Edge: Vengeance Valley (Edge series Book 17)

by George G. Gilman

  ‘Don’t know the whys and wherefores,’ Clayton continued. ‘But it’s common knowledge Ryan favors carrying a shotgun.’

  ‘Paid us a visit last night,’ Marilla said, as vague as before.

  ‘She means the three that were killed,’ Clayton supplemented. ‘Told us they had news from Greenville. Stranger in town mixed it with some of Ryan’s hands. Handled them like they was day-old lambs and rode out. Yates and Selby and Kelsey -they figured to meet up with this stranger and hire him to go against the Ryan set-up. I told them I didn’t want no part of that.’

  ‘I told him to tell them that,’ Marilla put in, and now she looked intently at the young couple. ‘Reason he’s alive this mornin’ and not spread over the grass at Rivertrees Bend.’

  Maria tore her stare away from the harrowed eyes of the other woman and showed Danny an imploring expression.

  ‘That’s terrible, Mr. Clayton,’ was all Danny said.

  ‘Somethin’ else you ought to know, young feller. Had some callers this morning. Two city types with a map and survey equipment. And a couple of real mean-lookin’ bast… fellers. Ryan’s kinda men, but I ain’t never seen them before. Seems Ryan’s figurin’ to make his claim to the valley real hide-bound. Don’t mess with them, young feller.’

  ‘Tell Danny, Maria,’ the older woman advised earnestly, the shock of seeing the corpses still with her but the vagueness gone. ‘His father was like us and all the other folk here. We lived at peace with Ryan and we got by. Soon as this stranger showed up, there was pain and killin’.’

  Clayton released the brake of the buckboard and flicked the reins.

  ‘Danny!’ Maria implored.

  He squeezed her hand. Thanks for stoppin’ by to tell us, Mr. Clayton,’ he called as the wagon started forward.

  ‘Don’t mess with them, son!’ the older man called.

  ‘Just do like they say,’ Marilla Clayton added.

  ‘It is him!’ Maria said, soft but intent, so that the creaking and clopping progress of the departing buckboard covered her words. ‘He is the stranger, Danny!’

  The young man nodded his agreement and there was just the trace of a grim smile at the corners of his mouth. When he moved, still clasping the hand of his wife, Maria was forced to follow him. He led her into the house and across the main room to the closed door. He opened it quietly and the two of them stood on the threshold. Danny looked at the sleeping man with interested curiosity. Maria’s eyes were as horror-filled as when she had first seen Edge’s upside-down face under the belly of the gelding.

  ‘See him as a warning,’ the woman begged. ‘He bettered the Ryan men once. And see how he paid for it, Danny.’

  ‘I’m lookin’, mi bien’ Danny replied evenly. ‘And, when he wakes up, he’ll look at himself. And feel the pain. A man like he is, Maria. Do you think he’ll just ride away and forget what they did to him?’

  ‘Danny, I don’t care about him!’ Maria said, and her voice was almost a high-pitched scream.

  Edge groaned and moved an arm, but he did not recover consciousness. Danny expressed annoyance at his wife and hustled her out of the bedroom, closing the door. ‘He’s goin’ to be all right,’ he said, immediately regretting his flash of anger. ‘But he’ll need plenty of rest.’ He kissed his wife lightly on the cheek and his smile held genuine affection as he withdrew from her. ‘Make some coffee, Maria. And I promise not to say anything more about him until he wakes up.’

  ‘But you will think about him,’ the woman accused.

  The smile brightened still further. ‘As the stranger said, mi bien: it isn’t the thought that counts.’

  The Oakleys were just finishing their coffee, drinking it in the shade of the house stoop, when the four riders approached along the spur trail. They heard the hoof beats first, coming from beyond the stand of trees that formed the, northern boundary of the homestead. The trail curved around the timber and emerged into sight on the bank of the river which marked the extent of the property on the eastern side. Not that property markers meant anything in the valley except those staking the Big R claim.

  The riders appeared on the river bank just short of where Maria had first seen the gelding with the beaten man tied to it. But the quartet of newcomers required no help. Instead of staying on the trail which made a right angle turn to skirt the trees, they swung across the lush meadow, scattering the sheep and causing the milk cow to lumber out of their path as they galloped up the slope.

  ‘It is them!’ Maria said nervously as she and Danny got to their feet. ‘Please do as Mr. Clayton advised.’

  Once again, she reached for his hand and clasped it, as the four riders reined their mounts to a halt, and lined up before the house.

  ‘Good morning, ma’am. Sir. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Oakley.’ The speaker was a tall, thin man attired in a city suit of blue serge, a brown derby and a white shirt with ruffled collar. He touched the brim of his hat politely and showed tobacco stained teeth when his bloodless lips parted in a smile. He had soft, brown eyes with dark circles under them. ‘Name’s Finbar. This is my associate from San Francisco. Mr. Standish.’

  ‘It certainly is a fine morning,’ Standish said. He had a strong British accent. A head shorter than Finbar, he was just as thin as the other man. He was also dressed in a suit, but it was grey. The same as his derby hat. At thirty, he was ten years junior to Finbar. Weakly handsome, he wore a thin moustache above his full mouth. He took off his hat and showed a mop of black hair, as if to compensate for his associate’s apparent baldness. His smile was a trifle nervous.

  ‘Fellers come to do a survey.’

  ‘We’re here to see they don’t get no trouble while they’re doin’ it.’

  Finbar’s smile almost fell off his face, but he managed to rescue it. ‘Mr. Royd and Mr. Doyle. Our employer, Mr. Woodrow Ryan of the Big R Ranch, insisted these gentlemen accompanied us.’ He even brightened his smile now, as Standish’s nervousness increased. ‘Though we are certain you will be as co-operative as the other tenants we have visited.’

  Royd was in his early twenties. He was stockily built and had a squarish face chiseled into lines of sullenness. His brooding, dark eyes had hardly left Maria Oakley since he halted his horse, Doyle was a few years older and a great deal better looking. But the pleasantness of his features was not matched by the gravel tones of his voice. He was about six feet tall and heavier than he should have been, for his belly bulged and hung over the top of his pants. Both Royd and Doyle were attired Western-style and were armed with holstered six-guns and booted rifles. They sat their saddles with easy comfort. The two surveyors showed no weapons and looked in danger of falling from their mounts.

  ‘What kind of survey?’ Danny asked, with a slight tremor in his voice. ‘Just of my wife?’

  Royd completed his arrogant appraisal of Maria’s face and figure and swung his dark eyes towards Danny. His lips curled back. ‘Takin’ account of land and stock, mister. That’s a nice lookin’ filly you got there.’

  Finbar and Standish were in the process of dismounting, expressing relief to get from their saddles. But Finbar became stern as he heard the comment and saw Danny Oakley’s face color with anger.

  ‘Mr. Royd!’ the surveyor snapped, ‘Bear in mind Mr. Ryan’s instructions.’

  Standish looked ready to turn and run as Royd transferred his leer towards Finbar and altered it slightly, into a sneer.

  ‘Attend to your business, dude,’ the guard growled. ‘Just complimentin’ the pretty little Mex girl is all.’

  ‘Easy, Jamie!’ Doyle warned, sliding from his saddle. ‘That rancher feller give me the impression he don’t just talk to hear himself.’

  ‘Aw, hell!’ Royd whined, and spat as he dismounted. ‘This is sure some lousy job you got us into, John.’

  ‘Pays better than the El Paso crap tables,’ Doyle pointed out. When he smiled, it went some way to discounting his harsh-sounding voice. The smile was for Maria and there seemed to be no hidden meaning behind
it. He took off his hat to show neatly clipped and slicked down sandy hair. ‘If there’s any coffee left in the pot, ma’am, I for one would sure appreciate a cup.’

  Maria shot a glance at Danny and received a nod of assent.

  ‘Mr. Standish and I may take up that kind invitation later,’ Finbar said quickly, his brightness an over-reaction to the defusing of the situation. ‘After we’ve finished our work.’

  ‘It surely is a hot day for work,’ Standish said, licking beads of sweat off his moustache.

  ‘Damn right it is!’ Royd growled, and delved into one of his saddlebags. A grin spread across his weathered face as he produced a bottle of whisky. ‘Coffee’s for friggin’ cold nights. I got what’s needed for friggin’ hot days.’

  Maria spun and went into the house, carrying the mugs she and Danny had used. The two surveyors were in the process of unloading their equipment from their horses. A lower-keyed anger spread over the face of the young homesteader.

  ‘I object to swearin’ in front of my wife!’ he complained.

  ‘Weren’t in front of her, mister!’ Royd answered, still grinning. ‘It was behind her.’ He uncapped the bottle, took a’ swig and laughed. ‘And I can’t recall the last time I saw a prettier behind.’

  Danny made to step off the stoop, glaring at Royd. Doyle shot out a hand, the palm and splayed fingers pressing hard into the centre of Danny’s chest.

  ‘Our boss told us no trouble,’ the tall gunman said, his no longer smiling eyes boring into Danny’s face. ‘That we start. Our boss hired us to stop trouble anyone else starts.’

  Finbar and Standish hurried to unpack their gear, then went at a half-run down the slope of the meadow towards the river bank. They didn’t look back, as if afraid of what they might see.

  Danny held Doyle’s stare for long moments. And, in the other man’s eyes, he read the fact that Doyle was more dangerous than his stockier partner. ‘Just keep him out of sight and earshot of my wife then!’ the homesteader rasped.

  ‘Hey, John!’ Royd snarled. ‘That punk givin’ us orders?’

  ‘Easy, Jamie,’ Doyle called over his shoulder, then returned his attention to Danny as Maria emerged on to the stoop with a mug of steaming coffee. ‘Appreciate it, ma’am,’ he said, accepting the mug. There was no smile. He lowered his voice. ‘Advise you both to stay inside the house. Ain’t no reason for any of us to come in there.’

  ‘Why should—’ Danny started.

  Doyle’s voice stayed at a low level, but it became a snarl. ‘Listen, you crazy country boy! Jamie Royd and me been partners a long time. I know him. And I can handle him if I get the chance. But if he gets to see too much of your wife, or you say the wrong word, ain’t no one can handle him. You get me, country boy?’

  Danny looked over one of Doyle’s shoulders while Maria was more fleeting in her survey of the other one. Both saw Royd clearly, sucking from the whisky bottle and raking his gaze over the homestead, by turns grinning and scowling.

  ‘We will do as you say,’ the woman agreed, and at once turned and went into the house.

  Danny seemed about to protest, but his angry eyes were again captured by Doyle’s cold and revealing stare. ‘Just keep him away from Maria and me,’ he said before he whirled and followed his wife inside. He slammed the door hard behind him.

  ‘Hey, John,’ Royd slurred, draping an arm around Doyle’s waist as the taller man got close to him. The bottle had been half empty when he took it from the saddlebag. He had been taking regular swallows from it throughout the morning.

  ‘Yeah, Jamie?’ Doyle asked, sipping the coffee and steering his partner towards the promised shade of the barn.

  That damn Britisher, all he talks about is the weather.’

  ‘That’s ‘cause, the way I hear it, the British have such lousy stuff.’ He succeeded in moving Royd onto course for the barn. ‘Can’t get over what we got.’

  ‘But all he does is complain about it, John,’ Royd argued.

  The whites of his eyes were already bloodshot. He squinted as he peered around, searching for the surveyors. He spotted them, down on the bank of the river, at either end of a long measuring tape. Beyond them, the slow running water looked cool and inviting as it sparkled in the sunlight.

  ‘We don’t have to listen to him or the other city feller,’ Doyle reminded. ‘Just guard them is all.’

  ‘Guess that’s right,’ Royd acknowledged, and took another swig of whisky. The two men reached the threshold of the barn. In the shade of the doorway, the smaller man broke contact with the larger one. He turned, and stood swaying as he peered down the sloping meadow at the river. ‘But you was sure listening to that punk and his Mex woman, John. What’d they say? And what did you say back?’

  He swung around suddenly, and stared suspiciously up into the face of his partner. Doyle stayed cool in response to Royd’s aggressive attitude.

  ‘We made a deal, Jamie. Remember? In El Paso after we took this job. We said no booze and no women until it was over and we got paid. I gave way on the booze, Jamie. But don’t you get no idea of making a play for that woman. She’s the feller’s wife.’

  Royd sneered, then mellowed the expression into a grin. ‘All the better, John partner. She knows what it’s for and what it’s all about.’

  Doyle finished his coffee and sighed. ‘Please, Jamie,’ he asked softly and now there was nothing in his face to suggest toughness or danger. The look he had given Danny, to clinch the homesteader’s retreat into the house, had been a sham. Royd, drunk or sober, was the dominant one of the partnership. And this was patently evident as the two men stood in the doorway of the barn. ‘When we done this job, we’ll have enough money to buy any women we want.’

  Royd shook his head, still holding the grin, and thrust the almost empty bottle towards Doyle. ‘Bought women are used too many times, John.’ He hitched up his gun belt. ‘And virgins are just too much trouble. Ain’t nothin’ I like better than a new bride.’

  Doyle sighed again. ‘I can’t talk you outta this, Jamie?’

  ‘You and me ain’t much for talk, John.’

  Doyle thought about this, nodded, and raised the bottle to his lips. He tilted it and drained it of the hefty slug of whisky it contained. ‘That sure is right, Jamie.’

  Royd laughed harshly. ‘So you’ll watch them city slickers keep right on with their work, John?’

  ‘If it’s gotta be this way.’

  Royd stepped out of the barn. ‘When a man’s got it hard, only one natural thing to do, John.’

  ‘Lean on a crutch, Jamie,’ Doyle countered, following his partner outside and drawing his Colt.

  ‘Right, John. Aw hell, I can hardly wait. Them Mex fillies always give a feller a good ride. And this one’s new broke in.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘HEY, Jamie! Don’t you wear her out, partner. I figure I’ll have some of what she’s got!’

  On the outer shore of returning consciousness, Edge heard the familiar name called. Perhaps he heard the rest of the words yelled by the gravel-voiced John Doyle. But he didn’t understand them. Just the name Jamie. He smiled in the last remnant of his unnatural sleep and was suddenly painfully awake. For it was as if his face caught fire as his muscles tugged at the punished flesh to form the smile.

  Danny Oakley had been at the front window of the shack’s main room, looking towards the barn doorway where Royd and Doyle stood talking. As the smaller gunman staggered out into the sunlight and Doyle followed him, drawing the revolver, the young homesteader groaned.

  ‘What is it?’ Maria asked anxiously, moving fast from the stove to the window to look out.

  ‘Go into the bedroom, Maria,’ her husband told her forcefully. ‘And if there’s trouble, get through the window and run, Run as fast and as far as you can.’

  Anxiety became terror as the woman looked around the man and saw the leering Royd as he neared the house.

  ‘Do as I say!’ Danny commanded, giving her a shove towards the bedroom doo
r as he turned from the window.

  Her big, dark, fear-widened eyes followed him as he crossed the room and took a Winchester rifle from where it leaned against the wall in the corner.

  ‘Hey, mister!’ Royd yelled. ‘Send that Mex woman of yours out here, will you?’

  Danny’s own fear, larded with anger, was too all consuming. He was unable to soften his expression as he stared at his wife after pumping the rifle’s action. And his voice was as harsh as the look on his face.

  ‘Do as I told you!’ he snarled.

  She had never seen him like this. Had never heard him use such a tone. Would never have dreamed he would look at her and talk to her in such a way. Tears spilled from her wide eyes and a sob was wrenched from her throat as she whirled. Then, as her trembling hand wrapped around the handle, a faint hope sprang into her mind. She remembered the man who was on the other side of the door: recalled what Danny had thought about him.

  ‘What on earth...?’ a British voice exclaimed.

  ‘You men!’ the other surveyor called.

  Their voices were faint, coming from the other side of the meadow.

  ‘Keep on working!’ Doyle ordered, from much nearer the house.

  Maria pushed open the door and stepped quickly into the bedroom. The sob became a gasp as she closed the door and leaned her back against it. Blue slits of eyes stared across the room at her from the wreckage of the stranger’s face.

  ‘Men!’ she hissed. ‘Making trouble for Danny and me! Please help us!’

  It was as painful for Edge to talk as to smile. But he managed to croak a reply. ‘It ain’t that I’m unmoved, ma’am,’ he told the anguished woman. ‘Just that I can’t.’

  Danny Oakley was too slow. He had spent time checking the rifle and ensuring that his wife was through into the bedroom. Only then did he make for his former vantage point at the window. Jamie Royd’s moves were far quicker, despite his drunken state. After shouting the demand to Danny, he had lengthened his stride and set his feet down silently. So, when the young homesteader peered out through the freshly laundered lace curtains and polished glass, he failed to spot Royd. He saw Doyle midway between the barn and the house, holding his gun negligently. He saw Finbar and Standish on the river bank, staring up towards the house. He saw the four horses waiting patiently immediately outside the house.