Riders Of the Dawn (1980)

by L'amour, Louis

  Morgan Park came off his chair with a roar. He lunge d and came up fast, and I smashed him in the teeth with a left.

  His lips flattened and blood showered from his mouth, an d then I threw a right that caught him flush on the chin—and I t hrew it hard!

  He blinked, but he never stopped coming, and he rushe d me, swinging with both of those huge, ironlike fists. One o f them rang bells on my skull, and the other dug for m y midsection with a blow I partially blocked with an elbow.

  Then I turned with his arm over my shoulder and threw hi m bodily across the floor against the bar rail. He came up fast , and I nailed him with another left. Then he caught me wit h both hands, and sparks danced among the stars in my skull.

  That old smoky taste came up inside of me, and the taste o f blood in my mouth, and I walked in smashing with bot h hands! Something busted on his face, and his brow was cut t o the bone. The blood was running all over him.

  There was a crowd around, and they were yelling, but I h eard no sound. I walked in, bobbing and weaving to miss a s many of those jarring, brutal blows as possible, but they kep t landing and battering me. He knocked me hack into the ba r and then grabbed a bottle. He took a terrific cut at my skul l and I ducked, smashing him in the ribs. He staggered an d sprawled out of balance from the force of his missed swing , and I rushed him and took a flying leap at his shoulders. I l anded astride and jammed both spurs into his thighs, and h e let out a roar of agony.

  I went over his head, lighting on all fours, and he spran g atop my back. I flattened out on the floor with the feelin g that he had me. He was yelling like a madman, and h e grabbed my hair and began to heat my head against the floor.

  How I did it I’ll never know, but I bowed my back under hi s weight and forced myself to my hands and knees. He rippe d at me with his own spurs, and then I got his leg and thre w him off.

  Coining up together we circled, more wary now. His shir t was in ribbons, and he was covered with blood. I’d neve r seen Morgan stripped before. He had a chest and shoulder s like a Hercules. He circled and then came into me, snarling.

  I nailed that snarl into his teeth with both fists, and w e stood there swinging free with both hands, rocking with th e power of those punches and smelling of sweat, blood, and fury.

  He backed up and I went into him. Suddenly he caugh t my upper arms, and dropping he put a foot in my stomac h and threw me over his head!

  For a fleeting instant I was flying through the air, an d then I lit on a poker table and grabbed the sides with bot h hands. It went over on top of me, and that was all that save d me as he rushed in to finish me with the boots. I shove d the table at him and came up off the _floor, and he hit m e again and I went right back down. He dropped a big palm o n my head and shoved me at the floor. I sprawled out and h e kicked me in the side. It missed my ribs and glanced off my gun belt, and I rolled over and grabbed his boot, twisting hard!

  It threw him off balance and he hit the floor, which gav e me a chance to get on my feet. I got him just as he wa s halfway up with a right that knocked him through the doo r and out onto the porch. I’ hit the porch in a jump, and h e tackled me around the knees. We both were down then, an d I slapped him with a cupped hand over his ear and kne w from the way he let go that I’d busted an eardrum for him. I d ropped him again with a solid right to the chin, and stoo d back, gasping and pain-wracked, fighting for breath. He go t up more slowly, and I nailed him left and right in the mout h and he went clown heavily.

  Sprawled out, he lay there on the edge of the walk, on e hand trailing in the dust, and I stared down at him. He wa s finished, through! Turning on my heels I walked back inside , and brushing off those who crowded around me I headed fo r the bar. I took the glass of whiskey that was shoved at me an d poured it in my hands and mopped the cuts on the lower par t of my face with it. Then I took a quick gulp from anothe r glass they put before me and turned.

  Morgan Park was standing three feet away from me, a bloody, battered giant with cold, ugly fury blazing from hi s eyes. “Give me a drink!” he bellowed.

  He picked up the glass and tossed it off. “Another!” h e yelled, while I stared at him. He picked that up, lifted it t o his lips, and then threw it in my eyes!

  I must have blinked, for instead of getting the shot-glas s full, I got only part of it, but enough to blind me. And the n he stepped close. As I fought for sight I caught a glimpse o f his hoot toes, wide spread, and I was amazed that such a bi g man had such small feet. Then he hit me. It felt like a blo w from an ax, and it knocked me into the bar. He faced around , taking his time, and smashed one into my body, and I wen t down, gasping for breath. He kicked at me with the toe of on e of those deadly boots that could have put an eye out, but th e kick glanced off the side of my head and I went down.

  It was my turn to be down and out. Then somebod y drenched me with a bucket of water and I looked up. Ke y Chapin was standing over me, but it was not Key Chapi n who had thrown the water. It was Olga.

  Right then I was only amazed that she was there at all , and then I got up shakily and somebody said, “There he is!” a nd I saw Park standing there with his hands on his hips , leering at me, and with the same mutual hatred we wen t for each other again.

  How we did it I don’t know. Both of us had take n beatings that would have killed a horse. All I knew was tha t time for me had stopped. Only one thing remained. I had t o whip that man, whip him or kill him with my bare hands, an d I was not stopping until I was sure I had done it.

  “Stop it, you crazy fools! Stop it or I’ll throw you both i n jail!” Sheriff Will Tharp was standing in the door with a gu n on mine . His cold blue eyes were blazing.

  Behind him were maybe twenty men staring at us. On e of them was Key Chapin. Another was Bodie Miller.

  “Take him out of here, then,” I said. “If he wants mor e of this he can have it in the morning.”

  Park backed toward the door and then turned away. He looked punch-drunk. f ace . A fter that I sat up for an hour putting hot water on m y Then I went to the livery stable and crawled into th e loft, taking a blanket with me. I had worn my guns and ha d my rifle along.

  How long I slept I have no idea, except that when I a wakened bright sunlight was streaming through the cracks i n the walls of the old stable. The loft was like an oven with th e heat. Sitting up, I touched my face. It was sore, all right, bu t felt better. I worked my fingers to loosen them up and the n heard a movement and looked around. Morgan Park was o n the ladder staring at me. And I knew then that I was no t looking at a sane man.

  Chapter 10

  He stood there on the ladder in that hot old barn, staring a t me with hatred, with a fury that seemed no whit abated fro m the previous night.

  You back again?” I spoke quietly, yet lay poised fo r instant movement. I knew now the tremendous vitality tha t huge body held. “After the way I licked you last night?”

  The veins distended in his brow and throat. “Whippe d me?” His voice was hoarse with anger. “Why, you— He started over the end of the ladder, and I let him come. Righ t then I could have cooled him, knocked him off that ladder , but something within me wouldn’t allow it. With a lesse r man, one I could have whipped easily, I might have done i t just to end the fighting, but not with Morgan Park. Righ t then I knew I had to whip him fairly, or I could never b e quite comfortable again.

  He straightened from the ladder, and I could see that h e was a little stiff. Well, so was I. But inv boxing with Mulvane y and the riding I had done had been keeping me in trim. My condition was better than his, almost enough to neutralize hi s greater size and strength. He straightened and turned towar d me. He did not rush, just stood there studying me with coo l calculation, and I knew that he, too, had come here to mak e an end to this fight and to me.

  Right then he was studying how best to whip me, an d suddenly I perceived his advantage. In the loft—one sid e open to the barn, the rest of it stacked with hay—I wa s distinctly at a disadvantage.
Here his weight and strengt h could be decisive. He moved toward me, backing me towar d the hay. I feinted, but he did not strike. He merely move d on in, his head hunched behind a big shoulder, his fists before him, moving slightly. Then he lunged. My back came u p against the slanting wall of hay and my feet slipped. Of f balance, lying against the hay, I had no power in my blows.

  With cold. brutality he began to swing. His eyes were exultant and wicked with sadistic delight. Lights exploded in m y brain, and then another punch hit me, and another.

  My head spinning, lily mouth tasting of smoke, I le t myself slide to a sitting position and then threw my weigh t sidewise against his knees. He staggered, and fearing the fal l off the edge of the loft, fought for balance. Instantly, I smashe d him in the mouth. He went to his haunches, and I spran g past him, grabbed a rope that hung from the rafters, an d dropped to the hard-packed earth of the barn’s floor.

  He turned and glared at me, and I waited. A ma n appeared in the door, and I heard him yell, ‘They’re at i t again!” And then Morgan Park clambered down the ladde r and turned to me.

  Now it had to be ended. Moving in quickly, I jabbed a stiff left to his face. The punch landed on his lacerated mout h and started the blood. Circling carefully, I slipped a right an d countered with a right to the ribs. Then I hit him, fast an d rolling my shoulders, with a left and right to the face. He came in, but I slipped another punch and uppercut hard t o the wind. That slowed him down. He hit me with a glancin g left and took two punches in return.

  He looked sick now, and I moved in, smashing him o n the chin with both hands. He backed up, bewildered, and I k nocked his left aside and hit him on the chin. He went to hi s knees and I stepped back and let him get up.

  Behind me, there was a crowd and I knew it. Waiting, I l et him get up. He wiped off his hands and then lunged at me , head down and swinging! Sidestepping swiftly, I evaded th e rush, and when he tried it again I dropped my palm to th e top of his head and spun him. At the same instant I uppercu t with a wicked right that straightened him up. He turne d toward me, and then I pulled the trigger on a high hard one.

  It struck his chin with the solid thud of the butt end of an a x striking a log.

  He fell—not over backwards, but face down. He lay ther e still and quiet, unmoving. Out cold.

  Sodden with weariness and fed up with fighting for once , I turned away from him and picked up my hat and rifle.

  Nobody said anything, staring at my battered face and tor n clothing. Then they walked to him.

  At the door I met Sheriff Tharp. He glared at me.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stop fighting in this town, Sabre?”

  “What am I going to do? Let him beat my head off? I c ame here to sleep without interruption, and he followed me , found me this morning.” Jerking my head toward the barn’s interior, I told him, “You’ll find him in there, Tharp.”

  He hesitated. “Better have some rest, Sabre. Then rid e out of town for a few days. After all, I have to have peace. I’m arresting Park.”

  “Not for fighting?”

  For murder. This morning I received an official communication confirming your message.”

  Actually, I was sorry for Park. No man ever hates a ma n he has whipped in a hand-to-hand fight. All I wanted no w was sleep, food, and gallons of cold spring water. Right then I f elt as if it had been weeks since I’d had a decent drink.

  Yet all the way to O’Hara’s I kept remembering tha t bucket of water doused over me the night before . Had i t really been Olga Maclaren there? Or had I been out of m y head from the punches I’d taken?

  When my face was washed off I came into the restaurant , and the first person I saw was Key Chapin. He looked at m y face and shook his head.” I’d never believe anything huma n could fight the way you two did!” he exclaimed. “And agai n this morning! I hear you whipped him good this time.”

  “Yeah.” I was tired of it all. Somberly, I ate breakfast , listening to the drone of voices in my ears.

  “Booker’s still in town.” Chapin was speaking.” What’s h e after, I wonder?”

  Right then I did not care, but as I ate and drank coffee , my mind began to function once more. After all, this was m y country. I belonged here. For the first time I really felt that I b elonged someplace.

  “Am I crazy, or was Olga here last night?”

  “She was here, all right. She saw part of your fight.”

  “Did she leave?”

  “I think not. I believe she’s staying over at Doc and Mrs.

  West’s place. They’re old friends of hers.” Chapin knocke d out his pipe. “As a matter of fact, you’d better go over ther e and have him look at those cuts. One of them at least need s some stitches.”

  “Tharp arrested Park.”

  “Yes, I know. Park is Cantwell, all right.” .

  Out in the air I felt better. With food and sonic stron g black coffee inside of me I felt like . A new man, and th e mountain air was fresh and good to the taste. Turning, I s tarted up the street, walking slowly. This was Hattan’s. Thi s was my town. Here, in this place, I would remain. I woul d ranch here, graze my cattle, rear my sons to manhood. Her e I would take my place in the world and be something mor e than the careless, cheerful, trouble-hunting rider. Here, i n this place, I belonged.

  Doc West lived in a small white cottage surrounded b y rose hushes and shrouded in vines. Several tall poplars reache d toward the sky , and there was a small patch of lawn inside th e white picket fence.

  He answered the door at my rap, a tall, austere-lookin g man with gray hair and keen blue eyes. He smiled at me.

  “You’re Matt Sabre? I was expecting you.”

  That made me grin. “With a face like this, you shoul d expect me. I took a licking for a while.”

  “And gave one to Morgan Park. I have just come fro m the jail, where I looked him over. He has three broken rib s and his jaw is broken.”

  “No!” I stared at him.

  He nodded. “The ribs were broken last night sometime , I’d guess.”

  “There was no quit in him.”

  West nodded seriously. “There still isn’t. He’s a dangerous man, Sabre. A very dangerous man.”

  That I knew. Looking around, I saw nothing of Olg a Maclaren. Hesitating to ask, I waited and let him work o n me. When he was finished I got to my feet and buckled o n my guns.

  “And now?” he asked.

  “Back to the Two Bar. There’s work to do there.”

  He nodded, but seemed to be hesitating about something. Then he asked, “What about the murder of Ru d Maclaren? What’s your view on that?”

  Something occurred to me then that I had forgotten. “I t was Morgan Park,” I said. “Canaval found the footprint of a man nearby. The boots were very small. Morgan Park—and I n oticed it for the first time during our fight—has very smal l feet despite his size.”

  “You may be right,” he agreed, hesitantly. “I’ve wondered.”

  “Who else could it have been? I know I didn’t do it.”

  “I don’t believe you did, but—” He hesitated and the n dropped the subject.

  Slowly, I walked out to the porch and stopped there , fitting my hat on my head. It had be done gently, for I ha d two good-sized lumps just at my hairline. A movement mad e me turn, and Olga was standing in the doorway.

  Her dark hair was piled on her head, the first time I ha d seen it that way, and she was wearing something green an d summery that made her eyes an even deeper green. For a long moment neither of us spoke, and then she said, “You r face—does it hurt very much?”

  Not much. It mostly just looks bad, and I’ll probabl y not be able to shave for a while. How’s Canaval?”

  “He’s much better. I’ve put Fox to running the ranch.”

  “He’s a good man.” I twisted my hat in my hands.

  “When are you going back?”

  “Tomorrow., I believe.”

  How lovely she was! At this moment I kne
w that I ha d never in all my life seen anything so, lovely, or anyone s o desirable, or anyone who meant so much to me. It wa s strange, all of it. But how did she feel toward me?

  “You’re staying on the Two Bar?”

  “Yes, my house is coming along now, and the cattle ar e doing well. I’ve started something there, and I think I’ll stay.

  This,” I said quietly, “is my home. This is my country. This i s where I belong.

  She looked up, and as our eyes met I thought she wa s going to speak, but she said nothing. Then I stepped quickl y to her and took her hands. “Olga! You can’t really believ e that I killed your father? You can’t believe I ever would d o such a thing?”

  “No. I never really believed you’d killed him.”

  “Then—”

  She said nothing, not meeting my eyes.

  “I want you, Olga. You, more than anything. I want yo u on the Two Bar. You are the reason I have stayed here, an d you are the reason I am going to remain.”

  “Don’t. Don’t talk like that. We can never be anythin g to each other.”

  “What are you saying? You can’t mean that!”

  “I do mean it. You—you’re violent! You’re a killer! You’v e killed men here, and I think you live for fighting! I watche d you in that fight with Morgan! You—you actually enjoyed it!”

  Thinking that over, I had to agree. “In a way, yes. Afte r all, fighting has been a necessity too long in the life of me n upon earth. It is not an easy thing to he rid of. Mentally, I k now that violence is always a bad means to an end. I kno w that all disputes should be settled without it. Nevertheless , deep inside me there is something that does like it. It is to o old a feeling to die out quickly, and as long as there are me n in the world like Morgan Park, the Pinders, and Bodie Miller , there must be men willing and able to fight them.”

  “But why does it have to be you?” She looked up at m e quickly. “Don’t fight anymore, Matt! Stay on the Two Bar fo r a while! Don’t come to town! I don’t want you to meet Bodi e Miller! You mustn’t! You mustn’t!”