Collection 1986 - The Trail To Crazy Man (v5.0)

by Louis L'Amour

  Heat waves danced out over the bottomland, and shadows gathered under the red wall. A dust devil lifted and danced weirdly across the desert and then lost itself among the thick antelope brush and the catclaw. Tom Kedrick mopped his brow and swung his horse farther east, the tall spire of Chimney Rock lifting in the distance, its heavier-shouldered companion looming beside and beyond it.

  “Look!” Burwick’s voice held a note of triumph. “There they come!”

  To the south, and still three or four miles off, they could see two riders heading toward Chimney Rock. At this distance they could not be distinguished, but their destination was obvious.

  “Now that’s fine!” Burwick beamed. “They’ll be here right on time! Say”—he glanced at his heavy gold watch—“tell you what. You’ll be there a shade before them, so what say you wait for them while I have me a look at a ledge up in the canyon?”

  In the shadow of the rock, Kedrick swung down. There was a small pool of water there. He let the palouse drink and ground hitched him deeper in the shade, near some grass. Then he walked back and dropping to the ground lit a smoke. He could see the two riders nearing now. One was on a fast-stepping chestnut, the other a dappled gray.

  They rode up and swung down. The first man was Pete Slagle, the second a stranger whom Kedrick had not seen before. “Where’s McLennon?” he asked.

  “He’ll be along. He hadn’t come in from the ranch, so I came on with Steelman here. He’s a good man, an’ anything he says goes with all of us. Bob’ll be along later, though, if you have to have his word.”

  “Burwick came. He’s over lookin’ at a ledge he saw in the canyon over there.”

  The three men bunched, and Steelman studied Kedrick. “Dai Reid tells me you’re a good man. Trustworthy, he says.”

  “I aim to be.” He drew a last drag on his cigarette and lifted his head to snap it out into the sand.

  For an instant, he stood poised, his face blank. Then realization hit him. “Look out!” he yelled. “Hit the dirt!”

  His voice was drowned in a roar of guns, and something smashed him in the body even as he fell. Then something else slugged him atop the head, and a vast wave of blackness folded over him, pushing him down, down, down, deeper and deeper into a swirling darkness that closed in tightly around his body, around his throat. And then there was nothing, nothing at all.

  Alton Burwick smiled and threw down his cigar. Calmly, he swung into the saddle and rode toward the four men who were riding from behind a low parapet of rocks near the chimney. As he rode up they were standing, rifles in hand, staring toward the cluster of bloody figures sprawled on the ground in the shade. “Got ’em!” Shaw said. His eyes were hard. “That cleans it up, an’ good!”

  Fessenden, Clauson, and Poinsett stared at the bodies, saying nothing. Lee Goff walked toward them from his vantage point, where he had awaited anyone who might have had a chance to escape. He stooped over the three.

  Slagle was literally riddled with bullets, his body smashed and bloody. Off to one side lay Steelman, half the top of his head blown off. Captain Kedrick lay sprawled deeper in the shadow, his head bloody, and a dark stain on his body.

  “Want I should finish ’em off for sure?” Poinsett asked.

  “Finish what off?” Clauson sneered. “Look at ’em—shot to doll rags.”

  “What about Kedrick?” Fessenden asked. “He dead for sure?”

  “Deader than Columbus,” Goff said.

  “Hey!” Shaw interrupted. “This ain’t McLennon! This here’s that Joe Steelman!”

  _______

  THEY GATHERED AROUND.

  “Sure is!”

  Burwick swore viciously. “Now we’re in trouble! If we don’t get McLennon, we’re—” His voice trailed away as he looked up at Dornie Shaw. The soft brown eyes were bright and boyish.

  “Why, Boss,” he said softly, dropping his cigarette and rubbing it out with his toe, “I reckon that’s where I come in. Leave McLennon to me. I’ll hunt him down before sun sets tomorrow!”

  “Want company?” Poinsett asked.

  “Don’t need it,” Shaw said, “but come along. I hear this Bob McLennon used to be a frontier marshal. I never liked marshals no way.”

  They drifted to their horses and then moved slowly away—Dornie Shaw, Poinsett, and Goff toward the west and Bob McLennon. Alton Burwick, his eyes thoughtful, rode toward the east and Mustang. With him rode the others. Only Fessenden turned nervously and looked back. “We should have made sure they were dead.”

  “Ride back if you want,” Clauson said. “They are dead all right. That Kedrick! I had no use for him. I aimed my shot right for his smart skull.”

  Afternoon drew on. The sun lowered, and after the sun came coolness. Somewhere a coyote lifted his howl of anguish to the wide white moon, and the desert lay still and quiet beneath the sky.

  In the deeper shadow of the towering chimney and its bulkier neighbor, there was no movement. A coyote, moving nearer, scented the blood, but with it there was the dreaded man smell. He whined anxiously, drew back, and then trotted slowly off, turning only once to look back. The palouse, still ground hitched, walked along the grass toward the pool and then stopped, nostrils wide at the smell of blood.

  It had been well down behind some rocks and brush, and the shooting had only made it lift its head. Then it had returned to cropping the thick green grass that grew in the tiny subirrigated area around the chimney. Nothing more moved. The coolness of the night stiffened the dried blood and stiffened the bodies of the men who lay sprawled there.

  Ten miles north, Laredo Shad, late for his meeting with Kedrick, limped along the trail leading a badly lamed horse. Two hours before, the trail along an arroyo bank had given way and the horse had fallen. The leg was not broken, but was badly injured. Shad swore bitterly and walked on, debating as he had for the past two hours on the advisability of camping for the night. But remembering that Kedrick would be expecting him, he pushed on.

  An hour later, still plodding and on blistered feet, he heard a horse’s hoofs and drew up, slipping his rifle into his hands. Then the rider materialized from the night, and he drew up also. For a long minute no word was said. Then Shad spoke. “Name yourself, pardner.”

  The other rider also held a gun. “Bob McLennon,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “Laredo Shad. My horse lamed hisself. I’m headed for Chimney Rock. Supposed to meet Kedrick there.” He stared at the rider. “Thought you was to be at the meetin’? What happened?”

  “I didn’t make it. Steelman an’ Slagle went. I’m ridin’ up here because they never come in.”

  “What?” Shad’s exclamation was sharp. “McLennon, I was right afeared of that. My bet is there’s been dirty work. Never trusted that there Burwick, not no way.”

  McLennon studied the Texan, liking the man, but hesitant. “What’s your brand read, Laredo? You a company man?”

  Shad shook his head. “Well, now, it’s like this. I come in here drawin’ warrior pay to do some gunslingin’, but I’m a right uppity sort of a gent about some things. This here didn’t size up right to me or to Kedrick, so we been figurin’ on gettin’ shut of the company. Kedrick only stayed on hopin’ he could make peace. I stayed along with him.”

  “Get up behind me,” McLennon said. “My horse will carry double, an’ it ain’t far.”

  X

  His eyes were open a long time before realization came. He was lying in a clean, orderly place with which he was totally unfamiliar. For a long time he lay there, searching his memory for clues to tie all this together. He, himself, was Captain Tom Kedrick—he had gone west from New Orleans—he had taken on a job—then he remembered.

  There had been a meeting at Chimney Rock, and Steelman had come in place of McLennon, and then he had thrown his cigarette away and had seen those men behind the rocks, seen the sunlight flashing on their rifle barrels, actually. He had yelled and then dropped, but not fast enough. He had been hit in the head, and he had been hit
in the body at least once.

  How long ago was that? He turned his head and found himself in a square stone room. One side of the room was native rock, as was part of another side. The rest had been built up from loose stones gathered and shaped to fit. Besides the wide bed on which he lay, there was a table and a chair. He turned slightly, and the bed creaked. The door opened, and he looked up into the eyes of Connie Duane!

  “Connie?” he was surprised. “Where is this place? What’s happened?”

  “You’ve been unconscious for days,” she told him, coming to the bedside. “You have had a bad concussion, and you lost a lot of blood before Laredo and Bob McLennon found you.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Both of them were dead, and by all rights, you should have been.”

  “But where are we? What is this place?”

  “It’s a cliff dwelling, a lonely one and very ancient. It is high up in the side of the mountain called Thieving Rock. McLennon knew where it was, and he knew that if word got out that you were alive they would be out to complete the job at once, so they brought you here. McLennon did, with Shad.”

  “Are they still here?”

  “Shad is. He hunts and goes to Yellow Butte for supplies, but he has to be very careful because it looks like they are beginning to get suspicious.”

  “McLennon?”

  “He’s dead, Tom. Dornie Shaw killed him. He went to Mustang to find a doctor for you and encountered Dornie on the street. Bob was very fast, you know, but Dornie is incredible! He killed Bob before he could get a shot off.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “Bob McLennon and Shad had talked about it, and they knew I was against the company and also that Uncle John had been killed. So they came to me, and I came out here right away. I knew a little about nursing, but not much. Laredo has been wonderful, Tom. He’s a true friend.”

  Kedrick nodded. “Who did the shooting? I thought I saw Poinsett.”

  “He was one of them. I heard them talking about it, but was not sure until later. Poinsett was there, with Goff, Fessenden, Clauson, and Shaw.”

  “Anything else happened?”

  “Too much. They burned Yellow Butte’s saloon and livery stable, and they have driven almost half the people off the land. Their surveyors are on the land now, checking the survey they made previously. A handful of the squatters have drawn back into the mountains somewhere under Pit Laine and that friend of yours, Dai Reid. They are trying to make a stand there.”

  “What about Sue?”

  _______

  SHE LOOKED AT him quickly. “You liked her, didn’t you? Well, Sue has taken up with Keith. They are together all the time. He’s a big man, now. They’ve brought in some more gunmen, and the Mixus boys are still here. Right now, Alton Burwick and Loren Keith have this country right under their thumbs. In fact, they even called an election.”

  “An election?”

  “Yes, and they counted the ballots themselves. Keith was elected mayor, and Fessenden is sheriff. Burwick stayed out of it, of course, and Dornie Shaw wouldn’t take the sheriff’s job.”

  “Looks like they’ve got everything their own way, doesn’t it?” he mused. “So they don’t know I’m alive.”

  “No. Shad went back there and dug three graves. He buried the other two and then filled in the third grave and put a marker over it with your name on it.”

  “Good!” Kedrick was satisfied. He looked up at the girl. “And how do you get out here and back without them becoming curious?”

  She flushed slightly. “I haven’t been back, Tom. I stayed here with you. There was no chance of going back and forth. I just left everything and came away.”

  “How long before I can be up?”

  “Not long, if you rest. And you’ve talked enough now.”

  Kedrick turned over the whole situation in his mind. There could be no more than a few days before the sale of the land would come off, and if there was one thing that mattered, it was that the company not be permitted to profit from their crookedness. As he lay there resting, a plan began to form in his mind, and the details supplied themselves one by one as he considered it.

  His guns hung on a nail driven into the wall close to his hand. His duffle, which he had brought away from the St. James, lay in the corner. It was almost dark before he completed his planning, and when Laredo came in he was ready for him.

  “Cimarron?” Shad nodded. “Bloomfield would be nearer. How’s that?”

  “Good!” Kedrick agreed. “Make it fast.”

  “That ain’t worryin’ me,” Laredo said, rolling his tobacco in his jaws. “They’ve been mighty suspicious lately. Suppose they trail this place down while I’m gone?”

  “We’ll have to chance that. Here’s the message. Hurry it up!”

  The sun was bright in the room when Connie came through the door with his breakfast. She turned, and her face went white. “Oh, you’re up!”

  He grinned shakily. “That’s right. I’ve laid abed long enough. How long has it been?”

  “Almost two weeks,” she told him, “but you mustn’t stand up. Sit down and rest.”

  There was a place by a window where he had a good view of the trail below. At his request, Connie brought the Winchester to him, and her own rifle. He cleaned them both, oiled them carefully, and placed them beside his window. Then he checked his guns and returned them to their holsters, digging the two Walch Navy pistols from his duffle and checking them also.

  Thoughtfully, he considered. It was late to do anything now, but it was a wonder he had not thought of Ransome before. No more able legislator existed in Washington than Frederic Ransome, and the two had been brother officers in the war between the states, as well as friends in France during the Franco-Prussian War, when Ransome had been there as an observer. If anybody could block the sale to the company, he could, even on such short notice.

  His telegram would be followed by a letter supplying all the details, and with that to go on, Ransome might get something done. He was a popular and able young senator with good connections and an affable manner. Moreover, he was an excellent strategist. It would make all the difference in this situation.

  The cliff dwelling was built well back from the face of the cliff, and built evidently with an eye toward concealment as well as defense. They had called this, Connie told him, Thieving Rock long before the white man appeared, and the Indians who lived here had been notorious thieves. There was a spring, so water was not a worry, and there were supplies enough for immediate purposes.

  Two days dragged slowly by. On the morning of the third, Kedrick was resuming his station by the window when he saw a rider coming into the narrow canyon below.

  The man was moving slowly and studying the ground as he came, although from time to time he paused and searched the area with careful eyes. Kedrick pushed himself up from his chair and taking the Winchester, worked his way along the wall to the next room.

  “Connie?” he called softly. There was no reply, and after a minute, he called a second time. Still no answer.

  Worried now, he remembered she had said something about going down below to gather some squaw cabbage to add greens to their diet.

  Back at the window, he studied the terrain carefully, and then his heart gave a leap, for Connie Duane was gathering squaw cabbage from a niche in the canyon wall, not fifty yards from the unknown rider!

  _______

  LIFTING HIS RIFLE, Kedrick checked the range. It was all of four hundred yards and a downhill shot. Carefully, he sighted on the rider but then relaxed. He was nearer the girl now, and a miss might ricochet and kill the girl, for the canyon wall would throw any bullet he fired back into the canyon itself, and it might even ricochet several times in the close confines.

  Yet, somehow, she had to be warned. If the rider saw her tracks, he would find both the girl and the hideout. Suddenly, the ears of his horse came up sharply, and the rider stiffened warily and looked all around. Carefully, Kedrick
drew a bead on the man again. He hated to kill an unwarned man, but if necessary he would not hesitate.

  Connie was standing straight now and appeared to be listening. Tense in every fiber, Tom Kedrick watched and waited. The two were now within fifty feet of each other, although each was concealed by a corner of rock and some desert growth, including a tall cottonwood and some cedars.

  Still listening, both stood rigid, and Kedrick touched his lips with the tip of his tongue. His eyes blurred with the strain, and he brushed his hand across them.

  The rider was swinging to the ground now, and he had drawn a gun. Warily, he stepped out from his ground-hitched horse. Shifting his eyes to Connie, Tom saw the girl wave, and lifting his hand, he waved back and then lifted the rifle. She waved a vigorous negation with her arm, and he relaxed, waiting.

  Now the man was studying tracks in the sandy bottom of the wash, and as he knelt, his eyes riveted upon the ground, a new element entered the picture.

  A flicker of movement caught the tail of Kedrick’s eye, and turning his head he saw Laredo Shad riding into the scene. He glared swiftly at the window and waved his hand. Then he moved foreward and swung to the ground.

  From his vantage point Kedrick could hear nothing, but he saw Laredo approach, making heavy going of it in the thick sand, and then, not a dozen yards from the man, he stopped.

  He must have spoken, for the strange rider stiffened as if shot and then slowly got to his feet. As he turned, Tom saw his face full in the sunlight. It was Clauson!

  What happened then was too fast for the eye to follow. Somebody must have spoken, but who did not matter. Clauson’s gun was drawn, and he started to swing it up. Laredo Shad in a gunman’s crouch, flashed his right-hand gun. It sprang clear, froze for a long instant, and then just as Clauson fired, Shad fired—but a split second sooner!

  Clauson staggered a step back, and Shad fired again. The outlaw went down slowly, and Laredo walked forward and stripped his gun belts from him. Then from his horse he took his saddlebags, rifle, and ammunition. Gathering up the dead man and working with Connie’s help, they tied him to the saddle and then turned the horse loose with a slap on the hip.