He didn’t know just what that reason was, but of one thing he was certain. He needed to get away somehow. He wondered what had become of the marshal. He was certain that Purdom had been injured and there was a big chance that he would get the blame for it, the same way he had taken the blame for the bank robbery. It wouldn’t matter that he had had no choice. Addison and some of his hardcases had broken into the marshal’s house without warning. It would have been better if he had stayed in jail.
He thought about the stranger who had appeared out of the blue. Although Ty couldn’t be blamed for what had happened, he felt that he had somehow betrayed the man’s trust. All of which made it more incumbent upon him than ever somehow to make his getaway. He would return to Chaparral Bend and try to clear his name whatever the consequences – and they were likely to be grave. Most of the town was against him because of the robbery; the place might still be seething with hostility towards him if people believed he was responsible for what had happened to the marshal. And he was sure that they would feel that way. What would his poor old grandmother make of it all?
The more Kitchenbrand thought about the situation, the less he liked it. It had seemed the obvious thing to do to follow the gunslicks’ trail back to Chaparral Bend, but the more he considered the matter, the less confident he felt. If there were so few riders, what had become of the rest of the outlaws? If they were the ones responsible for wounding the marshal and taking Ty Garland, was it not likely that Garland was still back there in the hills?
He had assumed that the roost he and Virginy had ridden into comprised the whole of the outlaw hideout, but from what Delta had said and what his own instincts told him, there was more to the roost than what they had seen. The Buzzard range was extensive. Behind the hills they had ridden into there were other ranges. The place was out of bounds to anyone except outlaws and desperadoes.
The conclusion seemed to be more and more obvious that the shanty town of shacks, with its false-front saloon, wasn’t the outlaws’ only retreat. In which case, Ty Garland could still be there, concealed somewhere in the maze of coulees and canyons lying deeper in the wilderness.
If that was true, a further question arose. What were the riders they were following doing? Why had they left the roost and come back in the direction of Chaparral Bend? It would have made more sense for them to make themselves scarce, especially if the bank robbery was taken into account. Why had they taken a back trail which led, according to Virginy, in the direction of the Latigo ranch? Again his thoughts brought him up against the name of Landon Clovis.
Kitchenbrand tried to put his thoughts to one side as they approached Virginy’s shack. He had some vague concern that someone might have found the place, but it was exactly as they had left it.
‘You worry too much,’ Virginy said when he mentioned his concerns.
‘Guess that’s one reason I manage to stay alive,’ he retorted.
He had been apprehensive about how Delta would regard the shack but he needn’t have worried. With Virginy’s support, she seemed to find herself quite at home. While the women were making themselves comfortable, Kitchenbrand tended to the horses. When he had fed and watered them and given them a rub-down, he set his saddle back on the roan.
‘Where are you goin’?’ Virginy said.
‘Figured I’d ride into town and see how the marshal is,’ Kitchenbrand replied.
She nodded. ‘I been thinkin’ about Purdom myself,’ she said.
‘You sure you’ll be OK here while I’m gone?’ he queried.
‘Why shouldn’t I? You get goin’. Give the marshal my regards.’
Kitchenbrand stepped into leather. When he was close to town he dismounted and hobbled the roan before going the rest of the way on foot. If Addison was in town, he didn’t want to advertise his arrival. Quickly he made his way to the marshal’s house; when he knocked on the door it was opened by Bella Mayes.
‘Don’t I know you from somewheres?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. Me and the marshal had coffee at the Fashion Restaurant.’
Recognition showed in her face. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I remember now. Wasn’t that the day the marshal got shot?’
‘Yeah. That’s what I’ve come for. To see how he’s gettin’ on.’
As if in answer to his query there came a shout from inside the house. ‘Seems like I recognize that voice. If it’s Hollis Kitchenbrand, show him right on in.’
Bella smiled. ‘Guess you got your answer,’ she said. She motioned for Kitchenbrand to enter. He went into the main room but Purdom wasn’t there.
‘Out back,’ Bella said. ‘On the veranda.’
Just at that moment the marshal appeared in the doorway. His head was swathed in a bandage and a lump beneath his shirt indicated he had a compress on his chest, but otherwise he looked in good condition.
‘Still takes me a moment or two to get goin’,’ he said. ‘Kitchenbrand, it’s sure good to see you.’ Kitchenbrand shook his outstretched hand.
‘Coffee?’ Bella asked.
Before Kitchenbrand could reply, the marshal answered for him. ‘I figure our visitor might appreciate somethin’ a little stronger,’ he said. ‘Ain’t that right, Kitchenbrand?’
‘Whatever you got,’ Kitchenbrand replied.
The marshal ushered him to the veranda where two chairs stood next to a table on which stood a half-full bottle of whiskey. Purdom pointed to one chair and sank into the other himself.
‘I’ll get Mr Kitchenbrand a glass,’ Bella said. She turned to him. ‘I’ve tried tellin’ him the whiskey ain’t what Doc Groves ordered, but he’s incorrigible.’ She went away and returned after a few moments with a glass and another bottle. ‘I’ll leave you boys to it,’ she said.
When she had gone Purdom poured the whiskey ‘This ain’t none of your tarantula juice,’ he said. ‘Best Irish. All the way from St Louis.’
Kitchenbrand took a good sip. ‘Yeah, that sure hits the spot,’ he said.
He looked out from the veranda over the garden which sloped down to a stream beyond which the land rose towards a line of trees. It was a peaceful scene now. He turned back to Purdom. ‘So how are you doin?’ he said.
‘Doc Groves done a good job and Bella is as good a nurse as a body’d be likely to find. To tell you the truth, I don’t think I was hurt too bad.’
‘You lost a lot of blood,’ Kitchenbrand replied.
‘Yeah, maybe so, but the bullet didn’t touch nothin’ vital. As for the head wound, it ain’t the first time I been slugged and it ain’t likely to be the last. But what about you, Kitchenbrand? I figured you went after whoever jumped me.’
In as few words as it took to make the story intelligible, Kitchenbrand outlined what had happened since he had left Chaparral Bend. When he had finished, the marshal looked thoughtful.
‘So what do you think?’ he asked. ‘Do you still reckon Garland is innocent, that he didn’t know anythin’ about all this?’
Kitchenbrand took another swig of the whiskey. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘but I still got a leanin’ to favour old Virginy.’
Purdom grunted. ‘You know somethin’?’ he said. ‘I figure you could be right. I don’t recall anythin’ much of the attack, but I got a feelin’ that Garland was taken by surprise as much as me.’ He paused, trying to remember what had happened, but then shook his head. ‘So what do you intend doin’ now?’ he asked.
‘I ain’t sure, but I got a hunch that Garland might still be back in those hills.’
‘You goin’ back?’
‘Yup. But I’d like to know what Addison is doin’ around Chaparral Bend.’
‘Are you sure he’s here?’
‘If not him, some of his gunnies certainly are.’ Kitchenbrand looked again at the marshal. ‘Somethin’ else,’ he said. ‘What can you tell me about Landon Clovis?’
The marshal grunted before finishing his drink. He reached for the new bottle and splashed some of it into their glasses. ‘Landon Clovis is a big
power around these parts,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘His name seems to crop up quite often,’ Kitchenbrand replied. ‘I’m dealin’ a lot in hunches, but I got another one that there could be some sort of tie-in between the Yuma gang and Clovis.’
‘Funny you should say that. I ain’t got nothin’ on Clovis, but I don’t like him. He seems to get his way a mite too often. I’ve had my suspicions about him too, but he’s clever, clever enough not to get himself in trouble with the law.’
‘Maybe for once he’s got too clever,’ Kitchenbrand said.
They lapsed into silence till eventually Purdom spoke again. ‘Do you intend stayin’ in town for long?’
‘Nope,’ Kitchenbrand replied. He hadn’t given it much thought.
‘You’re welcome to stay here.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but Virginy and the girl will be expectin’ me back.’ He got to his feet. ‘Glad to see you lookin’ so good,’ he said. ‘That whiskey sure seems to be doin’ the trick.’
‘I figure I’m almost right,’ Purdom said. He seemed about to elaborate but instead got to his feet to accompany Kitchenbrand to the front door.
Bella appeared from the kitchen. ‘You’re goin’ already?’ she asked.
‘Mr Kitchenbrand has some business in town,’ Purdom said.
As he walked away, Kitchenbrand looked back at the pair of them framed in the doorway of the house. Evening was drawing down and his intention was to return immediately to the shack, but something Purdom had said made him resolve to go back the next morning. Maybe he could flush out some information, even just a rumour, in Chaparral Bend before heading out to pay another visit to the outlaw roost.
It seemed an age to Ty Garland that he had been standing behind the door of the room in which he was imprisoned, waiting for the arrival of his captors. He had almost given up hope when he heard the sound of boots scraping the floor and then the jingling of keys. The moment that the door swung open he launched himself upon the first person who entered the room. The man was pushed back and Garland landed on top of him, bringing his fist down with a crash into the man’s face. As he swung his arm up to deliver a second blow someone seized it and then another arm was round his neck, pulling him back and closing so tight that he began to choke. He felt a boot thud into his stomach and then a black sickness surged up and overwhelmed him.
He could only have been unconscious for a few moments because when he came round he was kneeling on the floor surrounded by four pairs of legs. He looked up into the leering face of Angel Addison. Next to him a mean-faced man was holding a blood soaked rag to his nose.
‘Now that just weren’t friendly,’ Addison sneered.
‘Go to hell, Addison!’ Garland muttered. He didn’t want to let Addison and his henchmen see how hurt he was, but he couldn’t avoid a groan escaping from him.
‘Is that any way to talk to an old partner?’ Addison said.
‘You were never no partner of mine.’
‘That’s not the way I remember it. Time was you were proud to ride with the Yuma gang.’ Garland did not reply. His stomach was hurting and he felt sick.
‘I think you owe Cord an apology,’ Addison said. The injured man held the kerchief away from his face. His nose was split and badly mashed.
‘Go to hell!’ Garland repeated.
Before he had an inkling that it was about to happen, Cord’s boot slammed into his jaw. He fell to one side, spitting blood and teeth, as the heel of Cord’s boot came down between his shoulders. Cord was about to deliver more punishment when Addison held out his arm to stop him.
‘That’ll do for now,’ he said. ‘I think he’s got the message. Besides, Clovis is goin’ to want him still in one piece.’ He looked down at the writhing figure of Garland. ‘Take that as a warning,’ he said. ‘We’re gonna be takin’ a ride. I’d advise you not to try anythin’ like that again.’
At a nod from Addison, the other two desperadoes bent down, seized Garland, and hauled him to his feet. Barely conscious of what was happening to him, Garland was led through another sparsely furnished room and then out of the building.
A freshening wind blowing down from the mountains came like a douse of water, reviving Garland sufficiently for him to be able to take some interest in his surroundings. He was in a part of the hills he did not recognize. It certainly wasn’t the settlement Addison liked to call Addisonville. During his time with the Yuma gang, Garland had spent time in various outlaw fastnesses, but he was sure that this was not one of them.
Another of the outlaws was standing with six horses. Ignoring Garland’s pain and discomfort, the two outlaws who had dragged him to his feet proceeded to haul him unceremoniously on to the back of one horse. The others mounted and they set off, one of them leading Garland’s horse while the others closed around him. The movement of the horse was agony to Garland in his damaged condition, and as they rode he began to retch. The others took no notice. Addison’s flippant mood seemed to have deserted him. Once he had been sick Garland gradually began to feel a little better. He tried to take cognizance of his surroundings and the route they were following. He observed his captors more carefully.
‘Where are we goin’?’ he said.
There was no response from the people on either side of him. He leaned forward and shouted to Addison, repeating his question, but with the same result. As time passed and he felt better, he began once again to look for an opportunity to escape.
Following the decision he had made the previous evening, Hollis Kitchenbrand rode into Chaparral Bend. As he passed beneath the gallows he observed that it was completed. The townsfolk didn’t seem to be wasting any time. On this occasion he did not leave the roan behind but carried on till he reached the saloon, where he dismounted and tied it to the hitch-rack. He wasn’t bothered whether or not anyone recognized him because he had a feeling that if someone did, it might in fact serve his purposes. It might act as some sort of catalyst.
He stepped up on the boardwalk and brushed his way through the batwing doors. Although it was still early, a number of people were sitting around the tables and a small group of men had gathered at the bar. They wore guns slung low. Kitchenbrand recalled the marshal telling him that guns were not allowed in town. One of the men carried his arm in a sling.
Kitchenbrand’s thoughts flashed back to the sniper who had bushwhacked him at Virginy’s wrecked house. It wasn’t these indications that told him the men belonged to the Yuma boys. Something about the way they stood and their grim faces in the bar mirror was sufficient to indicate that they were no ordinary cowboys. The man with the sling glanced up as he approached the bar. It seemed to Kitchenbrand that the recognition was mutual.
‘What’s it to be?’ the bartender said. He seemed nervous. Kitchenbrand placed his boot heel on the brass rail.
‘Bourbon.’
The bartender splashed the liquor into a glass and was about to move away when Kitchenbrand put a hand on his arm.
‘Leave the bottle,’ he said. He turned to the man with his arm in a sling. ‘Maybe you and your friends would care to join me?’
The man glanced at his two companions. ‘We got a drink,’ one of them said.
‘Sure.’ Kitchenbrand tossed back the glass and poured another. Behind him, reflected in the mirror, he saw another couple of men enter the saloon. They were carrying guns too. Some of the people at the tables were looking anxiously around and one man near the batwings got to his feet and made a quick exit.
‘I just figured you boys might need to build up a little courage,’ Kitchenbrand remarked. The man who had spoken stepped away from the bar and faced him.
‘What do you mean by that?’ he said.
Kitchenbrand took another drink. The bourbon was strong and burned its way down his throat. He knew how much he could take before it might begin to affect him, and he figured the Yuma boys had been drinking for some time before he entered the saloon. He turned sideways to look at his interlocutor.
&
nbsp; ‘Well, I figure it takes some courage for you boys to face up to a woman,’ he replied. ‘I figure you’re gonna need somethin’ to stiffen you up the next time you decide to tar and feather an old lady.’
The man’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. ‘Why, you—’ he began.
His hand dropped to his holster but Kitchenbrand’s cross-draw was too quick for him. Before his gun was in his hand, Kitchenbrand’s bullet tore into his chest and sent him crashing against the bar. As the second owlhoot went for his gun, Kitchenbrand spun and fired again. The man staggered back as two slugs smashed into him and then he dropped to the sawdust like a felled log.
At the same instant a shot rang out from the back of the saloon. If Kitchenbrand hadn’t moved, the bullet would have caught him full on. As it was it went whistling just past him, shattering the bar mirror. Kitchenbrand flung himself sideways and dropped to the floor as more slugs went ricocheting around the room. He was looking for the two men who had come through the batwing doors but he couldn’t see them for gunsmoke and the haze of tobacco which hung over the room like a shroud.
A bullet thudded into the floor next to him and he had just realized that the next one would probably find its mark when the batwings flew open and someone burst into the room, opening fire as he did so.
A voice screamed. Kitchenbrand saw one of the owlhoots stagger back. He looked to the other side of the room where the fourth gunman was bent low in a corner, pumping lead. He raised his gun and fired at the same time as the newcomer; both bullets found their target. The man fell forward, firing one more slug harmlessly into the floor, and then lay still.
Silence suddenly fell. The whole incident had taken only a matter of seconds but it seemed to Kitchenbrand that a long time had passed. He became aware that the man with his arm in a sling was crouched under the bar and making a strange whimpering sound. He looked towards the batwings; only then did he recognize the newcomer as Marshal Purdom. The marshal stepped forward as Kitchenbrand got back to his feet.
Six-Gun Nemesis Page 6