One Man, One Gun

by Matt Chisholm

  He had the horse and he didn’t have it. He couldn’t mount it and he dared not let it go. Yet a few more yards and he knew that he would be forced to. This pace could not be held for long. He thought of dropping-to the ground so the weight of his body would slow the animal, but he knew that those wicked hoofs could kick his head in. He tried digging his heels in, but the animal nearly tore him from his feet again.

  The horse started pitching and kicking out with his hind legs. Harrison was forced to let go as a heel caught him agonizingly on the thigh. The animal went pitching and kicking away from him. Harrison didn’t stop running. There was still a faint chance. The horse had slowed itself with its pitching. Suddenly, Harrison was alongside it. It reared high, screaming its rage.

  As it came down, Harrison jumped and caught its mane, hanging onto the coarse hair as though it were a life-line. It reared again, lifting him violently from his feet.

  He grabbed an ear with his left hand, wrenching the head down mercilessly with all his strength. It tried to bite him, but he hung on. Once more he was ripped from his feet, but his grip on the ear was telling. The animal tried to rear again and again, but the fight was going out of it.

  Harrison vaulted astride and the horse went into a wild paroxysm of pitching and screaming again. It bent its head back, snapping with its teeth. Harrison balled his fist and struck it in the face. It staggered and seemed to sober a little. Harrison didn’t give it a chance to think matters over, but yelled to it and kicked it in the barrel with his heels. It went forward pitching and jumping.

  Then suddenly, it stood, trembling.

  A shot sounded from the far side of the corral and Harrison heard lead hum through the night away to his left.

  It was time to move out and no fooling. He got that horse on the move and it ran forward in a wild untidy run. Harrison clung to the mane and yelled it on. It settled down and ran. Ahead of him, Harrison could see the forms of more horses. He yelled like a Comanche and prayed that he could keep them spooked for a good many miles. He also prayed that he could keep a good many of them together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With the soft waters of the creek singing a love-song behind him and with Honoria in his arms, Jody, for the moment, forgot everything else in the world. Nothing else mattered except the wonderful armful of girl that he held close and warm against his body. They stood there for unmeasured time, unable to be close enough for their lustful wishes, kissing, murmuring each other’s names, saying stupid things which would have meant nothing to anybody else than themselves.

  Finally, the girl said: “I knew it, the first time I saw you. You were the only one.”

  “Me too,” said Jody. “I never felt about a girl like this before in all my life.”

  “You must think me fast,” she murmured.

  “I don’t think nothing” Jody said stoutly. “All I know is I have you an’ I want you.”

  “That night in your room,” she whispered. “I almost gave myself to you. You must think badly of me.”

  “No.” he said. “I wanted you too much. I want you now.”

  Honoria gave a little moan and clutched herself to him even tighter and by some miracle that comes upon the young in a moment of passion, they were on the ground under the willows consummating their love the gentle murmur of the creek in their ears. For Jody, the experience was a complete revelation. He had been through the last years of the War Between the States, a child soldier; he had been up the trail from Texas to Kansas; he had ridden the long dangerous trail from Colorado to the brasada country and in that time he had known women. But they had been no more than the implements of his lust, necessary adjuncts to his growing manhood.

  This was something different. This contained something which he had never felt for a woman before — tenderness. He knew that if he were caught here by Honoria’s father, he could discover himself to be a dead man. Yet the element of danger was momentarily forgotten. There was only this girl and the depth of his passion for her.

  They fought lovingly with each other, neither of them expert, but both matching each other to perfection, so that each thought the other perfect. And nothing more can be demanded in love. Finally, they lay spent in each other’s arms, minds and bodies at rest. He kissed her neck; she sat up and adjusted her clothes, patted her hair into place, then bent to kiss him gently on the mouth.

  “You were wonderful,” he said, his mouth against her hair.

  “I’ll never know anybody like you,” she returned.

  He laughed softly, confident in her now.

  “I don’t aim to give you the chance,” he said.

  She drew back from him, looking down at him. He could see the pale orb of her face above him, the darkness of her eyes.

  “What does that mean, honey?” she asked. Did her voice tremble ever so slightly?

  “I’m marryin’ you,” he told her, “that’s what it means. I have my money back from that thieving Englishman an’ I’m headed home. You’re comin’ with me.”

  She twisted herself and rose to her knees. Her voice sounded a little shocked.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” she asked, coldly polite. No longer the passionate girl of the moment before.

  Astonishment left him speechless for the moment. He lifted himself onto an elbow.

  “Ain’t that what’ this is all about?”

  “I never mentioned marriage.”

  “Wa-al, heck, girl, I thought—”

  “You thought I loved you, Jody,” she told him. “And you were right. I loved you. I still love you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry you. I’m promised to Henry Wilder and it’s him I’m going to marry.”

  “But you don’t love him.”

  “I never said I did.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s what he has to offer me. I’m not my father’s daughter for nothing.”

  “But he don’t have a penny to his name. An’ he’s a big con. He ain’t no more an English lord nor I am.”

  “Honey,” she said, “I know that as well as you do. Do you really think that a real English lord would marry the daughter of a Barbary Coast swindler? No, Wilder is the best I can do. Out here he’ll pass for what he claims to be. Nobody knows any better. I shall be a lady. My father has all the money in the world. I’m buying the other thing I need.”

  “You can’t push aside what we feel for each other just like that,” he almost shouted.

  “I can and I have.”

  “You mean you met me here in cold blood an’ —”

  Her laugh was gay. It trilled like music.

  “I thought we met in very warm blood,” she said.

  He climbed to his feet. He could have struck her.

  “Don’t hate me,” she said. “That would spoil everything.”

  “Ain’t everythin’ spoiled?”

  “Everything’s wonderful. Except that you’re mad at me.”

  He forgot his mother’s rule that a man never swore in front of a woman and he swore.

  “I been used like a goddam stud,” he said. “Now I’m dismissed an’ I just ride outa here.”

  “That would prove you to be a real gentleman,” she said.

  “But I ain’t a real gentleman or you’d be marrryin’ me,” he told her.

  At that moment, he felt the earth shake beneath his feet. He lifted his head. He heard the horses running then. A shout came. After that, a shot.

  That brought him back to earth somewhat. Harrison. The squawman was making his move.

  Jody tried to pull himself together. Unrequited love was one thing, self-preservation was another. Harrison was running off the horse-herd. The horses running could mean nothing else than that. Pretty soon the whole durned place was going to be swarming with riders.

  “Time I wasn’t here,” he said.

  She was alarmed by the noise.

  “What’s happening?” she said, rising quickly to her feet.

  He gave the meanest laugh he could drag
out of himself.

  “Your pa just lost his horse-herd,” he told her.

  She gave a cry and started to fight her way out of the willows. Jody started after her.

  A voice behind him said —

  “Stay where you are, Storm. Another step and I shall drop you in your tracks.”

  Wilder.

  He turned. He heard Honoria go running and calling toward the house. This was a really good end to a love scene. A chill ran through Jody that was like the chill of death.

  “What do you want this time?” he asked.

  Time seemed to stop.

  “The money. I have never been beaten over money and I don’t mean to stop now,” Wilder told him* “You’ve beaten me with the girl. Oh, I’ll marry her, but I’ll never have what you’ve had, old lad. It’s upsetting to say the least of it. I must say I’ve worked up quite a hate for you, Storm. I’m tempted to kill you here and now, I don’t mind admitting. But I’m a thief not a murderer. Give me back the belt.”

  Jody opened the front of his shirt and started to unstrap the money-belt.

  Wilder was no more than a shadow among other shadows. The only approximate way in which Jody could locate him was from the sound of his voice.

  He pulled the belt free of his body.

  “Throw it,” Wilder ordered.

  Jody drew in his breath deep and tossed the belt.

  Wilder moved forward to catch it.

  Jody made two coordinated moves. He stepped to the left and slapped his right hand down onto the butt of his gun. He cocked and triggered as Wilder fired. Jody continued on, moving left, jumping. He felt the brush of the bullet through his right sleeve. He flung himself to the ground as he fired a second time.

  The acrid powder-fumes stung his eyes and nostrils. He was aware that Wilder was walking backwards through the willows. He heard the crash of boughs as the man went down, the splash of water as Wilder went into the creek.

  Jody heaved himself to his feet, thrust the gun away and ran forward. He found the Englishman floundering in the shallows, gasping and coughing. A gun-barrel glittered dully in the starlight. He knocked it aside and it landed in the water with a splash. Catching Wilder by the collar, he dragged him ashore and dumped him.

  “Where you hit?” he asked.

  “Shoulder.”

  Jody took the money-belt from Wilder’s hand and looked down at him.

  “You’re welcome to the girl,” he said. “She’ll give you a hell of a life.”

  “There’ll be compensations,” Wilder said. His voice shook. He was in shock.

  Jody walked back along the creek, crossed over and reached his horse. Uproar reached him from the direction of the corrals. He untied Blue and stepped into the saddle. He felt as if he had just grown up. He also felt like a young man whose heart had been broken. Maybe one day he would believe that he was well rid of Honoria, but right now he could still feel her flesh on his flesh.

  He turned Blue south and rode along the creek shore.

  As he passed the spot where he had left Wilder lying, he heard the Englishman yelling. He lifted Blue into a brisk trot.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It wasn’t easy finding his way to the rendezvous with Prescott Harrison. It was dark and he was in country strange to him. The way he felt, he didn’t much care whether he met up with Harrison or not. He found the motte of trees and headed on due south from there, climbed onto the saddle and saw the shadows of a valley before him in the starlight. He reckoned that dawn wasn’t too far off. As he rode down off the saddle, a light breeze blew into his face and it refreshed him. He wondered vaguely about Harrison, if he had managed to get his hands on one of Rolf’s bulls. But that didn’t seem to matter much anymore. He had lost the girl.

  As he came down into the valley, he heard the whicker of a horse below him and this made him wary. The sound came from dead ahead, so he angled into the east and approached the position of the horse, or as near as he could guess at it in the dark.

  When he angled again and headed west, he stopped when he thought he heard the bellow of a bull. Was it possible?

  He edged Blue forward at a slow walk.

  He halted when he heard a voice sing out —

  “Hold it right there and let’s hear from you?”

  That was Harrison’s voice.

  “Storm,” he called back.

  “Come ahead, Jode.”

  The gray of dawn was fingering the sky. Jody found that he was cold.

  A moment later and there was Prescott Harrison standing at the head of his horse.

  “What kept you?” Harrison demanded. “Here we is with Rolf an’ his merry men on our butts and you have to take your time.”

  Jody looked around him with some amazement. Beyond Harrison were two people — a man and a woman. The woman was Manuela Salazar sitting side-saddle on a fine mare. The man was a Mexican Jody didn’t know.

  “Welcome, Jody,” the woman said and smiled. Harrison was beaming all over his bewhiskered face.

  “Howdy, ma’am,” Jody said.

  “This is Hijinio Chavez,” Harrison said. “My first hand.”

  Jody looked beyond him and saw the two fine bulls. He whistled.

  “Two bulls,” he said.

  “One for you an’ one for me, son,” Harrison said. If he wanted to comment on Honoria’s absence, he did not do so. Which showed that the man had tact.

  Jody looked beyond the bulls and saw the horses. Old Sox was there and the ponies Wilder had taken off him. Harrison had worked a miracle. While he had been loving Honoria in the bushes, Harrison had saved his bacon. He felt overcome.

  “Mr. Harrison,” he said, “you are the greatest.”

  Harrison laughed.

  “Took you a heck of a time to see it, boy,” he cried. “Cut your ponies out an’ leave us raise the dust. We don’t have all Rolf’s horses here an’ he could be breathin’ down our necks any minute. Hijinio, my friend, move them two bovine monsters out.”

  The Mexican whirled his rope, yipped at the bulls and headed them south. Jody rode over to the horses and cut out his stock, driving them after the bulls. One or two of them tried to make a break for the hills, but Blue headed them off. Old Sox plodded steadily south as if he knew what was demanded of him. What with the bulls and the loose horses, Jody didn’t think they had much chance if Rolf and his riders came after them. Manuela was an added worry. Jody didn’t like women around when there was trouble in the wind. She came to give Jody a hand with the horses, but her riding side-saddle did not make her task easy. When Harrison rode up, she complained to him and said that if he had given her fair warning that he was going to carry her off, she would have come wearing pants. This scandalized Jody a mite, but he reckoned that Manuela would look good enough to eat in pants. Harrison told her that as soon as they were out of the valley onto higher ground, he would find her a pair of pants and she could ride easy. He grumbled that the pace was too great for the bulls and they would run all their tallow off. Jody said that tallow wasn’t the purpose of bulls and Harrison laughed and said maybe he was right at that.

  They rattled on a fair pace, hit rising ground and went up into the hills. After a while Harrison called a halt. The bulls blew and looked pretty sorry for themselves. They weren’t accustomed to this kind of travel. As soon as they were a little rested, Harrison sent Hijinio on ahead with them. He found a pair of pants in his war bag and handed them to Manuela who retired behind some brush and appeared a short while after looking so comically beautiful that they were both forced to laugh at her. She pulled a face and declared that they were not gentlemen. Jody thought he had never seen a prettier sight. Hastily, Harrison, ever the extemporizer, rigged her up some kind of a saddle out of blankets and sheepskin and she was able to mount in some comfort.

  Harrison now said: “You go ahead with Manuela, son. Keep movin’. I’m goin’ back to take a look at our back-trail. Maybe Rolf has other horses to ketch up the bunch I lifted. If he does, it ain’t goin�
�� to look too bright for us.”

  “Have great care, Prescott,” Manuela said. “Rolf is a dangerous man.”

  Harrison chuckled.

  “Not near so damn dangerous as yours truly,” he boasted.

  “No shooting, please,” she said.

  “We’ll see,” Harrison said. He didn’t fool himself that Rolf wouldn’t kill. The man was master around here and he was the only law in this neck of the woods.

  They said farewell to him and rode on, driving the horses before them. It wasn’t long before they caught up with the shuffling bulls. The valuable animals were suffering now. Such stock were not made for hard trails. Jody began to wonder if they would survive the long trail to Three Creeks.

  Manuela turned to him.

  “So the young heart is broken,” she said.

  Jody grimaced.

  “I’m well out of it, Manuela,” he said.

  “So your mouth says,” she commented. “But your heart does not.”

  “She deserves Wilder.”

  “She is not a bad girl,” Manuela said. “She made life bearable for me in that place. She has great kindness. But she is her father’s daughter.”

  “Let’s not talk about her.”

  They rode on.

  After a while, Jody got to thinking about Harrison and the more he thought the more he deplored the fact that he was here riding to safety while Harrison headed back for trouble. The man was on the brink of a new life — he would have his own outfit, a woman to warm his house. He deserved to come through this alive.

  “Manuela,” he said, “you go ahead with Hijinio. I’m turnin’ back to side Harrison.”

  She looked grateful.

  “I should tell you to stay here,” she said. “But I would be comforted to know that you were with him.”

  He grinned at her.

  “He’ll come through,” he told her with a confidence he did not feel. “He always comes through. He’s that kind.”

  Manuela asked God to go with him and he turned Blue. When he looked back, he saw her lift a hand to him. He waved back. Harrison had gotten himself one hell of a woman there. There was some fine quality about her that raised a man’s admiration unreservedly.