Clay Nash 6

by Brett Waring

  “Kid! Kid! Over here!” bawled Laramie and he put his mount in to cut across Regan’s path. He dragged iron with his free hand and snapped a shot at Nash.

  The Wells Fargo man dropped to one knee, gripped his gun butt in both hands, laying the foresight on Regan. The man had been reloading as he ran and he veered now towards Laramie, firing two shots across his body at Nash. The lead went wide and Nash concentrated on his shot, moving his gun barrel with Regan, leading the man only very slightly and, as Regan closed with the mounted man and started to reach for his extended, bandaged hand, dropped hammer.

  The big Peacemaker bucked and roared and Regan went down and rolled as if the horse had suddenly kicked him full force. He skidded through the dust and made no attempt to get up. The man with the bandaged hand whirled his mount, fired wildly as he turned away from town and Nash.

  The Wells Fargo man sent two shots after him and then spun as he heard pounding footsteps but eased down his gun-hammer when he saw it was Merida Hernandes.

  She was dirt-smeared and there was a gravel graze on one cheek and she held her carbine in both hands. Now she threw it to her shoulder and began firing and levering as fast as she could. Her bullets kicked dust up all around Laramie’s running horse and then Nash moved in and pushed the smoking barrel aside. She looked at him with blazing eyes.

  “He was one of them! He tried to help!” she spat, trying to wrench the gun free but unable to break his grip.

  “Sure, I know that,” Nash said, struggling to keep hold of the carbine barrel. “But let him go.”

  “Never!” she hissed and she started to hack at his shins with her riding boots.

  Startled, Nash jumped back but retained his hold on the gun barrel. She came after him, fighting desperately and he dodged behind her so that he could pin her arms. Even then she continued to struggle and he had to lift her completely off the ground while she kicked and swore at him in Spanish. He tightened his grip and shook her, cutting off her wind and slowly she settled down.

  It was too late to shoot Laramie then, anyway, as he was out of range. Nash held her tightly, his face against her hair.

  “Listen to me, you damn hellcat! I want him to get back to Triangle H! I want him to report to Matt Hansen about what’s happened here; that we’ve killed Dodd and Coogan and two more of his men.”

  She had stopped struggling altogether now and he relaxed his grip slightly but she made no further hostile moves. Instead she twisted to look at him as townsfolk came hesitantly into the lane.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I want Hansen to know just what he’s up against.”

  “So? What do we do then?”

  “We wait,” Nash told her. “Right here in town. Let Hansen come to us instead of us ridin’ out to meet him on his own stampin’ ground.”

  She frowned and stared at him thoughtfully. “I would rather go to meet him.”

  “Sure, you would! And get yourself killed.”

  “That does not matter as long as I get the men who humiliated my father,” she said quietly, sincerely.

  Nash looked at her, a little startled.

  “Hell, you don’t want to get yourself killed, Merida!”

  She shrugged. “It does not matter.”

  “By hell it does! I won’t let you if I can help it. You stick with me and you’ll see justice done. But it’s got to be my way, savvy?”

  She merely stared at him unwaveringly.

  He smiled slowly. “That way you might come out of this alive, and we’ll still nail the men responsible.”

  “Very well,” she said quietly. “I will do as you wish. For this time.”

  As she turned away, Nash looked thoughtfully after her. She was going to give him trouble, he knew that. Thing was, he owed her. She had saved his life and, what was more, he savvied how she felt.

  And he sure as hell didn’t want to see her get herself killed on any account.

  Seven – Powwow

  Matt Hansen stared across the office at Laramie and then swiveled his gaze to Link Somers where the man lounged in a chair, smoking.

  “This damn Nash is a tough hombre, all right. Not only got himself past Dodd and Coogan, he’s downed both Pepper and Regan!” Hansen was tight-lipped, face drawn. Obviously he hadn’t expected this of Nash.

  “Well, he downed Regan for sure,” Laramie said slowly. “I ain’t sure about Pepper. I couldn’t see onto Main.”

  “Of course Pepper’s been downed!” snapped Hansen. “Why else you figure Regan was on the run? They worked together, them two. Regan would only run if there was nothin’ he could do to help Pepper.” He turned to the silent Somers. “Any idea who this Mex gal might be?”

  “Could be old Hernandes’ daughter,” Somers said slowly. “He was supposed to be on his way to see her in Flatrock.” He sat up and snapped his fingers suddenly. “Hell, yeah! Recollect now, as I was leaving the stage depot in Flatrock, there was a Mex gal headin’ for the livery and she seemed in a mighty hurry and determined about something.” He looked at Laramie. “She wearin’ brown corduroy ridin’ pants, sort of a pale brown blouse and a hat with a narrow brim?”

  “Maybe,” Laramie said cautiously. “I didn’t stop to take a good look. I was too busy tradin’ lead with Nash and gettin’ out of there with a whole skin.”

  “It sounds like her,” Somers told the rancher. “Seems she’s a fire-eater. Hell-bent for revenge, I guess.”

  Matt Hansen slammed one fist into the palm of the other hand. “Goddamn Nash and the fool gal, whoever she is!” He stood up and paced impatiently across the office, spun suddenly on Laramie and set the man rearing back defensively. “You take long enough to look along your back trail?”

  “Hell, yeah, boss!” Laramie said in a hurt tone. “I wouldn’t be loco enough to lead him here! Yeah, I checked it three times from high points. No sign of any riders at all comin’ after me.”

  “Nash’ll likely wait you out in Signal,” opined Somers. “That’s the way he works. Where he can, he lets his quarry come to him instead of venturin’ out into strange territory, onto the other hombre’s stampin’ ground.”

  “Good strategy,” allowed Hansen grudgingly, taking a turn around the office again. “But you can see why I don’t want Nash prowlin’ around this neck of the woods at all when I got Lewis’ bunch bringing in all them rustled steers.”

  Somers nodded easily. “I could ride into Signal and take on Nash.” He looked at the rancher coolly. “Providin’ you made it worth my while, that is.”

  Hansen frowned as he considered it. “Might work. It could look like you were just settlin’ a grudge with him for the beatin’ he gave you in Tucson, and not have anythin’ to do with me at all.” Almost immediately he shook his head, discarding the notion. “No good. They’d send someone else if it wasn’t settled. And I guess Nash can’t be bought.”

  “I’d reckon not,” Somers said grim-faced. “But maybe we can use the gal as a lever. He’s a sucker for women in trouble.”

  “What? Blackmail him into leavin’?” growled Hansen, already shaking his head and vetoing the suggestion. “No good. He would find some way around it, or Wells Fargo would. There’d be more lawmen than ever crawlin’ around this neck of the woods then, and I don’t want that. I aim to be the law around here, my own law. I aim to make the laws and enforce ’em. But I can’t do that with U.S. Marshals or Wells Fargo detectives nosin’ around. No, we got to get this thing settled some way. Nash and Wells Fargo’ve got to be satisfied and then they’ll pull out and leave us in peace. It’s the only way.”

  “How in hell are you gonna do that?” demanded Somers insolently.

  He tensed as Matt Hansen set his icy stare on him. “You don’t take that tone with me, mister!”

  Somers flushed. “Okay, but it’s a kind of stupid suggestion, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so.”

  “I do mind you sayin’ so, damn it! Now watch your mouth, Somers!”

  The killer flushed deeper and Laramie
shifted his feet uneasily as the man looked in his direction. But Link Somers merely nodded jerkily and Hansen looked away and turned to the ’breed.

  “Go out to the dam and tell the boys to come in. I might want ’em to ride into town with me.”

  “You goin’ in on his terms, then?” Somers asked.

  Hansen gave him another cold stare. “I’m goin’ in—mebbe. But if I do, it’ll be on my terms. They might seem to be Nash’s but that’ll only be because I want it to look that way.” He turned on the ’breed. “Well, what in hell are you waitin’ for?” Laramie nodded and hurried out of the office. When the door had closed after him, Hansen kicked out a chair and sat down in front of Somers, straddling the chair, folding his arms across the straight back, staring at his newly hired gun.

  “Now, you’re gonna tell me everything about that holdup deal and the Wells Fargo reaction, right down the line through Enright and you to Nash, as much as you know, and I mean every detail, no matter how unimportant it might seem to you. I want to know it all, Link. Savvy?”

  Frowning, Link Somers nodded slowly, sorting out his thoughts before beginning to speak.

  ~*~

  “He is not coming!” Merida Hernandes snapped, whirling away from the store window and facing Nash where the Wells Fargo man sat perched on a pile of potato sacks.

  McDonald was working at the far end of the store but he kept glancing at the girl and Nash worriedly. He had agreed to let them wait in his building but he was terrified that there would be more shooting, and while he was confident that he could duck down out of the way of stray lead himself, he knew there could only be damage done to his property.

  Clay Nash stood up slowly and walked across to the window to stand beside the girl. He stooped a little so as to see out properly.

  “Give him time, Merida,” he said quietly. “He’s got to figure things out, decide what he’s gonna do and then how he’s gonna do it. He might ride in with his wild bunch and all guns blazin’. Then again he might come in alone, or with just one man to side him, but he’ll come. I’m sure of that. Just wait for a while.”

  “I am tired of waiting!” she snapped.

  “Well, we gotta wait a little longer it seems. No use gettin’ fussed about it.”

  “You wait!” she told him angrily. “I will ride out to this Triangle H and do what must be done!”

  Nash grabbed her arm as she made to push past and she snapped her head up, looking at him with blazing eyes.

  “Merida, I told you I’ll do what has to be done. You stay out of it. Leastways, till I tell you different.”

  She tried to pull her arm free and when he would not release it she dropped her hand to her knife handle.

  “Don’t do anythin’ stupid,” Nash told her, an edge of anger in his voice. “There’s no point in your committin’ suicide, Merida. You don’t really think you could get close enough to Hansen to kill him before some of his men nailed you, do you? They won’t mind shootin’ a woman; your sex’ll mean nothin’ at all to ’em.”

  “I can try!” she hissed. “It will be better than waiting here and doing nothing!”

  “Sure, we’re waitin’ ... and we’ll wait a little longer. If he’s not here by sundown, then come first light we’ll ride out there and spy out the lay of the land.”

  He felt some of the tension flow out of her at his words and her eyes studied his face for a long moment before she nodded, still unsmiling and cool.

  “All right. I agree to wait that long.”

  “You won’t have to,” called McDonald a little nervously from the front window of the store where he was arranging some display goods. “Here comes Hansen, and he’s got a stranger with him. A mon with two guns on a verra wide belt.”

  Nash cursed softly and hurried to the front of the store, pushing McDonald aside.

  “Link Somers, by hell!” he exclaimed. “Now it all begins to add up. How Coogan and Dodd were waitin’ for me ... he’s sold out to Hansen.”

  The girl was barely at the window before Nash strode to the double doors and threw them open, striding out onto the porch.

  “Get right away from ma store if there’s gonna be any shootin’!” called the worried Scotsman. “I dinna mind the business you make for me, laddie, but I canna abide the damage. If you’re gonna kill some more men for me to bury, do it up yonder, like a good mon, eh?”

  Merida impatiently thrust the old storekeeper aside and stepped out onto the porch beside Nash. The riders had seen him now and she heard the lever work on his rifle as he held it ready across his chest. Hansen and Somers heard it too, and Somers’ hands started towards his gun butts but Hansen spoke briefly to him and he checked and, with an effort, put his hands on the saddlehorn, folding them in full view. The men turned their mounts towards the store and Matt Hansen’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the girl. Then he flicked his gaze to the tall, implacable Nash and he felt the tension knot in him as he faced this man who had already downed so many men. Nash wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes were on Link Somers.

  “Got yourself a cur dog to lead around, Hansen?” Nash said, deliberately provoking.

  Somers growled and straightened but Hansen spoke sharply to him in a low voice. Then the rancher looked at Nash and nodded shortly.

  “No need for any trouble, Nash, we’ve come to powwow.”

  Nash felt the girl beside him stiffen, but he kept his own face blank and made no move to lower the rifle.

  “There ain’t anythin’ to be talked over, Hansen. You got charges to answer and it’s my job to see that you do. If you’ve got anything to say, say it.”

  “Here?” asked Hansen, gesturing to the street and people edging closer to hear what was being said.

  “Here,” Nash told him and the rancher sighed and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.

  “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.” He glanced around again and it was obvious that he wasn’t happy with the arrangements. “Ah, hell, Nash! Can’t we go someplace more private?”

  Nash was about to say no when Merida tugged at his arm and he looked at her irritably. She used her eyes to indicate a movement down the street, just a flickering of a deeper shadow within a shadow by the edge of a building. Then she slightly lifted her eyebrows and he moved his own gaze without tilting his head and saw a man crouching by a false front on the awning of the feed store, holding a rifle.

  Nash lowered his rifle barrel until it covered Hansen. “Mebbe inside would be better at that. And tell your men you’ll get it even if they nail me.”

  Hansen stiffened a little. “Just precautions, Nash, that’s all. I don’t want any trouble, man.”

  “You should’ve thought of that back in Tucson. Now move inside. You too, Somers.”

  The men came up onto the porch slowly and warily, the rancher keeping his hand well away from his gun. Somers kept a narrow gaze on Nash and the girl all the time.

  “Found yourself another job, I see,” Nash said as Somers pushed past and into the store where McDonald was worriedly pacing up and down.

  “Yeah,” Somers told him arrogantly, “better than ridin’ shotgun for Wells Fargo. I’m Triangle H’s top gun.”

  Nash frowned. “Way I heard it, feller named Hank Nolan had that job.”

  Somers smiled crookedly. “We buried him this mornin’.”

  Nash’s eyes narrowed and he studied the man and his buscadero rig. “So that’s the way it is. Okay, stand over there beside your new boss.” He gestured with the rifle and then looked at the storekeeper. “Reckon you could find something to do out back, Mr. McDonald?”

  McDonald nodded but looked very worried and hesitated. “It’s okay. There won’t be any trouble in here,” Nash said. The man still didn’t look convinced but he went out, muttering and, for all Nash knew, swearing in Gaelic. When he had gone, the girl aligned herself with Nash and the Wells Fargo man looked at Hansen.

  “Now, get on with it, Hansen.”

  The man nodded jerkily, leaned one elbo
w on the counter and picked up a can of peaches, looking at it as he spoke. “Listen, Nash, Link here’s told me what happened with that stage. We never meant it to get out of hand. Just a little fun, was all.”

  “You killed my father!” hissed Merida.

  Hansen looked at her, his gaze compassionate. “No, señorita, you’re wrong there. I didn’t kill him. I’d gone before they made him climb up into that driver’s seat. I thought the others were following. They came on not long after and I swear even they didn’t know about the stage crashing.”

  The girl looked at him, her eyes smoldering, mouth grim and disbelieving.

  “It’s true, ma’am. Sure, I guess I did wrong by goin’ along with the boys even as much as I did. But we’d gotten ourselves top dollar for our beef and we’d been celebrating, and were likkered up. Like I said, we never meant no harm to no one, just figured it would be fun for the passengers to change clothes. I reckoned to leave it at that and me and some of the boys rode off. I didn’t know till later that some stayed behind and crammed the passengers into the coach and made your father take the driver’s seat.” He shook his head. “I’d never have gone along with that, ma’am. Never. Not an old feller like your father.”

  Neither Nash nor the girl said anything. Link Somers merely leaned on the counter, arms folded across his chest, his face blank.

  “Now, you were there, Link,” Hansen said. “You tell ’em.”

  “Mr. Hansen’s tellin’ the truth,” Somers said and he spoke so quickly and smoothly, right on cue, that Nash knew he had been primed just for this question. “He rode off with most of his crew. Hank Nolan made your father climb up into the driver’s seat, señorita. Dodd and Coogan and Pepper were with him. Now they’re all dead.”

  “And so is Kid Regan,” Hansen said. “He was innocent of that part too, Nash!”

  Nash shrugged, holding the man’s gaze until the rancher glanced away. Then the Wells Fargo man shifted his eyes to Somers’ cocky face and finally looked down at the girl. She was as angry looking as ever.