by Neil Hunter
‘You realise that Larch is liable to make a fight out of this?’ Seth Tyler said.
‘I’ve always known I might have to face this kind of situation. I won’t say I’m not scared, because I am, but I won’t turn my back on it.’
Seth took the mug of coffee Cooper handed him. ‘Man who tells you he isn’t scared is a man to leave alone.’
‘How do you intend to handle it?’
‘Legally I’ve no jurisdiction here. This is your bailiwick. I’ve a paper that says I can escort Larch back to Hope, that’s all.’
‘We’ll do it right,’ Cooper said. ‘Before we ride out in the morning I’ll swear you in as my deputy. That do it?’
Seth smiled. ‘Amen to the wonders of law and order.’
They ate breakfast in Youngtown’s hotel and afterwards Cooper took Seth over to his shop. In his office, which served for his law work, Seth was sworn in.
The ranch on which Larch was working was about three miles out of town. Cooper spoke to the owner, who came over to Seth.
‘Marshal. You want any help on this?’
‘I think Mister Cooper and I can handle it. No reason to put anybody else up to be shot at. Just warn your crew to ride clear of where Larch and his partners are.’
‘All right, marshal. Go careful now.’
‘Larch is working over the far side of the range,’ Cooper told Seth.
‘All right, Frank,’ Seth said. ‘You ready to ride?’
Cooper nodded and they rode away from the ranch-house, turning their horses across open range. The day was clear and warm, the sky blue and cloudless. They rode steadily, not speaking much. It took them a little under two hours to reach the place where Noble Larch was working with his two partners.
The location was one of the ranch line-shacks. The three men bunked here while they did the work that had been assigned to them. The shack was built close to the creek that meandered across the range. Trees shaded the shack at the rear, and more trees lined the edge of the creek.
Drawing rein some way from the shack, Seth and Frank Cooper dismounted. They were hidden from sight by a rise in the ground, so they were able to survey the place in comparative safety.
‘Three horses in the corral,’ Cooper said.
‘They must get their work done early, or else they’re late starters,’ Seth remarked.
‘How do you want to do it, Seth?’ Cooper asked.
‘Only one way to do it. Let them know we’re here. Give them a chance to walk out with their hands in the air. Those other two might not know what Larch did. They might want to be left out.’
‘And if they don’t surrender?’
‘Then we make them give up. They have a choice there as well. They’ll be able to have it the easy way — or go the hard route.’
Cooper nodded. ‘You know this kind of man?’
‘Yes. I’ve had to handle a fair number back in Hope. They know one way of life and it’s a hard and violent way. You want to handle them, then you’ve got to do it their way. Try any other, be a little softer, and they’ll trample you down without thought.’
‘I’m ready when you are,’ Cooper said.
They mounted up and rode down towards the shack. They forded the creek and reined in on the far bank. It was quiet there. Smoke curled lazily up from the shack’s chimney-stack. Over in the corral a horse stamped restlessly.
Seth pulled his coat back from the butt of his handgun, dogged the hammers back on his shotgun. Feeling overly self-conscious Frank Cooper eased his own handgun into a more comfortable position.
‘Noble Larch. I know you’re in there. This is Seth Tyler. I’ve come to take you back to Hope. Now you know me. I play it straight. You come on out and there’ll be no trouble. Cross me and I’ll give you Hell. Larch., you hear me?’
There was a long silence. Then from inside the shack there was a muffled clatter. Silence again.
Seth sat motionless, waiting. Beside him Frank Cooper was wound up tight as a fiddle-string. He wondered how long the waiting would go on.
The shack door opened slowly. A man stepped out. He was tall and thin. He wore faded Levis, scuffed boots with Mexican spurs. A greasy hat was on the back of his head. He wore no shirt and the top-half of his long-Johns was dirty and patched. He stepped outside and put one hand against the doorpost as if he was tired. In his free hand he held a long-barrelled .44 Colt.
‘Noble don’t figure to give up to you or anybody, Tyler,’ he said.
‘He’s not doing himself any good,’ Seth said.
The thin man shrugged. ‘That’s the way it is.’
‘How do you stand in this?’
‘Well now, me and Burt, we known Noble for a good long time. I guess we’re with him.’
‘Then you’ll be treated the same,’ Seth said.
‘Hell, mister, that’s all you say,’ the thin man yelled and he put up his gun and fired at Seth.
Frank Cooper had been watching as Seth spoke to the thin man. He had wondered what was going on in the shack. When the thin man lifted his gun, Cooper was certain some kind of trap had been sprung.
Cooper was right. As the thin man opened up on Seth a rifle was poked through the shack’s window and it was aimed right at Frank Cooper. Cooper reacted with a speed that surprised even himself. He grabbed for his gun, twisting himself out of the saddle in the same second. He hit the ground on his shoulder, rolled desperately while he tried to keep the rifle in sight. He never did remember aiming his gun at the window. But he did, and he fired, his bullet ripping a long slice of wood from the frame.
Seth had expected some kind of move like the one that took place. He had a feeling the thin man would make a try for him, and he was ready as a man could be. He had his shotgun on the opposite side of the horse to the thin man. Using this cover he angled the weapon in the thin man’s direction and when the thin man put up his gun Seth just dropped the shotgun’s barrels a fraction and tripped one trigger. As the shotgun boomed Seth felt the thin man’s bullet slam into his right leg, just above the knee.
Catching the full blast of the shotgun’s charge in his lower chest and stomach the thin man was kicked bodily back against the wall of the shack. He gave a terrified scream as he placed his hands over his lacerated body, as if he was trying to stop the drenching flow of blood that reddened his hands.
Frank Cooper, shoving to one knee, saw a darting figure over by the corral. The third man, he realised. Cooper turned towards the man, his gun coming up. The man saw Cooper, swung his own gun round. He never had a chance to use it. Frank Cooper fired once, then again, and a third time. His first bullet took two fingers from the man’s left hand. His next caught the man in the chest, turning him so that Cooper’s third shot took him in the side of the head, drilling a neat entry hole, taking out the top of his skull as it exited. The man ran two or three steps before he skidded rubber-legged on to his face in the bloody dust.
Despite his bleeding leg Seth got down out of the saddle. He indicated the rear of the shack to Frank Cooper, saw the Youngtown lawman head that way, then ran for the door. Ducking low he went inside. From the gloom a rifle exploded. The bullet slammed into the doorframe. Seth hit the floor, rolled his body to one side, pushing his shotgun forward and up at the shadowy figure of Noble Larch as the man turned towards the shack’s rear window.
‘No way out, Larch’, Seth yelled.
‘The Hell, you say,’ Noble Larch said.
As he faced the window he saw Frank Cooper. The lawman had his gun on Larch, but the outlaw was beyond reason. He gave an angry yell and swung his rifle round at Cooper who fired his own gun once, a split second before Seth let go with his shotgun’s remaining barrel. Larch was tossed forward like a rag doll. He collided with the shack’s rickety table and turned it over as he fell to the floor.
Seth pushed slowly to his feet, leaned himself against the doorframe. His leg was starting to ache. The leg of his pants was soaked with blood, but it was slow bleeding. There was no heavy, arteri
al bleeding, and he could stand on the leg with only a little extra pain, so there was no bone broken.
A moment later Frank Cooper came round the side of the shack. His face was pale, but he seemed all right otherwise. He’d lost his hat somewhere. There was a slight cut on his left cheek.
‘You hurt bad, Seth?’ he asked.
‘I’ll move around slow for a while, but that’s about all.’
‘We’d better get you back to town. There’s a pretty good doctor in Youngtown.’
‘I’ll take you up on that,’ Seth said.
Cooper fashioned a makeshift bandage for Seth’s leg, then helped him on to his horse. The Youngtown lawman found his hat, retrieved his own mount and climbed into the saddle. He sat for a moment gazing at the silence of death that lay over the little shack on the banks of the peaceful creek. The place seemed just like it had when they’d ridden up such a short time ago. But there was a difference now, for three men had died in a blaze of sudden gunfire and violence.
‘Won’t we ever learn?’ Cooper asked tiredly. ‘Won’t we ever learn that it’s all so damn wasteful.’
‘One day, maybe, Frank, but it won’t happen in our time, and maybe not for a long time after. Violence is part of man. It’s with him when he’s born. Some learn to control it. Others aren’t strong enough to control it. Then there are those who trade on it to intimidate others. It exists, and while it exists it has to be fought. One way or another it has to be fought. This was the hard way, Frank. It was the only way out for Larch and those other two. Not because we wanted it, but because for them there was no other way.’
‘We can call by the house on the way back. Macklin will send some of his boys out to bring the bodies to town.’
‘Sounds like a good notion,’ Seth said absently. He was feeling tired, a little lightheaded. The ride from Hope had been long and hard, and now this. The prospect of a soft bed, maybe a good meal, sounded good. He hoped he could stay in the saddle long enough to reach Youngtown.
Chapter Six
With the darkness came rain. At first it was only a light drizzle, but within the first hour of darkness the drizzle increased until it had become a heavy, drenching downpour.
Jacob would have kept going if he’d only had himself to consider. His thoughts now, though, centred on Nancy and what was best for her. In this darkness on this strange mountain, with the slashing downpour of icy rain, travel was a risky proposition. Jacob didn’t even consider it.
He located a sheltered place in a narrow canyon. It was beneath a large overhang of rock that jutted out from the canyon wall, and it was on a slightly higher level than the trail they had been travelling.
Jacob collected wood and made a fire. He knew it was a risk, but Nancy was cold and soaked to the skin. He knew very well that the Retfords were out there somewhere. He knew it, but he was determined not to let the knowledge kill his spirit. He and Nancy were going to have to be careful, but that didn’t mean they had to run and hide like animals. Jacob could sense that there would have to be a final showdown with the Retfords. When the time came he would face it. Until then, with caution at the fore, he and Nancy had to make the best of the situation.
With the fire going Jacob went out and collected more wood, making sure there was enough to see them through the night. After that he saw that the horses were fed and tethered.
Returning to the fire he saw that Nancy had put coffee on to boil. She had got out of her wet clothes as well. With a dry blanket round her she was on her knees before the fire, running a brush through her damp hair. She glanced up as he approached, smiling tiredly. Firelight shone in her eyes, turned the bare skin of her arms and shoulders to warm pinkness.
Jacob shrugged out of his coat. He took his gun belt off and put it close by as he knelt before the fire.
‘Jacob.’
He looked up. ‘Yes?’
Nancy stopped brushing her hair. She made to speak then lowered her eyes for a moment. Then she got up and moved across to where Jacob knelt. Getting down beside him she took his face in her gentle hands, turning it to her. She kissed him soundly, her lips warm on his. Jacob drew her to him, feeling the soft press of her body. Imperceptibly Nancy’s mood changed from clinging gentleness to demanding boldness. Jacob found himself drawn to her by his own needs, and at first he would have let himself go as far as things might have taken them. And it would have been easy. With the loosely wrapped blanket slipping to her waist, revealing her womanly fullness, Nancy seemed oblivious of her surroundings, her sparse and crude place of rest. For her there was only Jacob. The warmth of his lips on hers, the touch of his hand on her breast. She held him, tightly, not wanting it to end, suddenly not caring what happened as long as she could stay with this man.
Yet it was Jacob himself who did end it, but gently, as he firmly drew her from him. Nancy gazed at him, her eyes full of questions as Jacob pulled her blanket across her firm body.
‘Another time and another place,’ he said, ‘I’d consider myself an honored man. Right now though, I figure I’m only too easily taking advantage of our situation, and you’re too much a lady to be used that way, Nancy.’
‘Place or time won’t change what I feel, Jacob,’ Nancy said.
‘Nor me. But I reckon we both need us a breathin’ space.’
She smiled, appreciating his thoughts for her, his respecting her position, and knowing that they were being wise to stop things just where they were for now.
Later, as they sat together before the fire, fed, and warmed by the flickering flames, Nancy said, ‘Where do we go when we reach Youngtown?’
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘It doesn’t matter to me as long as it’s where you are.’
Jacob refilled his coffee mug. ‘Up where my brother, Brigham, has his place, now that’s right nice country. Plenty of good grass and water. Sort of place where a man could make himself a home. Why, that’s just what Brig did. Up in those hills now, it’s fine country for cattle — and people.’
‘Sounds nice. So does your family. It must be nice to have family.’
He looked at her. ‘Nancy, are you sure you want to get hung with me?’
‘I already am,’ she said, ‘and there’s no use you trying to talk me out of it.’
‘I wouldn’t think of it. All I wanted to know was if you had any doubts.’
‘No, Jacob. No doubts. Not now. Not ever,’ she told him, and he knew she meant it. He was glad, for it made him easier in himself, because he’d had a strange feeling over what it might have done to him if she had expressed doubts or had changed her mind.
Later still, while Nancy slept, Jacob kept watch. Somewhere out there were the Retfords. He wondered what they were doing. Had they given up for the night? Or were they still searching? It was impossible to tell and Jacob didn’t dwell on it for too long. Come morning he’d have plenty of chance to see how things were.
Jacob let himself drift into a light sleep. He needed some. With daylight he would need his full wits about him. There would be no time for sleeping then. He was thankful for his ability to be able to come awake quickly at the slightest sound. As it was the night passed without incident, and with dawn graying the sky Jacob roused himself and built up the fire.
He was stiff and cold, having spent the night beside a large rock at the edge of the camp, where he had a good view of the approach to the canyon. In a while he felt better as the heat from the fire cut through the chill left by the damp night.
There was coffee on the boil and bacon crackling in the pan when he woke Nancy. Her clothes were dry now and he went to check the horses while she got dressed. By the time he returned she was kneeling before the fire forking the bacon out of the pan. She’d put some bread in with the other food and she cut off a couple of thick slices, dropping them into the pan of hot fat. While the bread fried she poured two mugs of hot coffee.
‘How does it look?’ she asked.
‘Pretty quiet. No sign of anyone out there. I figure t
hey did the same as us and camped when the rain came on last night.’
Nancy turned the bread over in the pan. ‘How long till this rain stops?’
‘Hard to say. Could keep up for a day or two. Then again it might quit in the next few minutes.’
‘It’ll slow us up.’
‘Yes. But it will also slow up Retford and his boys. If we can keep our lead we might get out of these mountains before they do.’
Nancy put the bread on to plates, divided the bacon. They ate in silence. When they’d finished eating they had the rest of the coffee, and while Nancy got their gear tidied up and packed away Jacob put on his thick sheepskin coat, took his rifle and went off down the canyon.
At the mouth of the canyon he stopped and cast around for any sign of life. The trouble was that the rain was liable to have washed away any tracks, if any had been made. Moving out of the canyon Jacob climbed to higher ground and had a look back along the way they had come the day before. Here again there wasn’t much he could see. Trees and brush lay thick all around, so he wasn’t able to see far. He hunkered down and waited a while, what for he didn’t quite know.
He was about ready to go back when he thought he spotted movement along the way they’d come. He watched the spot and after a minute he saw it again. Then he saw clearly as a horse and rider came into view in a clearing. Jacob recognised the man as one of Retford’s gunhands.
The rider came on slowly. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. It was obvious that he was searching for tracks. Jacob watched him for over ten minutes. In all that time there was no sign of the rest of the Retford bunch. Had this man come on alone? Maybe riding through the night? Perhaps Retford had even split his men up, sending them in different directions. A lot of ifs, Jacob knew. And all of them liable to cause him trouble.
And then the rider below did the one thing Jacob had hoped he would not do. He saw the canyon, and without hesitation he turned his horse and rode over towards the canyon entrance.
Jacob thought of Nancy, and of his own boot prints in the soft ground. The rain would not have washed them away yet. Jacob eased back into the brush and worked his way down to the low ground. He had to move fast but he had to be careful, for the approaching rider would be alert now for any sound, any movement.