Halliday 5

by Adam Brady

  He turned away, retching and cursing and knowing that this was the image that would come to his mind whenever he heard her name or remembered their time together.

  He found her torn and bloodied clothes and used them to cover her body. As he was about to lift her, he felt more blood and discovered the wound on the back of her head. That gave him some comfort. The wound was so severe that maybe she never knew what that madman had done to her.

  After a time, he got to his feet and started to study the ground underfoot, and he finally made out the killer’s trail. He had no way of knowing how many miles the man had put between them, but it did not matter. He would find him. He was certain of that. Deadly certain.

  Dora’s little mare was standing just over the hill. It stepped nervously away from him at first, but finally it stood still and let him pick up its trailing reins. He talked soothingly to it and stroked the soft muzzle until it stopped trembling, and then he led it back to Dora’s body.

  “This is all you can do for her now, girl,” he said as he tied the body across the saddle. “Me, I’ve got somethin’ else I can do.”

  First on foot and then riding his sorrel, Halliday led the mare down the hill until they reached the bottom. Then he turned his sorrel in the direction of the Rocking L.

  Four – ‘I’ll Find Him!’

  Ever since he had arrived home and found Dora still missing, Ben Hillary had been watching out for her.

  His crew had taken the herd down to the lower pasture, and then he had sent them to town so they could report to Sheriff Mose Mooney. Then he gave them the rest of the night off.

  For hours, Hillary had been thinking of all the things he might have done for Dora, especially after he had lost his wife and she her mother. It was true, of course, that he had been busy with the ranch and with his own grieving and loneliness. Being honest, he had to admit that it also was a hell of a lot easier to immerse himself in the price of beef cattle, the problem with the rustlers and maintaining control of the hired men.

  He decided that some changes would have to be made—getting closer to his daughter his highest priority. She could do with some fatherly advice. There were just too many ways a young girl could run off the rails without a mother to guide her. That was not to say that he saw anything wrong with Dora taking up with Buck Halliday.

  The man was a drifter, he knew, and a capable one, and there was no way of knowing what skeletons he might have in his closet. He had done the right thing by Hillary, though, and that was all the rancher could ask of him.

  Hillary was on his feet and straining to see who was coming as soon as he saw the moving dot on the skyline. His heart beat faster when he identified two horses. His hand tightened on the porch rail until the knuckles turned white when he saw only one rider.

  By the time Halliday rode into the yard, Hillary’s throat was so dry that he could barely swallow.

  Halliday stopped just short of him, and there was a long silence before the rancher could bring himself to look at the horse Halliday was leading—Dora’s little mare.

  Hillary was tearing at the ropes that bound the long, thin bundle to the saddle before Halliday could dismount and say;

  “That’s how I found her, Mr. Hillary. She was back in the hills. I’m sorry ... too sorry for words.”

  Hillary could not get out a suitable response. Tears welled in his eyes and he shook his head from side to side as if he was trying to deny what he already knew.

  “I think I know who did it, Mr. Hillary,” Halliday said slowly, “and I aim to find him, no matter how long it takes.”

  Ben Hillary wasn’t listening. He touched his daughter’s battered face, tears running unashamedly down his grizzled cheeks.

  Suddenly, he pressed his face into the mare’s mane and wept.

  “I’ll take her inside, Mr. Hillary,” Halliday said gently, and then he lifted the girl’s body in his arms and took her into the house.

  He laid her on her bed and went immediately to the kitchen.

  “I reckon we can both do with a drink,” he said when he returned and went to the rancher who was now slumped in a chair in the parlor.

  They drank in silence, and then Halliday said;

  “I’ll be leavin’ soon, Mr. Hillary. This is somethin’ I have to do ... for both of us. Tom Rainer was the one who went after your herd, and he’s the one I have to find.”

  “Rainer, Buck?” Hillary repeated dully. “You think he did this to my little girl?”

  “I can’t say for sure,” Halliday told him. “Maybe you can tell me, if you know what he’s like.”

  “I need to hear it all, Buck,” the rancher said hoarsely. “Don’t leave anythin’ out.”

  “Reckon you’ve got a right,” Halliday said. “Dora was waitin’ for me at the lineshack. So was Adam Walsh. I accused him of showin’ yellow when he ran off when the rustlers appeared. He made a grab for Dora and he drew a gun on me. I had no choice but to shoot first.”

  Hillary frowned and shook his head.

  “Adam was with me for more’n four years,” Hillary said. “He was a good worker, always minded his manners.”

  “But he wanted to get his hands on your daughter,” Halliday said. “Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened on a successful ranch. The only difference here was that he turned mean when Dora turned him down.”

  “Then what happened?” Hillary asked.

  “Dora and I were on the way back here when two men took shots at us—one feller dressed like a dude and a skinny feller dressed in black. When they started shootin’, I told Dora to hightail for home. In the confusion, we got separated. I put a bullet in the dude, and he made a run for it. When I went after the other feller, I could see that he was hot on Dora’s tail. I trailed them both into the hills ... but I got there too late.”

  “You said he was a skinny feller dressed in black?” Hillary breathed. “That’d be Tom Rainer, all right. He made a nuisance of himself a few months back in town.”

  “I’ll find him, Mr. Hillary. That’s a promise. Will you be all right here on your own?”

  “I’ll be fine, Buck,” Hillary said. “But I sure won’t be here. I’m comin’ with you on the hunt.”

  Halliday had expected this reaction, and he said firmly, “You’d only slow me down, Mr. Hillary.”

  “Dora was all I had left in the world,” Hillary stressed. “She meant everythin’ to me.”

  “She meant a lot to me, too, Mr. Hillary. A lot more than I even realized. Now I’m goin’ into town to see the sheriff, and then I’ll be on my way.”

  Hillary opened his mouth to argue again, but Halliday shook his head.

  “You know I’m right, Mr. Hillary,” Halliday said. “You’ve got to organize Dora’s funeral, and then you have a ranch to run. I’ll be back. That’s also a promise.”

  Hillary studied Halliday gravely for a long moment before he stepped forward and clamped a hand on his shoulder. Then he whispered hoarsely;

  “Guess you know what’s best, Buck. But if you fail, get word to me. I want to see Tom Rainer swing for what he’s done.”

  Halliday nodded and started for the door. He was in the saddle and lifting the reins when Hillary came out to him and said;

  “One more thing, Buck.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Hillary?”

  “You and my Dora. Did you ... did you ...?”

  “We did.”

  “Would you have married her?”

  Halliday hesitated for a moment, but then he saw the desperation in Hillary’s eyes.

  “We talked about it, Mr. Hillary.”

  Mose Mooney sat back in his desk chair, shook his head at Buck Halliday and muttered;

  “The hell you say! Are you tryin’ to tell me all that stuff happened in the space of one day and a night?”

  “Just like I said it, Sheriff,” Halliday told him. “Now what can you tell me about Tom Rainer? I caught a glimpse of him once or twice, but didn’t get a close enough look. I want to be sure I recog
nize him when I catch up with him.”

  “Tom Rainer’s a gunman, Halliday, and a good one. I guess we’ve both run into his kind before. Most people have. Nobody knows much about his early life, but when he was about seventeen, he turned up at Glory Creek and went against Ben Williamson. You’ve heard of Williamson?”

  Halliday shook his head.

  “He had a rep as a top gun that he’d earned down south. Some say he had seven notches on his gun when Rainer killed him.”

  Mooney raked his white hair back from his forehead. He looked more like sixty than the forty years he admitted to. He had been a lawman since he was a young buck, and he had always been known as a fair man.

  “After that,” Mooney went on, “Rainer grew way too big for his boots. The story goes that he took on one of the Younger gang and killed him, too. The whole clan went after him, but they never found him. As most of his kind do, he went underground then turned to crime. Before long, he had a price on his head. That didn’t seem to worry him—at least it didn’t the time I locked horns with him and damn near got myself killed.”

  Mooney looked up from his desk as if he was expecting some kind of a reaction, but there was no change in Halliday’s deadpan expression.

  “Tell me about it,” Halliday said calmly.

  “Word had it that he and three of his pards came to town. I got a posse together as soon as I was told. We surrounded the saloon where they were drinkin’, but somehow Rainer had been warned. He was waitin’ for us. Two posse men were wounded in the gunfight, and that made me mad as hell. When I saw them go down, I guess I kinda lost my head. Figured I was responsible. When I lit into that bunch, Rainer’s pards hit the trail. But not him. He stood his ground and called me out. If I hadn’t backed off, I’d probably be dead now.”

  “What did you do then?” Halliday asked.

  “He didn’t even seem to be in a hurry to get gone. Picked out four bottles of whiskey for himself first, and then he shot up the whole damn street on his way outta town.”

  “Did you go after him?”

  “Couldn’t get a posse together willin’ to risk their necks. Next I heard he was headin’ for Black Eagle County. I know the sheriff there—Joe McCallum’s his name. I sent off a telegram to warn him, but it turned out he knew all about Tom Rainer. Old Ed Rainer runs a freight line business in the county. McCallum figures Tom slips into the county now and then, but he’s never been able to nab him. Damn good thing, too, or Black Eagle County would be short one honest lawman.”

  Halliday got to his feet and asked;

  “What about the dude I told you about?”

  Mooney shook his head.

  “Probably just another gunman wantin’ to make a name for himself who parded up with Rainer. You know how it goes. They come and go. That breed always seem to be able to sniff each other out. I can see you’re fixin’ to go now, but I got just one word of advice for you first.”

  Halliday waited to hear it. Mooney reached up and patted his left shoulder.

  “Rainer’s lightnin’ fast, and he don’t give much of a warnin’ when he’s ready to draw. Only thing I noticed is that he drops his shoulder just before he goes for his gun. He’s mean and he’s crazy as a loon. And he doesn’t seem to show any fear. I don’t like your chances against him, Halliday, but I guess I’m just wastin’ my breath, huh?”

  “I have to go after him,” Halliday said simply.

  “Then go. I won’t try to stop you. But I will ride out and see Ben in the mornin’. He’s very respected in this town. But I agree there’s no sense in him followin’ and gettin’ in your hair.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you went out and saw him,” Halliday said as he moved toward the door.

  “Another thing to remember,” the sheriff added, “is that Rainer doesn’t always ride with a bunch. He only calls on help when he thinks he needs it.”

  “Obliged, Sheriff,” Halliday said, and extended his hand.

  Mooney gripped and said, “Luck, Halliday. If you pull this off, come back and I’ll buy you a drink. Maybe even two.”

  Like Mose Mooney, Joe McCallum looked older than his years. The little hair he had was gray, and his lined face and mustache drooped in the perpetual disappointment of a man who has seen the human race at its worst.

  It was his habit to make sure of a man before he gave him information or expressed an opinion. Halliday waited while the lawman sized him up, until finally, he said;

  “Sheriff Mooney said to look you up. Mind if I sit?”

  McCallum shrugged and Halliday pulled a chair up to the desk. Then the sheriff said;

  “You a cowpoke, Mr. Halliday?”

  “I’ve punched cattle and done a few other things in my time,” Halliday replied.

  McCallum sniffed and said;

  “So Mose Mooney told you to look me up, huh? What for?”

  “I’m looking for a man named Tom Rainer. Mooney said Rainer’s father has a freight line business here. I figured you could help me find his son, or at least tell me where I can find Tom’s father.”

  “What do you want with Tom?” McCallum asked casually.

  “I want to kill him,” came the stone-faced reply.

  McCallum’s eyebrows arched and then his face split into a grin.

  “That’s not the first time I’ve heard a statement like that, Mr. Halliday. Maybe you’ll be so kind as to tell me why you want to kill him.”

  “Sure,” Halliday said, just as casually.

  As he told his story, McCallum lost his look of disinterest, and in the end, the lawman was leaning forward in his chair.

  “Rape and murder and a little rustlin’ thrown in for good measure. You’ve had it pretty damn wild up there!”

  “It might get that way down here soon enough,” Halliday said.

  McCallum scowled and rolled up one sleeve. He took his time doing it and Halliday knew that he was stalling for time, digesting the information he had just been fed.

  Halliday decided that he liked this lawman.

  Then McCallum was on his feet, rolling up his other sleeve and regarding Halliday with an unblinking stare as he said;

  “All right, Mr. Halliday. I’ll do what I can. But I want your word that you’ll work in with me on this. Tom Rainer’s father runs a respectable freight line business like you said, and I don’t blame him for the way his son’s turned out.”

  Halliday nodded and said;

  “I didn’t come here to kill the old man.”

  “You may not kill anybody at all, Mr. Halliday. As I hear it, Tom’s pretty good with a gun. Nobody I ever know has got the better of him yet.”

  “There’s always a first time, Sheriff,” Halliday said flatly. “I aim to be it.”

  To Halliday’s surprise, the lawman’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

  “Maybe we should discuss this over a drink,” McCallum said. “I find that people don’t open up enough in an office. Maybe they get to thinkin’ that they’re only a short step away from bein’ locked in a cell.”

  McCallum smiled and picked up his hat. When they were walking together along the weathered boardwalk, he expanded on what he knew of Tom Rainer.

  “I keep track of him the best I can, but it’s not easy. Folks are afraid of what he’d do to a Judas. Most of what I hear is old news and not worth a damn. I do know he calls in on Ed two or three times a year. But I don’t know if Ed appreciates his visits. He doesn’t talk about his boy to anyone. It looks to me like Tom comes back home when he’s got himself in more trouble than he can handle—and home’s where he feels the safest.”

  McCallum shot a glance at Halliday when he added;

  “But he won’t be safe in my town anymore. Hell, it sure is hard picturin’ what he did to that poor girl!”

  Halliday saw that his first impression of the lawman had been correct. Here was an honest man with plenty of regard for right and wrong.

  Halliday was asking more about Ed Rainer when he suddenly went quiet and
fixed his gaze on an alley across the street where a tall, well-dressed man stepped out of the shadows. He looked casually up and down the street and turned into the front yard of a small clapboard house.

  “Whatever it is, Halliday, just you hold it,” McCallum said.

  “That’s one of them,” Halliday said quietly. “The dude that rides with Tom Rainer.”

  “You sure?”

  “Damn right I’m sure,” Halliday insisted. “Now you step away and let me handle this.”

  “I can’t do that, Mr. Halliday,” McCallum said calmly. “I run this town and I’ll do it my way.”

  “I’m tellin’ you that’s the man I saw with Tom Rainer.”

  “Maybe he is,” the sheriff said with a shrug, “but all he’s doin’ right now is goin’ into that house. All we gotta do is walk over there and ask him a couple questions. Ain’t that better than havin’ lead flyin’ all up and down the street and maybe hittin’ some innocent folks?”

  “All he’s gonna do is lie to you,” Halliday argued.

  “He can try, and you can try to let me handle this the lawful way. By the way, the feller’s name is Cole Turner.”

  “I don’t need to know his name, Sheriff!” Halliday snapped. “I just know he’s one of the bastards that tried to kill me. Plenty of Mr. Hillary’s hands saw him, too. They’ll back up my story.”

  “Those fellers ain’t here, but you and Turner are. So for now, it’s his word against yours, although I will say I’m inclined to believe you. Now just to make sure you understand what I’m sayin’, we’re gonna do this my way. Got it?”

  Halliday had to go along with that.

  “All right.”

  “Good.”

  They fell silent as they watched Turner climb the steps and knock on the door. A woman answered the door and called to someone inside the house. Even at this distance it was clear that she was young and pretty. An old man joined her in the doorway, and then Turner followed them inside.

  Halliday hung back until the lawman moved out into the street. As they walked, McCallum said;