“We wait for morning,” Blaine said, “and just before daybreak we’ll pull out.”
“Hell!” Rip said. “We’ve got ’em stopped now, why run?”
“The object,” Blaine said, “of any war is to destroy your enemy’s fighting force. With superior numbers and armament the British couldn’t whip Washington because they couldn’t pin him down. He always managed to pull out and leave them holding the bag. That’s what we do now.
“They’ll never own this ranch,” he said, “or the 46 as long as we’re alive and in the country. We can let ’em have it today, an’ we can take it back when we want it!”
Chapter 9
*
AT DAYBREAK THEY started east. Mary Blake, accompanied by the fat Maria, was to ride to the Mormon settlement. Later, they would return to Red Creek and do what might be done there toward retaining title to their land. Blaine, accompanied by Rip Coker and Timm, took to the rugged country to the south.
The sun was hot and the three rode steadily, circling deeper into the hills. With them they had three pack animals loaded with food and ammunition.
“Maverick Springs,” Timm told them. “That’s the best place for us. She’s ’way back in the hills in mighty rugged country.”
Blaine mopped the sweat from his face and squinted through the sunlight toward the west. From the top of the mesa they could see a long sweep of the valley and the river. Table Mountain was slightly north of west from them and they could see riders fording the river.
“Lee Fox,” Coker said. “Nevers won’t have it all his own way.”
“Nevers’ place is beyond, in Bloody Basin, if I recall,” Blaine said thoughtfully. “I figure we ought to pay him a visit after we cache these supplies.”
“Now you’re talkin’!” Coker agreed.
“An’ we’ll make three separate caches. No use havin’ all our eggs in one basket.”
They turned down into the canyon back of Razorback and made one cache at the base of Cypress Butte. They rode on through the tall pines, the air seeming cooler in their shade. There was the smell of heat, though, and the smell of dust. They took their time, anticipating no pursuit and not eager to tire their horses. Blaine thought several times of the stallion. He missed the fine horse and would pick him up in the next few days.
They rode at last into a secluded glen shielded on all sides by ranks of pines and aspens. Scattered among these were a few giant walnut trees. They were now close under the Mazatzals which Blaine had observed from the faraway rim of Tule Mesa.
At daybreak, they moved out following Tangle Creek up to the Basin where they found the Big N standing alone. The only man on the place was the cook, who came to the door with a rifle. Utah stopped. “Where’s Nevers?”
Coker had been bringing up the rear and at the first glimpse of the cook he had turned his horse sharply left and circled behind the house while Blaine stalled.
“Ain’t none o’ your business!” The cook retorted harshly. “Who ’re you?”
“Blaine’s the name.” Utah saw Coker slip from his horse and start toward the back side of the house. “You tell Nevers to stay off the 46 and the B-Bar or take the consequences.”
“Tell him yourself!” The cook retorted. He was about to amplify his remarks when the sharp prod of a gun muzzle cut him off short.
“Lower that shotgun mighty easy,” Coker said quietly. “You might miss but I can’t.”
The logic of this was evident to the cook. Gingerly he lowered the shotgun and Coker reached around and took it from his hands. “What you goin’ to do to me?” the cook demanded.
“You?” Blaine laughed. “We’ve no fight with you, man. Get us some grub. We’ve had a long ride and we ate a light breakfast. You just tell Nevers we were here. If he tries to grab any piece of the 46 we’ll burn him out right here. You tell him that.”
“There’s only three of you,” the cook objected, going about fixing the meal. “You won’t have a chance.”
“Well,” Coker said cheerfully, tipping back in his chair, “you can bet on this. If we go, our burials will come after that of Nevers. Take it from me.”
*
NEVERS WAS UNHAPPY. His men had closed in on the B-Bar ranch house only to find it deserted and empty. He was no fool, and he knew that there would be no safety for him or for anyone else on either the B-Bar or the 46 as long as Blaine was alive and in the vicinity.
Clell Miller rode in, unshaven and surly. Nevers went to him quickly. “Where’s Blaine? You seen him?”
“No.” Miller dismounted wearily. “An’ I don’t want to.”
“Losin’ your nerve?” Nevers sneered.
Miller turned sharply around and Nevers stiffened. “No,” Clell spoke slowly, “but I don’t like this. It looked good, but I don’t like it now.”
Nevers could see the man was on the ragged edge and he knew better than to push him. “What happened?”
“I met Tom Kelsey up on Mocking Bird,” he said, “an’ killed him.”
“Oh.” Nevers had liked Kelsey himself, and at the same time had known the man stood between them and the possession of the B-Bar.
“Blaine got away,” he said, “with Coker an’ Timm.”
“There’ll be hell to pay then,” Miller was gloomy. “Nevers, let’s call it off. I’m sick of it.”
“Call it off?” Nevers’ rage returned. “Are you crazy? The biggest deal ever an’ you want to call it off. Anyway,” he added practically, “nobody could stop it now. Even if we backed down the rest of them wouldn’t.”
“That’s right.” Clell Miller studied Nevers. “I wonder what will happen to you for the Neal killin’.”
Nevers jerked around. “I didn’t kill him.”
“Witter killed him at your orders. But now what? Neal had friends, Nevers. Friends down at Phoenix, friends in Tucson. Some of them will ask questions. Far as that goes, Neal told me one time he helped Virgil Earp out of a tight spot. The Earps stand by their friends. Look how they stuck with Doc Halliday.”
Nevers shook himself irritably. Despite his bluster, he was worried. Had he gone too far? But no—this was no time to waver and it was too late to turn back—much too late.
He scowled at the thought, then shook himself impatiently. “We’ll run Blaine down. We’ll have him in no time.”
“Think he’ll wait for you to come after him?”
Nevers turned his large head. “What do you mean?”
“Just this. I think he’ll hit us an’ hit hard. Have you forgotten Alta? I haven’t. And the bunch he tackled in Alta were so much tougher than most of our crowd there’s no comparison.”
They stood there, not liking any part of what they felt, knowing there was no way back. Yet there was no stopping. Nevers heard a scrape of heels behind him and he turned. One of his riders was standing not far away with a rifle in his hands. “Riders, boss, quite a bunch. Looks like Lee Fox.”
“Fox.” Nevers said it aloud. There was that, too.
A tall man rode up on a yellow buckskin. He pulled up sharply and looked around him. “Moved right in, Nevers? Well, you keep it. I’m headin’ for the 46.”
“Nobody’s made any claim yet.” Nevers held himself in. “I want the 46 an’ part of the B-Bar. You can have the rest.”
Fox smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. Nevers had the feeling that he had had before. This man was riding the borderline of insanity. “Got it all figured, have you? What about Ben Otten?”
“He’s out of it.”
“Tell him that. You’ve got to take him in or he’ll go to Neal’s friends.”
Grudgingly, Nevers admitted this. Where all had been simple, now all was complication. Maybe Miller wasn’t getting weak-kneed after all; maybe he was just getting smart. “Go on up to the 46,” he said. “We can settle it later.”
Fox did not move. “We can settle now if you like.”
Nevers was a bulldog. His big head came up slowly and he stared at Fox. “That makes no sense, Fox. No se
nse in killin’ ourselves off.” He turned slowly. “Lud, open that keg of whiskey. We might as well celebrate.”
Fuller got up heavily. He had been profoundly shocked by Blaine’s swift and brutal cutting down of Ortmann. It was something long believed impossible, yet the slashing power of Utah’s fists had been a shocking thing. It had been soon apparent to all that Blaine had been the faster of the two, and he had hit the harder. Despite Ortmann’s huge size, his blows had shaken Utah. They had failed to keep him down. By his victory, Utah Blaine had seemed invincible, then on top of this he had fired Fuller and had told him to get out of the country.
Fuller had said nothing about the fight. The news was around though, and while the men gathered to empty the half of whiskey, talk swung to it. “Never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” Fuller said.
All eyes turned to him. Miller stepped forward, quick with interest. “You saw it?”
“Yeah.” Fuller straightened up from driving the spigot into the keg that sat on an outdoor table. “Blaine ruined him. He cut him down like you’d cut up a beef. Ortmann was rugged but he never had a chance.”
There was silence, and then a cool voice interrupted: “Am I invited?”
They turned swiftly. Utah Blaine stood there, his feet apart, his green eyes hard and ready beneath the flat brim of his hat. Beyond him, still astride their horses, were Rip Coker and Timm. Each held a shotgun taken from the Big N.
Nevers’ face turned crimson. “You? Here?” His voice was thick.
“Why, sure.” Utah let his eyes go slowly from one to the other and finally settled on Lud Fuller. The face of the 46 foreman turned white. “Don’t let it get you, Lud. I invited myself here. You still got time to leave the country. But don’t let me meet with you again.”
“What do you want?” Nevers demanded.
“Want? Why, I saw you fellas were openin’ a keg so we thought we’d come down.” Blaine turned his eyes slowly to Nevers. “You sure make a nice target through the sights of a Winchester, Nevers. I come darn near liquidatin’ the stock of the Big N.”
Nevers stared at Blaine, hatred swelling within him. Yet even as it mounted, a little voice of caution whispered that he should go slowly. This situation was shot through with death.
“Had my sights on Miller, too,” Blaine said. “I sort of like the looks of you boys with my sight partin’ your eyes. It’s a right good feelin’. I might have shot Miller, but I promised him.”
Clell’s nerves were jumping. “Yeah? To who?”
“Me, Clell,” Rip Coker was smiling wickedly. “I asked for you. I always figured you weren’t as salty with that six-gun as you figured. An’ when we tangle remember it ain’t goin’ to be like it was with Tom Kelsey. That was murder, Clell.”
Clell glared, but his eyes shifted. Timm’s glance met his and Clell felt a little shiver. That quiet man—square-faced, cool, calm, steady Timm—his eyes held a kind of hatred that Clell had never seen before.
“Kelsey an’ me rode together for years, Clell,” Timm said.
Blaine stepped forward and jerked the tin cup from Nevers’ fingers. Then he filled it partly. Stepping back, he looked at Nevers. “I’m goin’ to kill you, Nevers,” he said quietly, “but not today. We’re just visitin’ today. I promised Coker that I wouldn’t kill you today if he wouldn’t tackle Miller.”
He turned and walked back, handing the cup up to Timm, who took a swallow, then passed it to Rip. Coker laughed and emptied the cup. Utah Blaine walked back, his spurs jingling. Nobody spoke; the riders stood around, watching him. Clell felt a faint stir of reluctant admiration. This man had guts, he told himself.
Rightly, Blaine had gauged them well. No Western man in his right mind was going to try reaching for a gun when three armed men, two of them with ready guns, covered him. One man Blaine was not sure about was Lee Fox. Fox was a man who might gamble. Yet even as Utah thought that his slanting eyes went to Coker.
Rip was watching Fox with care. Trust Rip to know where the danger lay.
“Yeah,” Blaine said, “you’ve started the killing with two murders, Neal and Kelsey. Both were good men. The killing can stop there if you back up and get off this ranch and stay off it and the 46 Connected.”
“If you think we’ll do that,” Nevers replied, “you’re crazy!”
“We won’t back up,” Fox interjected.
Utah Blaine took another drink and then replaced the cup on the keg. He stepped back. “All right, boys, this goes for every man jack of you. Get off the two ranches by sundown or the war’s on. We’ll kill you wherever we find you and we’ll hang any man who injures any one of us.”
“You talk mighty big for such a small outfit.”
“Want to try your hand right now, Nevers?” Blaine looked at him from under the brim of his hat.
“Plenty of time,” Nevers said.
Utah swung into the saddle. “All right, we’ve told you. Now it’s on your head.”
Suddenly his gun sprang to his hand. “Drop your belts!” The words cracked like a whip. “Drop ’em, an’ no mistakes!”
As one man their hands leaped to the buckles and they let go their gunbelts. “All right,” Blaine said. “Turn around!” They turned, and then Blaine said, “Now run! Last man gets a load of buckshot!”
As one man they sprang forward and raced for the draw, and wheeling their horses, the three rode out of the clearing and into the trail.
Hearing the horses’ hoofs, Nevers braced to a stop and yelled, “Horses! Get after ’em! I’ll give five hundred dollars for Blaine, dead or alive!”
Chapter 10
*
TIMM LED OFF as they left the Basin. Instead of taking the trail for Mocking Bird Pass he swung west into the bed of Soda Springs Creek. Trusting Timm’s knowledge of the country, Blaine trailed behind him with Coker bringing up the rear. They rode swiftly, confident their start would keep them ahead without killing their horses.
Timm swung suddenly west over a shelf of rock. He turned up over a saddle in the Mustangs and into a creek bottom. The creek was dry now. Ahead of them loomed the battlemented side of Turret Peak where Apaches had been trapped and captured long ago.
“Fox had me worried. I was afraid he wouldn’t stampede.” Coker’s comment was in line with Blaine’s own thoughts. “It’ll set him wild.”
“Yeah, we’re on the run now for sure.”
Timm had nothing to say. The older man studied the hills, selecting their route with infinite care, leaving as little trail as possible. They turned and doubled back, choosing rocky shelves of sand so deep their tracks were formless and shapeless, mingling with those of wild horses and of cattle.
“How far are we from Otten’s place?” Blaine asked.
“Just a whoop and a holler.” Timm turned in his saddle. His face looked strangely youthful now, and Blaine noticed the humor around his eyes. Timm was taking to this like a duck to water. It probably brought memories of old days of campaigning. “You want to go over there?”
“Sure. As long as we’re ridin’, let’s drop in on him.”
“That outfit will be runnin’ us,” Coker warned.
“I know that. So this may be our last and only chance to see Otten.”
Luckily, the banker was at the ranch. He came out of the house when he saw them approaching, but his face shadowed when he identified them. “What are you doin’ here, Blaine? You’d best ride on out of the country.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Blaine watched Timm lead the horses to the trough. “We’re not goin’, Ben. We’re stayin’. We’re goin’ to fight it out.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Ben Otten was more worried than angry. “Look, boys, you don’t have a chance! The whole country’s against you. I don’t want to see any more killing. Ride on out. If you’re broke, I’ll stake you.”
“No.” Blaine’s voice was flat. He looked at Otten with cool, hard eyes. “I don’t like bein’ pushed and I’m not going to run. If I have to die here
, I will. But believe me, Ben, they’ll bury some men along with me.”
“That’s no way to talk.” Otten was worried. He came down from the steps. “Where’s Mary? What happened to her?”
“She’s over in the Mormon settlements. She’ll be safe if she stays there.”
“Where’s Tom Kelsey?”
“Then you haven’t heard? Clell Miller killed him. Joe Neal’s dead, too.”
Otten nodded. “I know that. I’m sorry about Tom. Neal should have stayed out while he had the chance.”
Utah Blaine stared down at the banker, his opinion showing in his eyes. “Ben,” he said frankly, “you’ve the look of a good man. I hate to see you running with this pack of coyotes! Soon’s a man is down you all run in to snap and tear at him.”
“That’s a hell of a thing to say.” Otten kicked dirt with his boot toe. “Where’d you come from?”
“The B-Bar. We faced up to Nevers and Fox over there. Stopped by to tell them what they were buckin’. That’s why we stopped here, Ben. You know what this means, don’t you?”
Otten looked up, his eyes granite hard. “What does what mean? You’re not bluffin’ me, Utah!”
“I never bluff, Ben.” Blaine said it quietly and the older man felt a distinct chill. “I’m just tellin’ you. Run with that pack and you’re through. I’ll run you out of the country.”
Otten’s face darkened and he stepped forward, so furious he could scarcely speak. “You!” he shouted. “You’ll run me out! Why you ragged-tailed gunslinger! You’re nothin’ but a damned driftin’ outlaw! You stay here an’ I’ll see you hung! Don’t you come around here tellin’ me!”
“I’ve told you.” Blaine turned his back on him and gathered up the reins of his horse.
“Let’s go, Utah.” Timm’s voice showed his worry. “They’ll be right behind us.”
Blaine swung into the leather and then turned, dropping his glance to Otten. “Make your choice, man. But make it right. You’ve done nothing against me yet, so don’t start.”
In a tight group, the three rode out of the yard and Ben Otten stared after them, his hand on his gun. Why, the man was insane! He was on the run and he talked like it was the other way around! He’d…! Ben’s fury trailed off and old stories came flooding back into his mind. This man, alone and without help, had walked into Alta and tamed the town.
Novel 1954 - Utah Blaine (As Jim Mayo) (v5.0) Page 7