Walkers Creek - A Western

by R. Bentley Davies

  He gets up from the chair carefully and feels a little shaky on his feet. He tries to hide it and look confident but it's probably not much more successful than a drunk man trying to look sober.

  'How much do I owe you?' he asks the barber.

  He pays willingly and adds a little extra to show his thanks. And he doesn't forget to pay for the shave he'd had when he first came to town.

  'You'll come back in a couple of weeks so I can take the stitches out?'

  He doesn't want to say that he has no intention of staying in Walkers Creek more than a day or two. He just nods.

  He heads out into the street with Wilson, all the while feeling a little stronger. He keeps flexing and testing the arm to see how much use he can get from it.

  'Where are we headed now?' Logan asks as they stand beside the horses.

  'We need to find Mr Humby again.' Wilson says. 'And let's hope for your sake that he didn't come into any trouble while you were running around getting shot.'

  He really doesn't care what may or may not have befallen Humby. He wonders about Emily, but she was quite certain that she didn't want to have anything to do with him any more so he tells himself that there's little point in caring about her wellbeing.

  'She escaped?' Logan pauses as he overhears a voice. His horse is between him and the speaker.

  'She didn't just escape. She made me look a fool.'

  That second voice is unmistakably McLaren.

  Wilson steps forward to untie the horses but Logan nudges him and signals to be quiet and listen.

  'I'm going to get a posse together,' McLaren says, 'we can teach her a lesson.'

  'Won't Humby have something to say about that? I mean, it's his girl we're talking about here.'

  'He tied her up and threw her in his office and locked the door. He's not going to have much to say about what I do to her.'

  Logan is startled by this revelation. Judging by the look on his face, so is Wilson.

  'Come on,' says McLaren, 'we can get some more guns from the saloon.'

  Their spurs click as they walk away toward the saloon.

  'What do you think they're planning?' Logan asks Wilson.

  'I don't know, but I don't like it. We need to get to the ranch before them.'

  'You think Humby is in trouble there?'

  Wilson shakes his head. 'I doubt Mr Humby is there. Maybe nobody is there. You're too full of questions,' he says exasperated, 'Just do as I tell you. Get on your horse and let's get out of here before McLaren comes back out.'

  Logan wriggles up into his saddle with the help of his good arm and gritting his teeth against the discomfort in his arm he kicks his horse back towards the ranch.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  She pats the nose of Mannion's horse as it stands tied up outside the deserted ranch house. Laura and Billy are still cowering in his room, but everyone else has gone. Someone has opened the gate to the corral and the horses are gone too. Mannion's horse that carried her from the town is the only creature to be seen.

  She blinks back a tear as she thinks about how things have turned out. She strived so hard to keep the ranch as the prosperous, thriving success that she inherited, and yet it refused to do what she willed for it. Her men seem not to have respected her. After all, maybe Frank Lake is no worse than any of them. She resolves to do something to help him, if only to spite the others who mutinied against her so completely.

  Humby will come again, of that she can be sure. It unsettles her, but she knows of nowhere that feels safer than the home she was born in.

  The loneliness brings to mind the feeling she had that night when she sat on this porch waiting for her father to come home. Sanchez pleaded with her to come inside, to go to bed, that he'd be back in the morning, but she knew, somehow she knew, that he wasn't ever coming back again. That emptiness inside. This emptiness inside. Back then she stayed out waiting, not wanting to admit that it was over, not wanting to give up hope. But there is no hope. The ranch is empty and all that made it feel safe and homely has gone. She knows she should saddle up her horse and run away. Run away from Humby and his threats, from McLaren and his inevitable revenge. She should run, but where to? She has nowhere to go. She wishes Sanchez were here, she would take his advice, he would make everything alright.

  There is a noise inside the house, but it is just Laura and Billy. She finds herself thinking of them like children, disregarding them. They have no solution to offer for her plight.

  She watches the road, not really knowing what she is watching for. Her father returning? Sanchez? Humby? She aches to see something coming up the road. Anything. Anyone. Just something that will break the spell, the feeling of emptiness.

  The cloud of dust makes her heart leap. Someone is coming. Who it is suddenly matters. The spell is broken and her instinct for self-defense takes over. She snatches up the rifle and steps out to meet whoever is coming. She cannot make out who they are or even how many, but she already has the safety catch off and a cartridge in the breech.

  As it gets closer the dust cloud becomes two and she sees two horses and their riders. The first looks to be dressed in black. It's that deputy who has been following her. She raises the rifle.

  He's too far away to shoot, but he's riding quickly. Why has he come back? Is that Humby behind him? She screws up her eyes trying to make him out but she cannot see who the second rider is. He seems to be riding awkwardly. Is it Humby, trying to hide his identity from her? He would be too proud to do that. If Humby was riding up to the ranch he'd have his stupid arrogant head held high. No, whoever it might be, it won't be Humby. She lowers the rifle a little and waits.

  Now they are in range. Shouting distance. They make no attempt to hail her though and just keep riding. Impatient, she raises the rifle again and squeezes the trigger.

  Dirt kicks up in front of Wilson's horse and it rears in surprise. The riders stop.

  'Miss Nixon,' Wilson yells, 'please don't shoot.'

  'Why the hell not?' she yells back, readying herself for a second shot.

  'We've come to help,' he calls, and then the wind takes the rest of his words.

  'I don't need your help.'

  'I can't hear you,' he calls back.

  'Okay. Come slowly.' The rifle is still at her shoulder.

  Wilson and the other rider come steadily closer and she watches them intently over the sights of the rifle. The second rider is clearer now. He has a white hat. A white hat? Can it be Logan? Why is he riding so awkwardly? Has he been injured?

  Why should she care if Logan has been injured? He lied to her, he brought Humby here to kidnap her. She has no reason to be interested in his wellbeing. She still hopes he is alright. After all, he got that injury running away from her house rather than getting involved in Humby's tricks. She wants him to be okay. Did Wilson say they were coming to offer help or because they needed help? She feels again how frightened she was bringing Billy back to the ranch with his wounds and how it felt to be desperate for someone to help.

  'Laura! Come quickly.' She shouts. Laura will know what to do.

  Logan tries to brush her away as he struggles down from the saddle insisting that it is only a scratch and is already taken care of, but his eyes look a little unfocussed and he wobbles a little as she helps him to the porch.

  'What happened?' She asks quietly. 'Who did this?'

  Logan shakes his head. He doesn't seem to want to say.

  'Was it him?' she asks, pointing at Wilson. 'Did he do this to you?'

  Logan shakes his head.

  Laura takes a cursory glance at his arm. 'He's been well bandaged already. You don't need my help. I'll fetch him something to drink.

  'What happened with Humby?' he asks.

  It's her turn to shake her head. She doesn't want to tell that tale just yet. It wasn't very pleasant to live through and she doesn't want to go over it again.

  'I thought he took you to town?' Wilson asks. He has been standing a little way off, watching the dist
ance as usual, but he has been listening.

  'I came back,' she says. Please don't ask for more detail than that. Don't make me relive it.

  'Just like that. You came back.' Wilson says quietly, still watching the road and the hill tops. 'Isn't that Mannion's horse over there?' He still isn't making eye contact.

  He isn't going to leave it alone is he? Does she tell them that she escaped? That she duped McLaren? Maybe she should lie and say that he let her go, that he sent her home.

  'I'm thinking Miss Nixon,' Wilson goes on, 'that you're a very clever and resourceful woman and you've picked your moment and slipped away and that Mr. Humby isn't going to be right pleased about that. And when he finds out you ain't there he's going to come right out here looking for you.' He turns to look at her. 'Am I right?'

  She nods, only slightly and involuntarily but it is enough.

  'He won't come alone. You shouldn't stay here. Do you have someplace you could go for a couple of days while we try to talk some sense into him?'

  That baffles her. Wilson is Humby's man, his servant. He does as he's asked, watches the man's back. What does he mean about talking sense in Humby? Why isn't he just tying her up and waiting for his boss to arrive?

  'I'm on your side Miss Nixon. I know you don't believe me right now, but I am looking out for you. Now is there someplace you can go? You don't have to tell me where it is if that's what's troubling you.'

  She shakes her head. A tear escapes, unbidden, and rolls down her cheek.

  'This is my home.'

  Wilson thinks for a moment. Logan thanks Laura for the cup of cold water that she has brought out for him.

  'Who else is here?' Wilson asks eventually.

  'Nobody.' Laura says quickly.

  'Nobody?'

  'All the ranch hands had left by the time I got back from town. The house is deserted apart from us,' Emily says.

  Logan and Laura exchange a look and Emily sees that Logan knows about Billy. Nobody wants to mention him to Wilson. Wilson is a deputy.

  'There aren't enough of us to defend a place this big.' Wilson says, looking at the house and taking in how many windows and doors it has.

  'Defend it? This is a home, not a fortress. You come in here dragging a wounded man and start talking as though you're expecting a pitched gun battle. Do you mind telling me what's going on?'

  'It's in my nature to be cautious and to expect the worst Miss. I hope I'm wrong and that nobody comes, but my experience of Mr. Humby suggests he doesn't much like people saying "No" to him.'

  'Why not just saddle up the horses.' Logan says, looking a little recovered. 'At the first sign of trouble we can ride off. It's not ideal, and we'll be chased, but it beats running away from nothing.'

  'Horses? Aren't you forgetting something?' Laura gestures into the house.

  'Oh, yes. I see. We'll need to hitch up a wagon for the ladies too.'

  'A wagon for the ladies? Miss Nixon can ride a horse better than you Tanner.' Wilson looks puzzled.

  'The trap is still in town. Everyone would need to ride a horse.' Emily says, ignoring him.

  'That's probably better, we can travel rougher ground that way. Come on.' Logan struggles to his feet, 'we'll need to pack food and water and blankets.'

  Laura and Emily watch him standing as though they expect him to fall over like a drunkard.

  'I'm fine. I just needed some water to drink. We should get to work. Leave him.' He points at Wilson, 'Leave him doing what he does best and keeping a lookout. We'll get packed. It'll be okay, he's overreacting, nothing will happen, but if we're packing up it'll give us something to take our minds off the possibility that he might be right.'

  They head inside the house, leaving Wilson patrolling outside.

  'What's going on?' Laura hisses. 'He's a deputy. What's he doing here? He's acting as though he's protecting us rather than spying on us. I don't like it.'

  'It sort of took me my surprise too.' Logan says. 'But he did save my life back there so I feel kind of obliged to take him at his word.'

  'Yes, what did happen back there. Who shot you?' Emily says.

  Logan shakes his head again as though he doesn't want to tell the story.

  'It doesn't matter now.' He says.

  'But you expect us to trust that the man who was my shadow is now my protector? How do I know that he isn't waiting for his friends to attack the house so that he can join in? I've only got your word for that. Come to think of it, how do I know that you're not one of them either? After all, you rode in here with Humby and--'

  Logan stops her by grabbing her round the waist with his good arm and planting a kiss firmly on her lips. She struggles with surprise and indignation. How dare he? Who does he think he is? He's Logan, the man you've been wanting to kiss like this since you met him. She submits to the kiss and savors the feel and the smell and the taste of him.

  He lets her go.

  She can feel herself grinning stupidly and makes an effort to stop.

  'I don't think anyone is going to attack us here.' He says, almost as though the kiss hadn't happened, 'But I don't know enough about the strange ways of Walkers Creek to be certain. Wilson out there seems to have a sixth sense for these things and I'd be inclined to take his misgivings seriously. We should get packed up as though we intend to camp out in the hills for a week. Blankets, water, some food, whatever you've got. And guns, we'll need guns too.'

  'We're going to have to tell him about Billy.' Emily says.

  'More to the point, you're going to have to tell Billy about him. He's not going to like it that there's a deputy in the house.' Laura says.

  'Billy might be safer if we leave him behind.' Logan says. Laura looks horrified. 'If we're running away, the chances are they'll ignore the house and follow us. They may never find him. I can't imagine it'll do his healing much good trying to ride a horse.'

  'Who's going to look after him? I can't run away and leave him here.'

  'Okay I guess you could stay behind too and Miss Nixon and Wilson and I would--'He starts shaking his head. 'No that's not going to work. Three of us won't be enough to act as a decoy.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I mean you're going to have to go and talk to Billy.'

  She finds herself watching the preparations with an odd detachment. That kiss sticks in her mind. She can still taste him on her lips and each time she does it brings it back to her. Does he feel the same way about her? He seems so detached and busy as he moves quickly about the house gathering up the things they will need. He has recovered from his wound, apart from not being able to use that arm. Laura has put it in a sling for him to keep it out of the way.

  When she isn't thinking about Logan she is worrying about Sanchez. What if he comes back now? Will Wilson not recognize him and start shooting? What if Sanchez arrives back after they have gone? What will he find in the house? How will he react when he sees that all the ranch hands have left? She doesn't want to think about it. The ranch is worthless with nobody to work it.

  Wilson comes in from outside.

  'There are riders on the road now. I can see their dust. They're moving quite fast,' he says.

  'McLaren?' Logan asks.

  'Wait,' she says, 'you didn't say anything about McLaren before. You said you weren't sure anything was going to happen but that Humby might come back. Now it sounds like you knew all along that McLaren was coming for me. Tell me what's going on. I'm a big girl, you don't need to hide stuff from me.'

  'We overheard McLaren trying to get up a posse in town. This could be them,' he explains.

  'I can't tell who it is,' Wilson interrupts. 'Grab a couple of rifles. We can get a clear shot from the windows at the far end.'

  Logan grabs a rifle and passes it to Wilson. He reaches for Emily's rifle but she snatches it back.

  'No.' She says, 'I may not be brilliant with a rifle Mr. Tanner, but I'm pretty sure I can hit a target better than a man with one arm.'

  Wilson nods and turns to lead the
way to the windows he has in mind. She follows him. She looks at the sweat that is sticking his black shirt to his back and watches the way he strides purposefully through her house without once looking back to see if she is following him. Why is she following him? She still isn't sure what is happening, it all seems somehow unreal, like a bad dream. Maybe Humby gave her a drug when he kidnapped her and she is really unconscious and dreaming all this. Maybe she dreamed the kidnap too and will wake up on her porch.

  Wilson crouches down by the window. The riders are clearer now. There are five of them. They have slowed their horses to a walk. Wilson carefully knocks out a small piece of glass with the barrel of the rifle. She wants to complain, as the glass tinkles out onto the stones outside. This is her house. He shouldn't be damaging her property like this.

  He turns to her and gestures impatiently that she should go to the next window. She crouches down and reluctantly breaks the window glass the same way that he did. Maybe it isn't McLaren after all and it's just the ranch hands come back to apologize? She will regret the windows if that is the case.

  Wilson fires.

  The riders are barely in range but the shot scatters them off the road and behind trees and boulders.

  'Should you have done that?' She asks. 'We don't even know who they are yet.'

  'The man at the front was McLaren.'

  So he has worked out that she duped him and has brought men to help him. She wriggles out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  'Who were the others?'

  'Various low-lifes that spend their time in the saloon. I'd be surprised if any of them is sober enough to pose a serious threat. I thought I'd take the chance that a couple of well-placed rifle rounds would make them think twice and head back to the safety of their whisky bottle. I imagine that's what they're thinking about right now.'

  'Or we've warned them that we're watching for them and they'll try to sneak up on us instead.'