The Loner 2
Page 5
Belle smiled brightly, standing very close now. Two men came and wished her goodnight. She answered with friendly smiles and then moved even closer to Blake’s side.
Looking intently at him, her interest completely frank, she said, “It gets quieter from now on, which is a blessing. You did say you were staying, Blake, didn’t you?”
Blake shrugged. Belle’s fresh perfume was very pleasant after the range smells, and her well-formed body was soft against his hard frame. Belle’s face told the story of a woman who had known many places, many friendships, and perhaps more than her fair share of disappointments. Her mouth was rather small and the lines on each side suggested she could stop smiling whenever it suited her, which he guessed would be often in a place like this.
The crowd began to thin out. Durant saw Laslo Callinan drinking at the other end of the counter, ignoring the talk of those packed about him. Then Callinan went out on his own, walking quietly. Hap was already cleaning the counter and collecting glasses. The bar-girls, looking slightly disheveled after all the manhandling, were gathered at the bar, having last drinks with men they’d chosen for the night. Their choice of companions struck Blake Durant as a surprising mixture—two cowhands, a tall, well-dressed businessman, a paunchy man in coveralls, a young man who seemed embarrassed over the whole thing, and a thin weed of a man who looked as impatient as a dog on heat.
“... so I just kind of stayed on,” Belle was saying. “There isn’t much trouble here. The men get out of hand at times, naturally, but mostly I can persuade them to air their differences outside. When they don’t, Sheriff Dowd is never too far away and he takes no nonsense from any of them.”
Blake listened while he watched Hap finish his cleaning chores. Blake was aware of the bar-girls glancing his way now and then, but none of them approached, probably because Belle was making it clear that Blake was her business.
“Where are you staying, Blake?” she asked.
“Haven’t bothered to arrange that,” he told her. “Saw a rooming-house down the street on my way in. Looked suitable.”
“It is,” Belle conceded. “John Marsden’s place. Run good, with a healthy table and no bugs. But for tonight, why don’t you stay here? I sometimes have guests stay over—on invitation.”
Blake sipped his drink and gave her no immediate answer. Two of the girls and their escorts went out through the batwings, then the batwings opened again and a man’s bulky frame filled them. Blake saw a troubled look spread across Belle’s face. He turned and saw Sully Benjamin, backed by a taller man in black. Blake watched the second man sweep the room with a careful look before he edged Benjamin aside and made his way to Hap who was washing glasses in a tub behind the counter. Benjamin hesitated a moment and after rubbing a hand across his drawn features, walked towards the man in black. Belle whispered, “Wait here, Blake. Don’t go yet.”
Blake let her take one step before he pushed out a hand, blocking her way.
“I think it’s my business,” he said.
Belle stopped dead in her tracks, lifted her worried gaze from his arm across her bosom to his face. Blake Durant stood warily at her side, his easy-going manner completely gone. In the back of his eyes devils of concentration were asserting themselves. He ignored her look and eased her further back.
Belle remained silent.
Sully Benjamin planted his feet wide, hands swinging at his sides, eyes sparked with bitterness. Then Blake’s attention swung to the girls and he saw the red-haired girl in their midst. They were looking anxiously Sully Benjamin’s way.
Then Belle said, “Girls, call it a night. Come on now.” The noise of their hurried exit did not distract Blake’s attention from Benjamin and his companion. The back door slammed and the footsteps on the stairway ceased. Belle came into Blake’s view, her expression severe.
“What’s the trouble, Sully?” she asked. “You know the rules. The saloon’s closed.”
Benjamin jerked a hand at Blake. “This jasper, Belle, killed Will Pearl.”
Hap tossed his bar rag away and came down the back of the counter quickly. Blake saw Hap’s face distort with worry as he ducked under the counter flap and hurried to where Belle stood. Blake shifted a step away from the counter’s edge and watched the tall man in black walk towards him. The man’s steady, even footsteps rang through the silence. He stopped just short of Blake and smirked as his black eyes ran over Blake’s tall body. Then he turned to the right, crossed to the wall near the card tables and leaned against it.
“I’ll stand for no trouble in here, Benjamin,” Belle’s voice rang out shrilly. “None from you either, Jud Slater.”
Blake saw a wider, more scornful smile cross the newcomer’s face. He ran the name through his head. Jud Slater. He had never heard of him, but Slater’s posture, smirking arrogance, and practiced casualness put their stamp on him: gunslinger.
Blake said, coolly, “I’ll handle it, Belle.”
Benjamin scowled at him and spat onto the floor, then his right hand rose and clamped on his gunbelt buckle.
But Belle shifted to where Blake could see her and Hap alongside. Her voice was sharp. “Benjamin, go on home!”
Blake saw Slater making a cigarette, eyes shining with amusement. Slater’s black eyes settled on Blake although he spoke to the saloon woman, “Belle, Sully’s made his call. Nothin’ you nor anybody else can do about it. Durant killed his trail friend, so you ain’t goin’ to stand in the way of Sully, are you?”
“I don’t care about that, Slater,” Belle snapped. “I’ll not have my place turned into a—”
“Sully, you’re wastin’ my time and your own,” Slater cut over her voice. “Take him if you still mean to.”
Blake saw Benjamin’s scowl become uglier. “I mean to, damn you!”
“Then get on with it.” Blake watched both of them now, Benjamin wetting his lips, Slater eyeing him above cupped hands which shielded a flame. Belle backed away, Hap moving with her. As she went Blake Durant got a quick glimpse of her face, saw her concern for him deepen. He couldn’t believe that she felt Benjamin represented a threat to him. So he decided that Slater was the man to worry about. He returned his attention to Benjamin, dismissing Slater for the moment, since the tall gun hand seemed to have drawn out of the argument and had left Benjamin to make the play.
Benjamin braced himself and growled, “I’m goin’ to beat the stuffin’ outa you, Durant. Goin’ to break you apart.”
He came on, lumbering forward like an overgrown bear, his chest rising under the intake of a deep breath. As Blake waited for Benjamin, his gaze shifted to the stairway and he saw the bar-girls waiting there, their eyes fixed on him.
Then Sully Benjamin swung with a heavy grunt.
Blake side-stepped the first lunge, grabbed Benjamin by the shoulder and wheeled him away. Cursing, Sully Benjamin skidded to a halt. Slater scowled at him from behind a screen of cigarette smoke.
“Take him, damn you!” Slater snapped.
Blake saw Benjamin’s shoulders crowd his bull neck. Then the big cowhand turned, his face crimson with anger.
“You’re bucking your luck,” Blake told him calmly and stood tall, completely relaxed, hands at his sides. Benjamin gave out another grunt and waded in, mouth wet with saliva, hands swinging wildly. Blake dodged a second time, spun Benjamin about and tripped him up. Sully Benjamin let out a cry and slid across the sawdusted, kerosene-greased floor on his chest and stomach. Slater shifted as Benjamin came his way and slammed a boot onto Sully’s head, keeping him from smashing into the wall.
“Seems you’re a talker and little else, Sully,” Slater drawled.
Benjamin jolted his head up and swore. He worked from under Slater’s boot, shrugged sawdust from his clothes and wiped his hands on his grubby Levis. “You’ll see, Slater, damn you, you’ll see!”
Belle called out, “Benjamin, haven’t you made a fool enough of yourself yet? Get on home and let respectable folk get to bed.”
Benjamin was on hi
s feet again, cursing. He glared at Slater, then at Belle and Hap and finally he turned to confront Blake Durant again. Blake blew out a sigh as Benjamin charged again.
This time Benjamin managed to land a punch on the side of Blake’s head. Blake gave no indication that the blow hurt but his lips tightened and his shoulders squared as Benjamin launched another attack. Blake’s fists cracked into Benjamin’s face and stemmed the tide of his advance, then Blake punched him mercilessly with both hands. Benjamin finally reeled back under the punishment and stood away, rubbing a hand across his bleeding face. Then he let out a roar and charged again, all his weight behind a swinging right hand. Blake took the blow on his forearm and then he grasped Benjamin’s right wrist and twisted. Benjamin howled, pain distorting his bloated features.
Blake said, “You’re a damn fool, mister.”
Benjamin fell to his knees. Blake pushed him aside and stepped past him. But Benjamin, humiliation seething inside him, whipped back and grabbed at Blake’s legs. Blake felt himself going over Benjamin’s shoulders. He landed on his feet, spun about, grabbed Sully’s hair and dragged him erect. Then Blake hammered his right into Benjamin’s face. He felt the big man’s nose flatten and another howl came from Sully Benjamin and he crumpled. Blake swung to Jud Slater, as the tall man, face dark, shifted slowly away from the wall.
Slater said, “Crawl away, Benjamin, you ain’t up to this.”
Benjamin, bleeding from the nose and groaning in pain, struggled to his feet. He wiped the blood on his sleeve, took a few staggering steps and growled, “I ain’t crawlin’, Slater. I’m goin’ to kill him now.”
“Then get on with it.”
Blake moved back to the edge of the counter and rubbed the knuckles of his right hand on his Levis. He turned Belle’s way when he heard her say, “Hap, get the rifle.” The little barkeep was already on his way through the curtained doorway when Blake said:
“Don’t buy in, Belle.”
There was no reply from her but he saw her lips tighten with determination. Sully Benjamin had regained his breath and was circling about, hurt, but riled enough by Slater’s disgust to come again. He made a wide movement past Blake before he put his head down and charged. Blake met his lunge with a solid uppercut which sent Benjamin’s head jolting back and left him floundering, arms flailing. Blake moved into him, sick of the man’s stubbornness. He sank a blow into Benjamin’s over-fleshed stomach, doubling him over, then he smashed him back with a right hook which lifted Sully Benjamin inches from the floor before he collapsed in a heap.
Benjamin struggled up again. Hap returned, rifle in hand, and stood close to Belle. She took the gun from him and eased him away.
Hap hesitated, but when Slater straightened, hands curled at his sides, the barkeep called, “Keep out of it, Slater. Belle don’t want no trouble from you.”
Blake had seen the tall man’s hand curl. He also noted the viciousness in his black eyes.
Sully Benjamin stood with blood dripping from a gashed eye and a broken nose. His mouth hung slack, swollen. Blake had reduced him to a pitiful hulk. But he felt no sympathy for this bully who would have, given the chance, beaten the Gray boy a second time at the creek.
“Goin’ to kill you for this,” Benjamin croaked, and then he went into a crouch, his gun hand dipping. Blake heard Hap call out, “Belle!” He saw the little man throw himself against the wall. Blake lashed upwards with his boot and caught Benjamin on the wrist. The gun flew high and crashed into the wall. Blake shuffled to him and hammered a fist into his already battered face. Benjamin hit the floor, then crawled along the wall, deep groans coming from him. He reached the back doorway and clung to the chipped jamb.
Slater sent a contemptuous look Benjamin’s way and faced Blake Durant. “You’ve had your fun,” he said.
Blake sized him up, saw that both his hands were curled above his twin holsters. He saw bleak anger in the man’s black eyes and knew he faced a far more dangerous opponent.
Despite his concentration on Slater, Blake’s keen ears picked up the scrape of steel on the floor. He turned, saw Sully Benjamin coming up with his gun.
Blake Durant’s hand moved in a blur of movement, his gun coming out of his holster in one fluid action. The Peacemaker bucked in his fist and a cry came from Belle as Durant’s bullet slammed into Benjamin and carried him through the doorway—but not before Benjamin’s gun roared and his bullet nicked Blake’s ear.
The moment Sully Benjamin disappeared from sight, Blake Durant’s interest in him died. He saw shock rise in Belle’s face and whipped his body about. Slater’s Colts cleared leather and they thundered with Blake’s in a room splitting uproar. Blake felt the sharp burn of a bullet past his neck as Slater jerked upright, off balance, and bumped against one of the card tables, the guns falling from his hands. It seemed certain to Blake that Slater would go down, but somehow he stayed erect and clamped his right hand onto a bloodying patch high on his left arm. From his eyes blasted a hate that Blake Durant had seen in few other men.
Belle moved away from the wall and stopped beside Blake. Her look went curiously all over him and finally settled on his expressionless face. Blake watched only Slater, seeing the play of hate in the man’s pain-tortured features.
Then Belle said, “I expect that will settle the matter.”
Beyond Slater’s sagged body Blake saw the bar-girls crowded together—but a fierce look from Belle sent them scattering out of sight.
Slater said, “I’ll get you, Durant, sure.”
Blake held his look evenly, the tension slowly going out of him. “You want to finish it now, mister?” he invited.
Slater, clutching his shoulder, swore under his breath. But defiance showed in his eyes.
“There’ll be no more,” Belle said angrily. “Hap, fetch the sheriff and the doc. Slater, you called a wrong tune—so get on home.”
Jud Slater glared furiously at Belle before shooting a quick look at the doorway through which Sully Benjamin had gone. Then he pushed himself off the buckled table.
“Soon,” he told Blake Durant. “Real soon.”
With that he picked his guns up from the floor and holstered them. He drew in a ragged breath, turned on his heels, and, walking tall, went out onto the boardwalk. Belle turned and looked intently into Blake Durant’s face, her eyes gleaming with deep-seated admiration. Soon Slater’s footsteps died and the room was filled with a silence which still had throbs of tension pounding through it.
Belle said, “I better fix that ear for you, Blake. Come upstairs. I have everything I need there.” Her voice was husky with concern.
Blake fingered his bleeding ear, threw a glance at Benjamin’s boots showing in the rear doorway, then without argument let Belle lead the way.
At the top of the stairs, they turned down the passageway and Blake heard a door click closed. Belle moved quickly in front of Blake, opened a door and stepped aside to let him pass. She closed the door quietly behind them and stood there, her gaze warm on him, her bosom heaving. After a quick gasp of breath she hurried into a side room. Blake looked around. The room was neat and everything was carefully arranged, not a thing out of place. The big bed’s purple silk cover reminded him of the carpet of wild flowers which sprang up every springtime back home on the plains. From the dresser beside the bed, the strong scent of Belle’s perfume came tantalizingly.
Blake settled on the edge of one of the chairs. When Belle came back, he let her wash and tend his wound. That chore finished, she returned the basin and medicines to the other room and loosened the ribbon holding the top of her silken blouse. She gave him a smile and poured a drink from the small wall cabinet against the far wall. The glass she handed him was of fine crystal. Blake eyed her as she touched his neck and caressed his dust-stained skin. Her eyes gleamed warmly with invitation.
“I thought you’d get yourself killed,” she said. “Sully Benjamin is a stupid fool, but that Jud Slater is another matter. He meant what he said before he left.”
“Stay here, Blake. I told you we have spare rooms ... for special people.”
“I’m special?”
Belle came to him and slid her hands over his shoulders. She kissed him lightly on the lips, but lingered with her body against his chest, studying him for reaction. “I think you are, Blake, I really do. It’s not just tonight. It was earlier when I first saw you.”
“I’ve got to see to my horse,” Blake said.
Belle shook her head. “Hap will do that, Blake. We have stables out back. In the morning, when you’re rested, we’ll talk. The point is—and I want you to think about it—I can use a good man in my place.”
Blake let himself be led to a small room that was as clean and comfortable as Belle’s. He dropped onto the bed and began to pull off his boots. Weariness was swiftly taking hold of him.
“I hope you get to like us, Blake,” Belle said from the doorway. “Sleep well.”
Blake nodded and watched the door close. He felt no remorse at shooting Sully Benjamin. And he felt no concern about winging Jud Slater either. They’d asked for it. But it occurred to him that Crimson Falls was a violent place. Will Pearl and Benjamin were dead, and Slater was going home with a wound.
In addition there was Belle Hudson, a woman making no bones about her interest in him. He liked the woman, saw a lot of good in her. At most other times, he might have felt obliged to take care of her needs. But there was always that memory of the past, of another woman, of feelings that would never leave him.
Blake closed his eyes, blanked his mind and willed his body to relax. And finally sleep came ...
Six – The Law and Blake Durant
Blake Durant slept the sleep of the weary. When sunlight filtered through the window drapes onto his tanned face, he stirred, momentarily unsure of where he was. In the corner of the room was a basin of clean water with a towel hanging over the rail beneath it. There was a cake of fresh-scented soap near the basin, beside his own razor. Durant lay completely still for some time, letting his mind swing back to the disturbing events of the previous night. He lifted his hands and ran them through his hair. The pain which had been in his head the previous evening had gone.