There was a long moment’s silence. Blake walked back to the door and tried the knob. He was surprised to find the door unlocked. He eased it open and stepped inside, then waited as he heard Christine’s excited muttering about the sheen of something silken. Blake went down the narrow passageway. When he stepped into the room, Pete Doubell was stooped over the fireplace raking at the coals.
Christine gasped at the sight of Blake Durant. Pete Doubell swung about. His eyes were only pinpoints of light as his bush-white brows crowded them. He let out a sharp curse and then dived to the side. His hand was on the stock of his rifle when Blake stepped up to him and kicked the gun from his hand. Doubell came upright, swinging a wild right hand. Blake caught the old man’s wrist and then exerted just enough pressure to bend the arm back, bringing a grunt of pain from Doubell.
“Lemme go,” Doubell breathed.
Blake pushed him aside and said, “You’ve been having things too much your own way, Doubell.”
Pete Doubell swore viciously. His outburst brought another gasp from Christine. Blake pushed Doubell onto a divan. But Doubell fought back, swinging and kicking viciously. One punch landed on Blake’s forehead. To keep the old-timer from getting badly hurt in his anger, he clipped him neatly on the point of the jaw and sent him reeling back against the divan. Doubell made a throaty sound and his head dropped onto his chest.
Christine went lunging at Blake. She began to scratch at his face. When he knocked her hands aside she came in even more fiercely, hands clenched into fists now, pounding at his chest. Blake caught her wrists and held her still, then he said, very quietly:
“For your own good, Miss Doubell, you better listen to me. Your uncle, whether you want to believe it or not, isn’t what he makes himself out to be. In fact, he’s a thieving jasper whose claim-jumping has drawn a heap of hell-crazy men to his tail.”
Christine still tried to pound her fists at him, but her struggles soon left her weak and helpless. Blake eased her onto the divan beside Doubell. “He isn’t hurt,” Blake said. “Most likely faking, as usual.”
Doubell’s left eye opened and Blake caught its angry glare. He smiled wryly and sat on the edge of the divan. “Doubell,” he said, “you’re a damn fool to get your niece into the trouble your gold-greed brought about. She isn’t used to this kind of thing and all she can get out of it is misery.”
“It ain’t none of your damn business,” Doubell growled. “Get to blazes outa my house or I’ll call the law!”
Blake’s grin widened. “You’d risk that, Doubell?”
The old hardcase said something under his breath. Christine sat rubbing her wrists, unable to take her eyes off Blake Durant. The strength of the man amazed her. But his coolness angered her more than anything else.
“Why don’t you go hurt somebody else?” she said, her voice trembling. “My uncle is an old man and I’m a woman. Is this what makes you feel like a big man, pushing people like us around?”
“Your uncle, Miss Doubell, is a sneaky, conniving rascal of the first order. Not only that, he’s responsible for the killing of two innocent men.”
Doubell got up from the divan, rubbing his jaw. His eyes were alive with hatred. “Shut your damn interferin’ mouth, Durant. She ain’t got nothin’ to do with this.”
“I know that, Doubell. Are you ready to ride?”
“Ride?”
Blake nodded. “Back to Sheriff Coulston. He wants to talk to you. So does Reke Bodie and his friends. Carter will get to you first if you don’t go back. Do it my way and Carter will be no threat.”
“You can go to blazes, Durant! I never killed anybody. Coulston ain’t got nothin’ on me.”
“He wants to save your hide, you damn old fool. I’m buyin’ into this thing only because of Christine. If somebody kills you, what in hell happens to her?”
“She’ll be all right. Nobody’s gonna kill me either. I know what I’m doin’, Durant, so why don’t you go bury yourself?”
Blake picked the old man’s rifle from the floor and tossed it to him. “Bodie’s on your trail, mister, and he’s coming up fast. As for Carter, as soon as he realizes you’ve tricked him, he’ll come gunning. Damn you, haven’t you had enough experience in these parts to know how gold fever affects people. If you take a closer look at what you’re getting into, plain common sense will tell you to head back and get Sheriff Coulston’s protection.”
“Get out!” Pete Doubell shouted. “Right away! I don’t want none of your advice and none of your help. What I got is mine. I found it. I worked it outa that damn river. Nothin’ you do or say can change things one little bit. My niece believes me, not some Johnny-come-lately lookin’ for a cut of my gold!”
Blake sighed and rubbed a hand over his neck. He walked across the room, saw Doubell lift the rifle and level it at him.
“Get movin’,” he said.
Blake walked to the door and looked out into the dark main street of Lusc. He had no responsibility here, but he couldn’t help but worry about what might happen to Christine Doubell. He glanced across his shoulder at her. She was frowning, unsure of herself, but managing to hold a surface air of composure.
He said, “I’ve been telling you the truth, Miss Doubell. Your uncle has pulled a cute trick and a lot of people are breathing down his neck, wanting to make him answer for it. I don’t know what else to say. It’s in your lap.”
Just as Blake was about to close the door behind him, six riders tore into town from the south. Blake drew back into the doorway and Christine hurried up to stand beside him. She looked anxiously at him. “Are they after Uncle Pete?” she asked.
He nodded. “Reke Bodie, a river miner, and five of his partners. They’ve got a mining company of sorts. Two of Bodie’s men were killed by Vance Carter and another two got burned up by your uncle’s shots. If you don’t feel up to betraying your uncle, at least get him to hell out of this town. Then keep riding and running.”
Blake went down the steps. Christine hesitated a moment before going after him. She stopped him at the gate by grasping his arm.
“What can I do?” she asked.
Blake shook his head. “You’ll have to work it out for yourself. It’s no longer got anything to do with me.”
“But if my uncle is a thief and a killer ...”
“He stole. I’m not sure he killed, but that doesn’t mean he’s not responsible for at least two deaths.”
Blake Durant walked on. He turned down the boardwalk and watched the Bodie outfit tie up outside the saloon. In the light of a street lamp he saw Bodie’s face, filled with bitterness. Blake drew in a sigh and dusted down his Levis. Then he collected Sundown from the hitch rail and walked him down a side street to the livery stable. After seeing him settled comfortably he went back to the saloon, entering through a rear door. Bodie stood in the middle of the room, saying:
“Some of you must’ve seen him. His horse is outside. A big, wide man, real damn sure of himself, a lady’s man. Yeller hair and he wears a yellow bandanna.”
Blake eased himself along the back wall and took out his tobacco pouch. He spilled the golden grains along a paper and slowly made himself a cigarette. Bodie had heeled about and was checking out every customer, his face grooved with impatience.
Blake said, “Lookin’ for me, Bodie?”
Bodie froze, then his hand flashed down for his gun. But Blake Durant slowly lit his cigarette, then came off the wall and blew smoke into the air. He didn’t actually look at Bodie, taking stock of his companions first, but at no time did he miss the movement of the big man.
Bodie growled, “By hell, Durant, you’ve got a nerve. I figured you’d run and keep running after what you did.”
Blake shook his head. He picked some change out of his pocket and dropped it on the rough counter. “Rye,” he told the barkeep who was sweating as much from the worry as the heat. Everybody was silent and all eyes were on him. Bodie’s five companions were grouped together, all of them making fists of their hands.
Bodie drew himself tall and walked towards Durant.
“You’ve found them then, Durant?”
“Maybe.”
Bodie’s face flushed angrily. “What do you mean, mebbe? You either have or you haven’t.”
“None of your business, Bodie.”
Bodie’s lips peeled back in a snarl of rage and he went up on the toes of his boots. “I’m makin’ it my business, Durant. Damn you, mister, you been askin’ for trouble for a long time. So far I’ve been patient but I’m right at the end of my rope. You figure I’m gonna keep takin’ your sass?”
“I don’t know and I don’t much care, mister. Drink?”
Bodie gaped at him. “Drink?” he muttered. Then a roar came out of him. “Why, damn you!”
He charged forward, throwing a heavy punch at Durant’s head. But Durant merely leaned back and the punch went over his right shoulder. He crouched low and his left smashed into Bodie’s stomach and doubled him over. He crossed with a right to the jaw and the head man toppled back, grunting in pain. Then his five companions swarmed in, jostling themselves in their eagerness to get at Durant. Blake grabbed the first of them, turned him around with a jerk of his wrist and sent him crashing into the others. Only one man, gray-haired and bristle-jawed, escaped the tangle of arms and legs which plummeted his companions to the floor across Reke Bodie’s body. Blake seized the oldster’s swinging fist, turned the hand and brought a howl of pain from the man. Blake pitched him away and he slammed into the others. The six men of Reke Bodie’s outfit struggled to free themselves from the mass of arms and legs. By the time they succeeded, Blake Durant was tasting his drink and covering them with his gun.
Vance Carter stopped his horse on the rimline and looked back over the moonlit trail. He heard the drum of hoof beats coming up from the low country. One rider. He turned his horse down the slope and worked his way back to the grasslands. From the heights he had seen the flat expanse of desert country ahead, with a bleak run of crags in the distance. Lusc. He knew Doubell could have gone no other place. Lusc was a big town, but it wasn’t nearly big enough for that sneaky old jasper to hide himself in.
Carter had no worries. He figured that what he had done to Coulston couldn’t possibly anger the lawman enough for him to break clear of his town and come after him. Not that Vance Carter worried about who dogged his trail. A lot of hellions had, and a lot of hellions had found a resting place on Boothill because of it.
Carter was on the flat country and the hoof beats sounded louder in the stillness of the night. He was tired. His eyes ached from the sun glare and wind-driven grit. He had been in the saddle almost all the previous night and throughout the whole of the past day. He was sick of saddle creak. He was sick of looking for Pete Doubell. But there was a way to cure the sickness ... he touched the butt of his gun.
A rider burst down a slope and came on fast. Carter drew back into the shadows of a stand of brush and drew his gun. When the rider was fifty yards away, he recognized Sheriff Coulston. Carter swore.
Why was Coulston out here? The question raked across his thoughts but his mind gave back no answer. Coulston, as he knew him, was slow-moving, slow-thinking. The lawman prided himself on the strength of his friendship with towners. He relied on that friendship and the subsequent backing it afforded. The sheriff was safe in his town.
So why had Coulston quit town and come after him? Was it because of the man he had killed near the border? Carter shook his head. No. Couldn’t be. Nobody else was there. The old-timer was dead and likely torn apart by the buzzards by now. Yet here was Coulston, riding like the devil.
Carter eased his horse out of cover. Never a man to ride away from trouble he did not fully understand, he kicked his horse into the open. Coulston came on, not seeing him until he was almost on him. He reined his mount, jerking upright in the saddle, his stare hard on Carter. Suddenly his hand shot down for his gun.
Vance Carter saw the movement and went into his moves. There was no time for talk of any kind, no time for learning what the hell ailed Ray Coulston, lawman. Carter’s gun swung up in a blur and a savage snarl came out of him. Then his gun bucked and the bullet slammed into Coulston’s chest. The lawman was lifted from the saddle and sent cart-wheeling to the ground. His hat fell off and he lay still. After a moment he tried to rise, but all his strength was gone. Vance Carter reined up his horse and quietened it after the echo of the single shot had died. Coulston’s horse had run past him, bucking and rearing. Carter rode across to where the lawman lay and saw the blood patch widening on his shirt front just below the tin star. Carter grinned and put up his gun.
“Too bad, lawman,” he muttered, then turned his horse and went on his way.
Nine – Finders are Keepers
Reke Bodie stood against the counter and rubbed his jaw hard. It was the second time that Durant had put him on the seat of his pants. The humility of that was a lot worse than the ache in his jaw and he was determined to even the score just as soon as he could. But Durant had downed his drink and left the saloon, turning his back on them, walking like a damn fool who feared nothing, including a bullet in the back. Bodie’s men crowded in close, still riled by the ease with which Durant had overpowered them. One man wiped blood from his nose, another rubbed his ribs where a companion’s boot had struck him during their struggle to regain their feet. Bodie drank off his rye and said sourly:
“Thing is, if Durant’s in town, then all the odds say Doubell’s here too. Doubell ... that’s who Coulston was talkin’ to him about back in town. And if Doubell’s here, then that girl’s with him. Now you men start lookin’ through this town and I don’t care a damn who tries to stop you goin’ anywhere. I’ll use my influence and see if I can’t get a lead on them from some of the more prominent people in town, folks who like to know who comes and who goes.”
Bodie drained his glass and slammed it down on the counter. “Then, when we find the girl and fix up that business, I’m goin’ after Durant. I got more’n just a few damn things to settle with him now.”
His companions finished their drinks in silence and made their way out of the saloon after Bodie. On the boardwalk they stayed close together, uncertain of themselves in this town where they were strangers. All were thinking about the fact that they had allowed Reke Bodie to talk them into forming a company to work the river claim. But he had failed to keep Doubell from cheating them and he’d led them into a gunfight in which two of them had been killed and another two wounded. Finally, twice they’d been humiliated by the big man, Blake Durant.
Bodie perhaps sensing their growing doubts about him, said, “Well, get on with it, all of you. Start at the top of town. Ask as many questions as you can. Don’t forget, an old-timer and a girl as pretty as his niece wouldn’t come through here without somebody noticin’ them. They got to get lodgings, got to eat, got to get some likker for the old buzzard. Just keep at it and we’ll find them both.”
Bodie went off down the street, thinking of the gold he had lost. His whole body ached. It was the long rides on the trail, he told himself, that had let him down in his tangles with Durant. But that would soon be rectified, he muttered to himself. By hell it would.
Walking along the boardwalk he studied the store fronts intently, looking for an answer to his problem. He had no idea what Doubell’s plans might be in this town. With the girl along, he doubted if the old buzzard would keep pushing on, keep running …
Bodie went to the end of the street where he found the town jailhouse crowded between two big stores. The door of the jailhouse was open and a big bearded man sat at a desk reading a magazine. His eyes hardly shifted from the words before him but Bodie felt the burn of his look over the top of the book.
He said, “Name’s Reke Bodie. I’m lookin’ for some information.”
“Late,” the lawman said. He dropped the magazine and clamped his hands on it. He was as wide as a doorway and as heavy as any man Bodie had met in his time.
“Don’t matter if it’s late or
not, Sheriff. This is a matter of life or death.”
“Somebody after your hide, Bodie?” the lawman asked.
Bodie came into the room, giving him no answer. He stopped before the desk which was too small for the lawman’s big frame.
“I’ve been robbed,” Bodie said.
The lawman’s black brows arched. “Here in my town, mister?”
Bodie shook his head and wiped sweat from his brow. He hated asking anybody for help at any time, and the big man’s tone told him that assistance was not willingly given in this town.
“It didn’t happen here,” Bodie said. “Sheriff Ray Coulston, if you know him, could tell you more. But thing is, I’ve been robbed by an old jasper name of Doubell who hit the trail with a young woman in tow. It’s them I’m lookin’ for.”
The big man rose clumsily to his feet and picked up his gunbelt and hat. He strapped the belt about his thick waist and fitted the hat to his big head. Standing erect, he towered over Bodie by a good five inches.
“Mister, I’ve got better things to do than start looking for an old jasper with a young woman in tow. You go and find them if you like. When you locate them, come see me then. Meantime, don’t bring trouble from another place onto my doorstep. It’s too damn hot for that.”
The lawman grasped Bodie’s shoulder and steered him outside. Once on the boardwalk, Bodie swung out of his grip and barked, “Now see here, I’m a citizen of this territory and I demand my rights. I’ve made my report and it’s your duty to look into my complaint.”
“I listened, didn’t I?”
Bodie’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “Is that all you’re gonna do, just listen?”
“I reckon that’s just about it, Bodie. How much money was involved?”
“A lot. Thousands of dollars.”
“Cash money?”
“Gold dust.”
“Hard to trace.” At that the lawman went off, leaving Bodie glaring after him.
Bodie cursed freely and made to follow but when the lawman turned into the saloon, he stopped on the boardwalk and stood there mopping his brow. “Damn the man,” he said aloud, “and damn Pete Doubell to boot!” Earlier he had intended to beat some of the sass out of Doubell and force him to tell where the gold was. As long as he got the gold, he’d been prepared to let the matter lie. But now, with all the extra trouble this affair was giving him, he decided that he’d come down hard on Doubell. And on anybody else who got in his path.
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