Twin Guns

by Wick Evans

  "We were just waiting for you to invite me," she told him. "We're both packed and ready when you are."

  "You women," he growled sheepishly, "letting a man make a fool of himself."

  Curly stood holding the team by their bridles as Kirby tucked Jen into the rig, swathed in blankets and with hot bricks in the straw at her feet. Ringo and Josh were on borrowed broncs, and Kirby climbed aboard the black stud. It was a happy, light-hearted little cavalcade that left behind the muddy town streets and took the trail for Wagon. The mood lasted until they reached the fork in the trail where one track led to Lazy B, the other along the Clear to Wagon. Two horsemen were waiting at the forks: Bill and Hub Dawes.

  Kirby could see instantly that Bill had been drinking, to what extent it was hard to tell. Dawes sat his horse in silence, a sneer on his face. Bill held up his hand as they approached. He looked directly at Jen, ignoring the other riders. He swept off his hat, and Kirby felt disgust as he took in the matted, uncombed hair and unshaven cheeks. Bill's speech was thick.

  "Heard at the livery you was goin' to Wagon," he said to Jen. "You going to stay?"

  Her reply was firm, a little pitying. "It's a good place to get well, Bill," she answered.

  His voice was harsh. "You made a choice back there in town, didn't you?"

  She said nothing; her eyes locked with his.

  "Reckon you did." A spasm of something like pain crossed his face. "Nothing I can do about that. But there is something I can do… I can give you a warning. Don't think you and him will ever have Wagon. It's going to be mine. No one is going to get in my way, not even you. Just remember this: bullets make quick widows." He jerked savagely on his reins and gigged his horse into a dead run so quickly that Kirby never had a chance to speak. Dawes followed, an ugly laugh floating over his shoulder.

  Josh attempted to break the shocked silence. "He was drunk," he said to no one in particular. Curly clucked to the team. "Git up, horses." The little party felt the constraint the rest of the way in to headquarters, and as if in keeping with their somber mood, the sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds as they rode into the yard.

  Kirby carried Jen tenderly into her old room… a room that had been left untouched except for Maria's daily cleaning. Manuel had built a fire in the fireplace and the crackling logs were so cheerful that they began to feel better. Maria sent Kirby away while she got Jen into bed, and he waited impatiently.

  She looked tiny, lost in the big four-poster. She looked tired… from the trip, and because of the strain of the rough meeting at the fork in the trails. But as she raised her lips for his kiss she whispered, "I'm happier than I've been for a long time, Kirby… in spite of what Bill said."

  "You belong here," he told her. "Won't you stay… always?"

  She laid a soft finger across his lips. "Sometime soon we'll talk about that," she answered. He felt a chill premonition at her words.

  Maria insisted anxiously that he allow Jen to rest. Josh was in the kitchen. "You looked outside, boss?" he asked.

  Kirby went quickly to the kitchen door. He had to struggle to open the door against the force of the wind.

  The sky to the north was black, with the curious twisted look of black curly hair. The wind was beginning to sound a high, keen wail, and there was the bite of fine particles of ice against his face. As far out on the range as he could see, cattle were heading for the feeding corrals, and the saddle stock near at hand were standing huddled against their shed, tails turned to the wind. There was a flurry of activity near bunkhouse and barn, and a puncher was already stringing a safety rope. Wagon was bracing for the storm.

  He turned back into the kitchen to face Josh's worried frown. "We've made it before; we'll make it again. If there aren't but a hundred cows left by spring, we'll pull through."

  Josh nodded a sober agreement. "Guess we will," he said. "That isn't what's bothering me. I was just thinking about Bill… and Hub Dawes. This blizzard ain't goin' to stop what's comin'… it's only goin' to put it off."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  With the swift passage of days, all alike, Christmas arrived before anyone was ready or had had time to think about the holiday season. Following the grim pattern set by the first storm, a blizzard followed on the heels of heavy snow.

  Jen made a rapid improvement under Maria's constant and anxious care. It was a day for celebration when she was able to be up and about the house. And it wasn't long before an impromptu party was held in the kitchen on the afternoon she returned from her first ride, her eyes dancing and her cheeks aglow with the cold.

  Christmas on the range was a day not to be taken lightly. It was a day dedicated to neighborly visiting by many who got up before daylight and started out in order to see as many of their neighbors as possible before nightfall. Maria and Jen decorated the big living room with ornaments saved from other years and pine boughs cut in the hills. From early in the morning until mid-afternoon, when the last of the visitors rode home to attend to chores before dark, Kirby was busy. He was host at the brimming bowl of eggnog which Maria kept filled. For the men who liked refreshment with hair on its chest, there was plenty of rye and bourbon.

  The punchers completed their chores early, and the sounds of revelry from the bunkhouse increased as the level in the ten-gallon keg of bourbon Kirby had ordered for them lowered.

  The noon meal, prepared by a perspiring but happy Maria, was quickly reduced to dirty plates and well-gnawed bones. The guests and crew gathered in the yard to see Kirby's Christmas present to Jen… a beautiful little sorrel filly whose clean lines showed her thoroughbred background. Long before Christmas, Kirby and his foreman had ridden to town and ordered a saddle and rig to match the sorrel and Jen's measurements. Her face was flushed with excitement when they returned to the house, where Maria's gift was ready. Her nimble fingers had fashioned a buckskin skirt and blouse that were an exact match of the saddle and bridle. Women-like, they wept in each other's arms as Jen tried to thank her.

  When the last guest had departed, the women bundled in fur robes and the men in sheepskin-lined coats, Jen could contain herself no longer.

  "Kirby, there's still time enough for a ride before dark. Can I please try out the new mare?"

  Kirby laughed at her beseeching face. "She's been saddled for hours," he told her. "Get into your new riding outfit while I find something to ride that won't make a poor showing with your new rig." He left the house while Jen ran to change.

  An hour later they were far out on the range, riding through the hills above the Clear. As they topped a ridge after a steep climb from the river bottom, Kirby pulled in the big black gelding and got down. He stretched out his arms for Jen to slide off, and held her for a long moment before he released her, breathless. Leaving the horses ground-tied, they climbed to the top of the windswept slope and found a comfortable shelter out of the wind beneath a huge boulder.

  Far below, the Clear reflected the brilliant blue of the sky, dark stretches of the shimmering water showing the shadows of occasional clouds. Cattle were stretched out as far as they could see, grazing bare places in the snow. To the north they could see smoke rising from Lazy B headquarters and a few tiny dots that were Lazy B hands moving about the corrals. At their backs, the buildings of Wagon looked like a doll village.

  "It's a wonder we can't hear the crew clear up here," he told Jen, laughing. "There are going to be some heads down there tomorrow that will give their owners trouble steering through the bunkhouse door." Jen smiled, her eyes dreamy, her thoughts far away.

  He took a coin from his pocket. Holding it out, he grinned at her inquiring look.

  "Penny for your thoughts."

  "Doubt if you'd think they were worth so much," she answered. "I was just thinking I've got to get back to town. My pupils will be wild as mavericks."

  "Sure… some day real soon. Let's decide after the first of the year."

  "Not some day… tomorrow. I want you to take me to town tomorrow, before the weather breaks again. Yo
u know I'm completely well, and I want to have everything ready for the new school year. It'll take some time to get word around that the teacher is back." She stopped at his crestfallen expression.

  "I had started to hope you wouldn't go back at all," he said slowly. "Remember, when you first came I…"

  She stopped him. "I remember."

  "Well, then, why? You're happy at Wagon. You told me that yourself. You know how I feel about you. Jen, let's close up the house in town until they find a new schoolmarm. We can get married tomorrow. I've got to see the winter through out here, but come spring we can honeymoon in Chicago… New York… What's the matter?"

  Her eyes were filled with tears. "Please don't say any more. It sounds too wonderful, and I might let myself say something I know I don't mean. I can't marry you, Kirby. Not now, maybe never." She stopped and searched his amazed face.

  "There's too much between us. It's no good. We can't."

  "There's nothing between us, Jen. Of course if you don't love me—"

  She stopped him by pulling his lips down to her own. "That will tell you just a little of how much I love you." Breathlessly she thrust away his hungry arms and patted her rumpled curls.

  "Well, then, what's to stop two people who love each other from getting married?" He tried a somewhat feeble smile. "It's a custom I've heard is real successful."

  She tried to match his light tone, but again her eyes filled with tears and she turned away, her words almost lost in the wind whipping around their shelter.

  "Kirby, your Dad and Mother were not only the finest but the happiest people I have ever known. It seemed that each was a part of the other. What one thought, the other thought; if you hurt one the other would know it. I want us to be like that. Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to be to Wagon what Ma Street was, to fill your life the way Ma brought completion to Muddy's. But I can't do that now, not the way things are." She was crying openly and unashamedly.

  "It isn't your fault, Kirby. I suppose, in a way, it isn't Bill's either, because he's doing what he thinks is right. But when I marry, I'll give myself to my man forever and ever. If we got married tomorrow, the next day you might be lying stretched in the mud of Streeter, without ever beginning the thing that Ma and Muddy built for years."

  "If this trouble is ever over, then we'll talk about it again. But for now, I think I'd better get back to town, to the kids that need to learn their A B C's. It won't be what I want, but it will have to do. I don't ever want just a part of you, and if I married you now, with this trouble hanging over your head, I'd be getting what was left…"

  Her words were interrupted by the crash of a rifle. Her horse gave a scream of pain and fright and would have bolted had not the trailing reins caught on a rock and brought her around so quickly that she nearly stumbled and fell. Kirby raced to her, his feet slipping in the soft shale underfoot. In a moment Jen was at his side, her hair loosened and flying in the wind.

  For a moment they stared at the filly. High up on her foreleg, the saddle blanket almost covering it, an ugly round hole was beginning to ooze blood. Speaking soothingly, Kirby managed to reach the reins. Jen held her while he made a more careful examination. "The bullet didn't go clean through," he said. "It went deep enough, but it must have glanced off the bone and come out here." He lifted the saddle blanket to show her. "We'll have to get her home quick. Maybe, with luck, we can pull her through." He stared in the direction from which the single shot had come. "It's bad enough to shoot at an armed man from ambush," he said between clenched teeth, "but when they start shooting defenseless animals out of sheer spite, it's time they were stopped, once and for all."

  Jen watched his face, her eyes troubled as she stroked the trembling mare.

  "We've put off riding to Lazy B about that gather snatched across the river. I reckon the time has come to start asking some questions."

  Jen was puzzled. "But why would anyone want to shoot my horse? Maybe it was an accident… maybe they were aiming at one of us."

  Kirby shook his head. "Whoever fired that rifle was a good shot. He missed hitting a vital spot only because the filly moved at the right time."

  "But why, Kirby, why?"

  Kirby's eyes were grim, a tiny red spark beginning to glow in their depths.

  "Because she was my Christmas present to you. Because she stood for something that no one else could ever hope to have. Because you love me."

  Jen's words were so low he could hardly hear them. "Now do you see what I mean; why we can't get married now? What if it had been you that bullet had hit? What if it had been me? Don't you see what's between us? It's a shadow, Kirby, a black shadow. And there's smoke around its edges… gunsmoke."

  Wordlessly Kirby went for his black. Still without speaking, he held his hands for Jen's foot and, once she was mounted, took the reins of the mare and climbed up behind her. Silently they started slowly toward the Wagon, the filly limping behind. In Jen's eyes tears still glistened, but Kirby's had become hard as agate… the eyes of a man with a deadly purpose.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Curly came to the bunkhouse door just as Kirby and Jen rode into the yard, leading the limping bay. The hole in her shoulder had stopped bleeding, but she was hobbling on three legs and stood trembling in every muscle, her head drooping.

  Curly stared for a moment, pop-eyed, then said something to the men in the bunkhouse. In a moment they were surrounded by curious hands, whose curiosity turned to anger when they found out what had happened.

  "Another drygulch job?" Josh asked, his eyes hard.

  "I don't know whether the bullet was meant for one of us or for the horse. Look her over, Josh, and see what you think. We can't let her suffer. If she's bad hurt, have one of the boys…" He stopped at the sight of Jen's distressed face.

  "You better get in where it's warm, Jen. We'll do all we can to save her." The slender girl was dry-eyed, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she turned away and walked toward the house. Maria had heard the commotion in the yard and was standing in the kitchen door. Wordlessly she took the girl in her arms and led her into the house. Kirby caught a racking sob as the door closed, and he gritted his teeth. He watched Manuel lead the mare slowly into a shed.

  "How sober are your boys?" he asked Josh, his voice as cold as the growing evening chill.

  "Sober enough to do a job," answered the foreman shortly.

  "Curly and Ringo know about the rustling job. Pick two or three more boys and have them saddle up. And rope me another mount; the black's been carrying double. See that the boys are all carrying their guns. Be ready in ten minutes."

  "You riding to Lazy B tonight? There's no moon, and it'll be plumb dark in an hour."

  Kirby looked at his foreman as if he'd never seen him before.

  "I said, be ready in ten minutes. We don't need light for the job I have in mind." He turned on his heel and stalked to the shed where Manuel was working with the little mare.

  "What do you think, Manuel? If anyone on the place can save her, you can. But I don't want her to suffer."

  Manuel's eyes were grave. "She's lost a lot of blood, but there's no bones broke. She may have a stiff shoulder, but I think I can pull her through. Can't say what she'll be like once she's healed up."

  Kirby nodded. "Do what you can. We'll take a chance on a stiff shoulder. May have to keep her for a brood mare, but she deserves a chance if you think she'll live."

  He went across to his waiting crew. Curly, Ringo and three other punchers watched silently as he approached. Gathering the reins of the roan Josh had saddled for him, he had his toe in the oxbow when a thought stopped him. He turned.

  "This is trouble," he said, "big trouble… but it's Wagon's trouble. There may gunplay before this night is over. I'm not asking anyone to ride into bullets. If anyone wants to stay on Wagon, now's the time to say so. There'll be nothing said about it, now or any other time." He tried a grin, but it was more of a grimace. "Can't blame anyone for not wanting to get shot on Ch
ristmas."

  No one answered him for a moment. Then Curly looked him full in the face, his eyes hostile. "You said there was Wagon trouble. Me and the other boys have always figured that we was part of Wagon. Kinda proud of it. Some of the boys are right put out they wasn't asked to ride. Figger when people start shootin' at women and horses, Christmas is over."

  Kirby dropped his eyes before Curly's steady gaze. "Sorry I had to say that. Just wanted things straight. This thing won't end tonight. It may not end until some of us have been planted up there with Ma and Muddy. This is only the beginning."

  Ringo murmured, "It's cold here, palaverin'. Be warmer ridin'."

  Kirby knew better than to try to express his thanks. He felt a lift of pride and gratitude. These men were not only willing to stake their lives on his word, but were ready to argue their right to fight. They had backed Muddy in every move he made. What man wouldn't feel a glow to know his friends would back him to the limit without even asking from where the bullets would come? He climbed into the saddle, a lump in his throat. Maria and Jen came to the door and watched silently as he led a thundering parade of hoofs across the yard.

  It was black night when they rode into Lazy B. Lights showed in several rooms, and there was a dim lantern burning at the entrance of the barn. There was no sign of life about house or outbuildings.

  Kirby pulled his horse to a stop facing the door, aware that his men had formed a semicircle at his back. Josh was at his side.

  "Hello the house," he called, his voice shattering the night's quiet. There was no answer, and he started to climb down when the door opened and a man's silhouette blotted out the light for a moment as he stepped out on the porch.

  "What's wanted?" he asked, and they all recognized the strident voice of Hub Dawes.

  "Get Bill out here," Kirby told him, dislike showing in his tone.

  "Bill ain't here. He's been gone since early in the afternoon. What do you want with him?"