by J. T. Edson
Anger wiped all the handsome lines from Dolman’s face as he watched the way that Marlene was reacting to the blond giant’s words. Knowing her, the captain realized that rather than arising out of anger or concern over de Froissart’s death—her wrath had been caused by the fright she had received. She was far too self-centered to care about what had happened to the Creole, particularly once she had remembered that his demise meant there was one less partner to share in the profits of the Company.
When preparing to kill the outlaw, Dolman had been counting upon Marlene—if she survived—taking the latter factor into consideration. She would have done if she had been allowed time to cool down, particularly if the blond youngster had died. Unfortunately, he had survived and was reminding her of how Dolman had left her to face the danger after having created it. So the necessary cooling-off period had not happened.
‘If you’d started shooting instead of talking to them—’ Dolman commenced, in the hope that he could lay the blame on his rival.
‘They’d have killed you all where you sat,’ Mark finished for him.
‘You had them covered—!’ Dolman snarled.
‘And they were lining guns on you three, up so close that they’d not be likely to miss,’ Mark pointed out, deftly countering the unfinished allegation. ‘That’s why I handled it the way I did. Had it been just you and Pierre at the table, I could’ve played things your way. But, with Marlene sitting there, I figured it’d be best to try and get them to pull out peaceable. That way no harm’d come to her. Damn it, they’d’ve gone too, if you hadn’t spooked and thrown lead at them.’
‘I’m a captain in the State Police!’ Dolman answered, desperately seeking for an excuse which might exculpate him in Marlene’s eyes. ‘Was I supposed to just sit there and let them rob me?’
‘They’d forgotten about doing that when you cut loose,’ Mark replied. ‘And because you did, Pierre’s dead. On top of which, you put Marlene’s life in danger and didn’t do one lil damned thing except get hid when the lead started flying.’
An even greater fury boiled inside Dolman as a surreptitious glance at the woman informed him of how thoroughly he was having the ground cut from under his feet.
‘Are you blaming me for Pierre’s death?’ the captain demanded, avoiding any reference to having endangered Marlene.
‘You sure’s hell didn’t do anything that kept him alive,’ Mark answered. ‘And you did even less to stop them trying to kill Marlene. It looked to me like you was counting on that happening to keep the owlhoots busy while you got hid away.’
More rage distorted Dolman’s face and his right hand started moving closer to the Colt in its ‘clamshell’ holster. Nobody, he told himself, would blame him if he took violent exception to such insulting words. Once he had avenged himself upon the big blond, he felt sure that he could soon bring Marlene to a more amenable frame of mind.
Suddenly Dolman became aware that the blond youngster was anything but unprepared to deal with the kind of response he was contemplating. Although the Winchester was resting across the crook of his bent left arm, his right hand—its thumb and fingers slightly bent ready to close—was hovering over the ivory butt of his off side Colt. Everything about his stance and attitude suggested that he was poised ready to draw and start shooting. Obviously he was aware of the chance that had been presented to him and was willing to use it as an excuse to remove a rival for Marlene’s affections.
Remembering the result of the shooting contest they had held the previous night, Dolman realized that Mark was confident of success. For all his earlier pretence that the result had been meaningless, the captain was revising his opinion. He knew the big Texan was faster and more accurate. What was more, he had been given proof that the other was capable of killing. Three of the gang had fallen to his rifle.
Even before shooting the outlaw, Dolman had killed two men in what he had claimed to be the line of duty. So he was aware of his own potential in that field. However, he was equally conscious of the fact that none of his victims had been expecting him to throw down on them. That did not apply to the blond youngster.
One question which Dolman asked himself was whether Mark would dare to shoot down a captain of the State Police, even in what could later be passed off as self defense?
Studying the cowhand, Dolman believed that he might take the chance. Although he was standing apparently relaxed, he was as ready to burst into motion as a compressed coil-spring. None of the captain’s earlier victims—and they had been no more than that—had looked so menacing or dangerous. Nor had they expected to have to defend themselves. What was more, in her present frame of mind—which Counter would ensure endured—Marlene would back up any story he chose to tell. Nobody would doubt their veracity, even if they claimed that it had been one of the outlaws who had killed Dolman.
For several seconds, Dolman continued to stand with his right hand a scant three inches from the butt of his Colt. He met Mark’s gaze and attempted to stare him down. If he could divert the big blond’s attention for a split second, he could draw. However, there was an aura of self-confidence about the cowhand that was unnerving. It was the attitude of a man who felt sure that he was the master of the situation.
Finding that he could no longer meet the big Texan’s disconcerting scrutiny, Dolman looked away. Inadvertently, his eyes strayed to the outlaws’ bodies. The sight did nothing to increase his courage. He remembered all too vividly that the man confronting him had put three of them down; two while they were rushing towards him with blazing guns and intent on killing him.
Such a man would not hesitate to take a rival’s life!
Dolman suspected that the blond giant was ready, willing, more than able and very eager to do just that.
While the captain no longer had the courage to carry out his intentions regarding the youngster, he was equally averse to letting Marlene see him back down. If she did, he would lose any hope of regaining his position with her. Yet there did not seem to be any way in which he could avoid one or the other alternative.
Unless—
Sensing that there might be trouble, Marlene had withdrawn a few steps from the blond’s side so as to be out of the line of fire. If she could be persuaded to intervene, the affair might yet be brought to a bloodless conclusion and without an excessive loss of face for Dolman. That might happen, provided he reminded her in the proper way about his most recent service for the Pilar Hide & Tallow Company.
‘I started shooting because the man with the horses matched the description of Paul Dover’s killer, Marlene,’ Dolman stated, allowing his right hand to move slowly away from the Colt’s butt. He saw the woman stiffen and her lips tighten as he spoke and continued, ‘I’d sign a statement to that effect.’
‘Do tell,’ Mark drawled mockingly, having noticed the response from Marlene.
‘He’d already murdered Dover and one of his own men who couldn’t have escaped,’ Dolman went on, watching Marlene and ignoring the comment. ‘How could we trust a man like that to keep his word?’
Until the captain had addressed her, Marlene had not been displeased by the turn of events and was willing to let the men settle their differences. Having watched the contest between them, she had no doubts about the outcome. She had already concluded that Dolman was not the partner she required, but was equally aware of his ambitions regarding the Company. The incident at the table had been convincing evidence of how far he would go to achieve them. He had been willing to risk sacrificing her to bring about de Froissart’s death. Remembering how he had deliberately endangered her life, she would not have been averse to seeing him killed—particularly as his death would have strengthened her hold over Mark.
Listening to Dolman’s reference to the possible identity of the outlaw, Marlene knew exactly what was implied. It had been to remind her of the documents they had been discussing just before the arrival of the gang. Perhaps Dolman had placed his copy in the hands of somebody he trusted and had left instructio
ns for its disposal if anything should happen to him. She did not dare take the chance that he had failed to make such a precaution. In which case, she had to prevent Mark from killing him.
‘If you was trying to down that jasper,’ Mark said offensively, ‘you’re sure a lousy shot. And he didn’t look like—’
‘Arguing among ourselves won’t bring Pierre back!’ Marlene put in hurriedly, adopting what she hoped would be a conciliatory tone. Although she took a step forward, she did not move between the two men in case her peacemaking should fail. Looking at Mark in a pleading manner, she went on, ‘I’m sure Harlow thought he was acting for the best.’
‘I did,’ Dolman agreed, trying without success to prevent the relief he was feeling from entering his voice. ‘I thought the one with the horses was Paul Dover’s killer.’
While the big blond did not show it, he too was pleased that Marlene had interceded. Despite wishing to keep in her good books, he had good reasons for not wanting to force Dolman into a gunfight. The State Police would be disinclined to allow a Texan—especially one with Mark’s connections—to get away with gunning down one of their number, even in self-defense. Once they started an investigation, Mark’s true status would have been revealed. In which case, even if he escaped their vengeance, there would be no hope of him proving Viridian’s guilt. Another, equally important factor was that Ole Devil Hardin’s political enemies would not be slow to try to use the killing as a means of discrediting him.
With those thoughts in mind, Mark had gambled that—recollecting the result of their contest—Dolman would avoid a confrontation. While that had happened, the captain had contrived to make Marlene intervene. Her intercession had surprised Mark, who would not have suspected her of possessing a forgiving nature. In fact, he had expected her to want Dolman punished for placing her in such deadly peril.
Considering the words which had brought about Marlene’s change of heart, that she should have taken such an attitude struck Mark as significant. Up to Dolman’s reference to the outlaw’s identity, she had been clearly willing to let the affair run its course. Thinking back to Dusty Fog’s comments on the obvious lies which Dolman had told as an excuse for failing to capture Dover’s murderer, Mark decided that their theory of collusion had been correct. He also decided to test how strongly Marlene desired to keep the captain from harm.
‘That being the case,’ the big blond challenged, ‘why’d you drop the other hombre and give him the chance to get away?’
‘The man I shot was covering Marlene—’ Dolman began, gritting out the words.
‘Anyways,’ Mark interrupted, having no intention of letting such an excuse be elaborated upon. ‘There’s some’s’d say, you being a peace officer and all, you should be heading after that feller, seeing’s you already lost him after he’d killed Paul Dover.’
‘My horse isn’t saddled,’ Dolman replied, clenching his fists until their knuckles showed white. ‘By the time I’ve done it, they’ll be so far away that I won’t have a hope of catching them.’
‘So you’re going to lose the feller who you started the whole fuss over and near on got Marlene killed over,’ Mark scoffed. ‘Lordy lord! I’ve always heard the State Police—’
‘It wasn’t Harlow’s fault that the man escaped,’ Marlene put in hurriedly seeing that Dolman was almost quivering with rage and afraid that he might not be able to control his temper. ‘The rest of them could have killed you if he hadn’t helped—’
‘He didn’t do so all-fired much to help me,’ Mark pointed out. ‘All he did was—’
‘Please, Mark!’ Marlene gasped, changing her tactics. ‘I—I don’t feel so good, I—I want to get away from here.’
‘Of course you do, Marlene,’ Dolman commiserated, hoping that by doing so he would regain some of the ground he had lost. He also realized that there was less danger of being provoked into drawing while they were travelling. ‘We’ll go straight away.’
‘Looks like you’re forgetting something, mister,’ Mark drawled insolently.
‘What’s that?’ Dolman snapped, fighting to control the rage that was boiling inside him and threatened to erupt despite his knowledge that for it to do so would get him killed.
‘Those fellers I had to kill because you was so all-fired eager to do your duty as a peace officer,’ Mark answered, indicating the bodies with a jerk of his right thumb which did not take the hand too far from the butt of its Colt. ‘It wouldn’t be right to just leave them lying there.’
‘I’ll send a wagon to collect them when we get to the next way station,’ Dolman growled, scowling malevolently but avoiding meeting Mark’s challenging gaze.
‘The one we was at last night’s a whole heap closer,’ Mark pointed out, successfully maintaining his truculent attitude and conveying the impression that he would like nothing better than to make Dolman draw. ‘I reckon you’d best go back there and do it.’
Once again Marlene could see the possibility of trouble flaring up. Knowing how arrogant and bad tempered Dolman could be, she was afraid that the blond youngster might goad him to the point where he would act without thinking of the consequences.
‘Mark has a good point, Harlow,’ the woman stated, drawing an angry frown from the captain. ‘You could send for the bodies and make a start at hunting the men who escaped much sooner from there.’
‘If you want my advice,’ Mark went on, his voice implying that it had better be taken, ‘you’ll go there. Or are you saying it’s not the closest place?’
‘Did you get the turkey for me, Mark?’ Marlene asked, saying the first thing to come into her head in the hope of preventing Dolman from being forced to answer.
‘Nope,’ the big blond admitted. ‘I was sneaking up on him when those jaspers arrived. But I didn’t like the look of them, so I let him be and came back. How about it, mister. Is the place—’
‘Would you go and ask the driver to hitch up the team, Mark?’ Marlene interrupted, indicating the bodies and giving a convincing shudder. ‘I want to leave this place. It’s horrible being here after—’
‘Sure I will, hon—Marlene,’ Mark declared, but did not turn. Instead he looked at Dolman in a challenging fashion. ‘You still haven’t answered—’
Marlene’s nerves were stretched so taut that it was all she could do to prevent herself from screaming. She feared that Mark might achieve his purpose and force a confrontation with Dolman unless she separated them. If the captain was compelled to reply and chose to disagree, Mark would pretend to take it that he was being called a liar. In Texas at that time, such a charge almost invariably resulted in gunplay.
‘Please, Mark!’ Marlene almost shrieked and the strain she was enduring caused a pleading tone to enter her voice. ‘I want to leave as quickly as possible.’
‘Anything to oblige yow, honey,’ the big blond drawled and, gambling on the woman warning him if Dolman attempted to take advantage of his actions, he turned to stroll jauntily away.
Glaring hatred at his tormentor’s departing back, Dolman moved his right hand towards the ‘clamshell’ holster. Before he touched the Colt’s butt, Marlene stepped in front of him.
‘Leave it, damn you!’ the woman hissed. ‘If you don’t, I’ll warn him. And there won’t be any way I can stop him killing you.’
‘All right,’ Dolman gritted, accepting the inevitable. ‘I’ll go and make sure there’s nothing we can do for Pierre.’
‘He’s dead and you can leave us to take care of him,’ Marlene replied, wondering if the captain also suspected that de Froissart was carrying his copy of the statement. Even if he did, she had no intention of allowing him to gain possession of it. ‘If I was you, I’d do as Mark says and go back. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him from killing you.’
‘Don’t forget that I’ve left my copy—’ Dolman began, wishing that he had done so. If Marlene guessed that it was in his jacket’s breast pocket, she would not hesitate to let Mark Counter gun him down.
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�What do you think has kept you alive?’ Marlene interrupted angrily. ‘I’ll never forgive you for what you did. Mark was right. You didn’t give a damn that I might be killed after you’d shot that man.’
Looking at the woman’s scornful face, Dolman realized that there was no hope of regaining her favor. Certainly not as long as Mark Counter was alive. However, the captain was equally aware of his own danger. If he stayed, and tried to search the Creole, he would be offering the blond giant an opportunity to kill him. Once that happened, they would find his copy of the statement and then they would not even have the anxiety of possible repercussions following the killing of a State Policeman.
‘All right,’ Dolman growled. ‘I’ll go, but I’ll be coming down to Pilar.’
‘You’ll always be welcome,’ Marlene purred, satisfied that she had won.
Letting out a low curse, Dolman swung on his heel and went to pick up his saddle. Waiting until sure that he did not contemplate any treachery, Marlene glanced to where Mark was still talking to the driver. Then she turned and walked towards the valet.
‘What’ll we do about Massa Pierre, Mrs. Viridian?’ the Negro asked. With the possibility of trouble between the white folks, he had wisely refrained from drawing attention to himself. ‘He’s dead.’
‘We’ll take him home for burial,’ Marlene answered. ‘Give me everything from his pockets, then get the tarp from the boot and wrap him in it.’
Nodding soberly, the valet started to obey. Producing de Froissart’s wallet and cigar-case, he handed them to the woman. Then he reached inside the jacket and drew out an envelope. Tucking the other two items under her arm, Marlene took it with barely concealed eagerness. Opening the flap, she looked at its contents. A hiss of relief broke from her as she identified the sheet of paper. It was the Creole’s copy.
Silently congratulating herself, Marlene became aware that Mark was returning. Before she could stop herself, she was thrusting the envelope hurriedly into her jacket’s breast pocket. However, if he noticed her furtive behavior, he made no reference to it. Instead, he set about making preparations for them to leave.