her head. “He’s going to have difficulty with solid food for a while, I’m afraid. I believe the only ones who are going to be there are you and me, Sir Henry, of course . . . and Jack McKinney.”

  “Three-fingered Jack, eh? Do you know how he lost those two fingers?”

  “I’ve never asked, and he’s never volunteered the information. Do you know?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Luke said. “He used to be a rancher, though, and men who work with cattle often lose fingers. Get one caught just wrong in a loop of rope, and that’ll pop it right off.”

  A dainty little shudder went through Adele. “I’m glad I wasn’t raised on a ranch, then. I have better things to do with my fingers.” She smiled, and he couldn’t tell if she was trying to imply something with that comment or whether it was innocent.

  Here in the Black Castle, he thought, it was probably best not to assume innocence of any kind.

  Stockbridge and McKinney were already seated in the small dining room, Stockbridge at the head of the table, McKinney to his left. The food was on the table, and glasses of wine stood next to the place settings. Luke held the chair opposite Stockbridge for Adele, then sat to her left.

  “Are you refreshed now after the earlier unpleasantness?” Stockbridge asked as he picked up his wineglass.

  “I’m fine,” Luke answered. “A bit sore, maybe, but nothing to worry about. I’ve been in fights before.”

  “Yes, I can tell that,” Stockbridge said with a chuckle. “Your nose has been broken more than once, hasn’t it?”

  McKinney said, “Not as badly as Creager’s is. Doc Mitchell set it for him, but breathing’s going to hurt for a while.”

  “I didn’t seek out that fight,” Luke said.

  Stockbridge said, “And no one would have objected if you’d put a bullet in his head. You’d earned that right by accepting his challenge and then defeating him. So I don’t think our friend Creager really has a great deal to complain about.”

  “That won’t stop him from complaining,” McKinney said. “And I don’t reckon he regards any of us as his friends right now.”

  Adele sipped her wine and said, “Couldn’t we talk about something more pleasant?”

  “Of course.” Stockbridge waved a hand magnanimously. “And while we’re at it, dig in, gentlemen”—he raised his glass to Adele—“and lady.”

  The food was good, strips of steak, peppers, onions, tortillas, stew, and beans, south of the border fare as tasty and well-prepared as any that Luke had had in Mexico.

  While they were eating, McKinney looked across the table at Luke and said, “We have some unfinished business.”

  “You don’t want to fight a duel, too, do you?” Luke asked.

  McKinney laughed. “Not hardly. Despite certain . . . circumstances . . . I don’t believe you and I need to be enemies, Luke.”

  “If you’re talking about your wife, let me ease your mind. I admire the lady, but that’s all. Despite what Aaron said, there’s nothing between us.”

  McKinney nodded solemnly. “I appreciate you saying that. If you actually do admire her, maybe you’ll agree to what I asked you to do earlier.”

  “Take your boys back to her, you mean?” Luke drank some of the wine, then shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that, Jack. At least not now. It wouldn’t be . . . healthy . . . for me to head back in that direction.”

  McKinney’s face tightened as he said, “The law is after you, you mean.”

  “I’m not the only man is this place who finds himself in that situation, I’m sure.”

  Stockbridge said, “You’re certainly not. That’s why the Black Castle exists, after all, as a safe haven for men in our line of work.”

  “What in blazes am I going to do with them, then?” McKinney asked with what sounded like a genuine note of dismay in his voice. “I planned on leaving here tomorrow.”

  Luke said, “I have a suggestion. Take them with you. And me, too.”

  McKinney stared across the table at him, and even Stockbridge and Adele looked a little surprised.

  “Thad’s already been riding with you,” Luke went on. “Aaron’s a smart boy and doesn’t back down from anything.”

  An angry flush began spreading across McKinney’s face. “You think I want my sons to be outlaws?” he demanded.

  “It’s been good enough for you,” Luke pointed out.

  McKinney’s open hand came down on the table with a sharp crack. “You don’t know a damn thing about it, mister. I have reasons for everything I’ve done, but they’re my reasons and none of your business.” His eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. “It sounds to me like you’re just trying to worm your way into my gang.”

  “I admit that I wouldn’t mind having some partners to ride with, at least for a while,” Luke said. “This life is hard for a man alone, with no one to watch his back. Also, I understand your concern for your sons. I don’t know Thad, but I’ve grown fond of Aaron, and we’ve faced trouble together. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to him. That’s why I thought I could go along and sort of help you keep an eye on both of them. Look out for them and make sure nothing happens to them.”

  “Mighty generous of you,” McKinney snapped.

  Luke shook his head. “No, not at all. I’m looking out for myself, too. But answer this for me, Jack . . . Whatever you’re planning next, don’t you think you could use another good man to help you carry it out?”

  Stockbridge gestured with the wineglass he held, waving it toward Luke. “He has a point, Jack. Even in the short time he’s been here, Luke has demonstrated his abilities. When you consider that he also saved old Badger and fought off Apaches to get here, you have to give him credit.”

  With a surly glare, McKinney said, “That doesn’t mean I’m going to just welcome him into the gang with open arms. And what about Creager? How do you think
he would take it if he found out the man who busted his nose was going to be riding with us?”

  “It’s your gang,” Luke pointed out. “If Creager wants to be part of it, I suppose he’ll do whatever you say.”

  In the tense silence that followed that statement, Adele said, “You men always have to wind up talking about business, don’t you? It’s never enough to simply enjoy a good meal and some good company.”

  Stockbridge said, “I’m sorry, my dear. But these things are important and need to be settled.”

  “Of course, Sir Henry,” she responded instantly, even though there hadn’t been even a hint of a rebuke in his tone.

  McKinney still didn’t look happy, but he said, “I know good and well that if I send those boys home, they won’t go. And it’d be dangerous if they did. I hate to say it, but they might be better off with me for now. Sooner or later, though, they’ve got to go back to their mother.”

  “We can figure something out,” Luke said. “Maybe after things have had time to cool off some, I could circle back in that direction and take them with me.”

  “I don’t like it,” McKinney said, “but that may be the best way to go for the time being.” He pointed across the table at Luke. “I want your word that you’ll do your best to keep them safe, though.”

  “Of course. You have it. I don’t want to see any harm come to them.”

  “As for Creager . . . he doesn’t call the shots in my bunch. I do. You’d be smart to keep an eye on him, though.”

  “Believe me,” Luke said, “I intend to.”

  McKinney sat back in his chair and frowned. “I guess it’s settled, then. You and the boys will come with us when we ride out in the morning.”