The Loner 2

by Sheldon B. Cole

  Durant swung to the floor. His clothes had been brushed down and folded neatly. Quickly he washed, shaved and dressed. He was ready to leave the room when there was a faint knocking. Durant opened the door and looked into the face of the young redhead who had shown so much interest in him the night before.

  “You’re up,” she said. Then Durant watched the color rise in her face as she added, “Belle said to see that you got anything you wanted. There’s coffee downstairs in the kitchen or whisky if you prefer.”

  “Coffee will do fine.”

  “Then go straight down the stairs. Hap will show you the way from there and I’ll fix the room for you.”

  She slipped into the room past him and started to strip the bed. “I saw you kill that Sully Benjamin last night,” she said. “He had it coming, always looking for trouble and abusing people.”

  Durant wiped a finger across his brow and took hold of the door, but the young woman, plainly keen on talking now that she had him alone, asked:

  “Will you be staying, maybe working for Belle, Mr. Durant?”

  As Durant held her look he realized that he had not made up his mind about his future movements. “We’ll see,” he said.

  She brightened. “If you do, I think it will be fine. I’m Marie. I’m to see you get looked after, no matter what you want.”

  She was standing perfectly erect now, her blouse pulled tight across her firm bosom. Her face was too rouged but the youth shone from her eyes. Her lips were red, moist, and she turned a pink tongue across them.

  “That’s fine, Marie,” said Durant and went out.

  Marie listened to his firm footsteps along the corridor, her head tilted and a smile of satisfaction playing along the corners of her well-formed mouth. After a minute she began to hum to herself.

  Durant went downstairs to find Hap already working behind the counter, getting things ready for the day’s expected busy trade. He gave Durant a curt nod, saying:

  “Guess Marie’s already told you, eh? Benjamin didn’t make it.”

  “She mentioned it.”

  “I fetched the undertaker, Patterson, and he took his body away. I guess Tom Dowd will want to see you soon. Just arrived back from checking out some trouble near Gopher’s Hollow.”

  Durant asked for directions to the kitchen and Hap showed him the way. Belle was waiting for him. She gave him a warm look and poured coffee for him, then went suddenly quiet, gaze lowered, face flushed a little. Durant left her to her thoughts. The coffee was hot and strong. There was nobody else in the kitchen so they sat, making small talk. Then, his coffee finished, Blake rose, excused himself and crossed the room to the yard. Sundown was frisking with a glossy-coated piebald filly and paid him no more heed than a nicker of recognition. Durant leaned over the rail and watched the play of the two horses. He turned when footsteps sounded behind him and looked into the flat, expressionless face of a big man with a tin star on his chest.

  “Durant?” the man said.

  Blake Durant nodded.

  The lawman was silent for a few moments, then he said, “I’m Tom Dowd. I’ve already talked to Belle and Hap about last night. Seems Benjamin asked for all he got.”

  Durant liked the look of the lawman. Dowd had a way of talking straight into a man’s face with no uncertainty showing. His hands were steady and he had deep-set eyes and a solid chin.

  “Which ties up Sully Benjamin pretty well,” Dowd said. “The rest might not be so easy.”

  “What rest?” Durant asked.

  “Slater and Cowley.”

  “Slater knows where he stands with me,” Durant said.

  “I heard there was a threat made, Durant. I don’t like things hanging in the air, not in my town. Slater has never been the kind to let a slug in his arm stop him. When he gets well again, he won’t forget you.”

  “That’s his business,” Durant clipped. “He can make of it what he likes.”

  Dowd’s lips thinned. He pushed himself off the rail and smoothed his hands down the side of his Levis. His big gun looked lethal in its oiled holster.

  “It’s my business, too, Durant. Nobody’s holding anything against you on account of last night. Belle’s not one to tell lies or make up excuses for any man. You impressed her plenty and she’s damn hard to impress where strangers and drifters are concerned.”

  Blake straightened, working the cramp out of his shoulders. He felt completely rested yet restlessness gnawed at him.

  Dowd said flatly now, “Okay, I’ll put it plain. You killed Will Pearl, so I’m told, and now Sully Benjamin. To top that you put a slug in Jud Slater’s arm. So your tally is three of Gus Cowley’s men out of business and Cowley ain’t the kind of man to think kindly of anybody who does that to his outfit. Cowley’s set for his end-of-the-year round-up and he gets so keen to have things run smoothly for him that he stops his men coming to town for weekend drinks even. He ain’t goin’ to like it one bit, having you in town, after what you’ve done.”

  Durant wasn’t in the least worried. He said, “Sheriff, we’ve got nothing to talk about. I mind my own business and expect the same of other people. Now I’ll have a drink, pay my respects to Belle and then figure out what comes next—all on my own.”

  Dowd licked his lips and stood back. “You’re gonna stay in town and wait for trouble to come?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What the hell did you say then, mister? Hell, can’t you see the predicament I’m in? I’ve got law and order to uphold and I’m damned if I can see that being done with Slater and Cowley hollerin’ for your hide. Let’s get one thing straight, Durant. I don’t give a damn what kind of hellion drifts into town. If he puts me out, then he answers to me for it.”

  “That’s natural,” Durant said as he moved into the kitchen. Belle looked up sharply and watched Dowd stride angrily away. She smiled hesitantly at Blake while rising to her feet and smoothing her skirt over slim hips.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Sure, fine.”

  Her look brightened. “I’m glad. Tom Dowd is a fine man and good for the town. But he gets a little headstrong when things don’t go quite his way. What have you decided to do?”

  “I haven’t, Belle. I’m obliged for the room and coffee.”

  “You’re welcome, Blake, any time. By the way, I thought a great deal about you last night, in fact I couldn’t get to sleep for a long time thinking about you.”

  “I’m mighty flattered,” Durant said, but there was no promise in his voice.

  “Well, anyway, I expect you’ll look the town over a little and judge for yourself whether you’ll stay or not,” Belle said. “If you do stay, have lunch with me at noon. I promise not to pester you with another offer of a job. But it would be good having you about until you find what you really want.”

  Durant gave her a smile, a brief wave, and went out. He crossed to the bar and ordered a whisky from Hap, then he looked casually about the room, finding it much different than it had been last night, roomier certainly and a great deal quieter. Hap worked diligently for some time before he took up a position directly opposite Durant. Two early customers came in, one already drunk, the other standing so stiffly he seemed afraid to breathe. Hap served them, shaking his head in sympathy for both, then he asked Durant:

  “How come you run into the Cowley boys in the first place, Mr. Durant? On the way through?”

  Durant nodded noncommittally.

  Hap, showing no annoyance, went right on, “Hard bunch, near every one of them, but not as bad as them what used to come through here in the old days and tear the town apart. That was when the railroad was just finished. Murderous gangs rode through and they kilt faster than graves could be dug. We used to have a kind of hell here in town of a Saturday night. But then things simmered down like they always do when law and order comes. That was when men like Cowley came and sunk taproots and showed they meant to stay and didn’t want no nonsense. Cowley did a lot for the town in those
days and I guess lots of folk kinda close their eyes when some of his bunch go hellin’ it up now and again.”

  Durant finished his drink and asked for another which Hap promptly fetched for him. The barkeep talked on as if nobody had interrupted him. “Town needed men like Cowley in them days, but I don’t reckon they need them as much now. Cowley’s maybe too fixed in his ways and can’t change and maybe that just ain’t no good, for anybody.”

  Hap’s look backed up his talk; solid, steady, full of meaning. Durant watched him closely but when he made no reply to the barkeep, Hap went on his way, serving more customers who had just come in. One of them, the red-haired card player, gave Durant a quick nod and looked eagerly towards the vacant card tables. A hint of disappointment showed in his blue eyes but quickly went as friends crowded about him, talking a treat about the last night’s game and the red-haired young man’s success.

  After his second drink, Durant left the saloon and moved easily along the warped boardwalk. A slight breeze whipped up dust in the street. Already a lot of people were moving about; some of them cast guarded looks at Durant. He walked to the extreme end of town and looked into the foothills. Out there a widow would be stirring and a boy setting about his ranch chores. Durant realized with a faint smile that his thoughts had turned a great deal to the Gray woman and her troubles.

  He was still there, idling away the time, when two riders burst around the corner of the street and went on fast, their horses kicking up heavy dust. Durant recognized Arch Briller but he took more interest in the other rider, a raw-boned, surly featured man with a no-nonsense look about him. Durant made his way back down the street, guessing that this was Gus Cowley about whom he had heard so much and little of it good. But Cowley looked no meaner or more aggressive than the usual run of ranchers Blake Durant had known at home or had met during his drifting. The hard life, the continual battle against the elements, the never-ending annoyance of rustlers, trouble-makers and the like, brought to most of those ranchers’ faces hard lines of determination and stubbornness.

  Blake reached Center Street and saw the two of them on the boardwalk. Cowley glared at the law office, then he shouldered Briller out of his way and snapped:

  “I’m goin’ to the bank. Stay out of trouble.”

  Blake watched Briller hitch up both horses as Cowley walked across the street. Briller then gave the batwing doors of the saloon a long look before he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He approached the saloon cautiously, took a furtive look inside and, evidently finding it to his liking, went in.

  Durant drew up outside the saloon, saw Cowley enter the front door of the bank opposite and for the devilment of it, pushed the batwing doors open. Arch Briller already had beer froth on his fat lips. He was turned halfway to watch the street doorway and when he saw Durant enter, his glass dropped to the counter and shattered.

  Briller stood there as if nailed to the floor, his face white, his breath locked inside him. Durant went to Briller, conscious that Belle was watching him from the end passageway and that Hap, in his usual careful way, had given her a signal. Briller went to step past Blake. But Blake’s hand swung out, fastened on his shirt and pulled him back.

  “No need to hurry off,” Blake said.

  Briller spluttered something under his breath, wiped his mouth twice and, giving the red-headed man and his now-curious group a nervous glance, said nervously, “You ... you got no cause to crowd me, Durant. I ain’t harmed you none.”

  “That’s the truth,” Durant said, then he beckoned to Hap and ordered two drinks. Briller shook his head at Hap, but the barkeep brought a rye and a beer and placed them before Durant.

  Durant pushed the beer towards Briller and said, “Looks like you had a hard ride, mister. Drink?”

  Briller looked uncertainly at the glass, nodded grimly and then muttered, “Well, don’t mind if I do, Durant. Hell, no sense in us cutting at each other.”

  “No sense at all, Briller,” was the cool reply. Hap moved off, giving Belle a thoughtful look. Belle shrugged then headed for the stockroom. Blake drank slowly, swilling the rye in his mouth and looking for all the world like a cowhand settled in for a day’s casual drinking. But Briller remained stiff beside him and plainly eager to be gone.

  Briller made short work of his beer. Then, nodding to Durant he said, “Well, I got to be going. Mr. Cowley’s waiting for me.”

  “Cowley come to town often?” Durant asked. “Or is today special?”

  Briller stole a look down the counter as Laslo Callinan came in. The gambler was dressed nattily in a town suit and had a cigar protruding from his thin-lipped mouth. He gave Durant a look, then a nod, and crossed to the card tables where he proceeded to tear the seal off a fresh pack of cards. The red-haired young man straightened at the counter, grinned at his friends and walked to the table where he pulled out a chair and took a roll of money from his pocket. Durant saw Callinan lift his eyebrows into an arch of feigned surprise, then push the cards towards Red for cutting. The redhead’s friends quickly caught up their beers and left the counter empty for Briller and Blake Durant, who turned now and looked calmly at Briller.

  “Seems you’re worried about something,” Durant said quietly.

  “No, no, Durant ... I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you feel the loss of Benjamin.”

  Briller gulped uneasily and shook his head. “Nope, Sully weren’t no great friend of mine.” Suddenly he straightened, a faint flicker of courage showing in his eyes. “Look here, Durant, what do you want with me? I ain’t ever done you no harm. I didn’t even hit the Gray kid and I didn’t come to town after you like Benjamin and Slater. For mine, I don’t want nothin’ to do with you, ever.”

  “Why come to town today?” Durant asked.

  “Mr. Cowley came to see the banker about the Gray mortgage. He—” Briller’s mouth clamped shut.

  “Go on,” Blake said.

  Briller shook his head. “It ain’t none of your business, Durant. Hell, leave me alone, will ya? Cowley’s mad enough at what’s happened now.”

  “Does he intend to push her and the boy off their property?” Durant asked.

  Briller swallowed. “Well, hell, Mr. Cowley’s got the option on that place and it’s a damn nuisance havin’ their fences stoppin’ his way across.”

  Blake Durant swirled the rye in his glass and gazed into its depth. Then he saw Briller stiffen and without looking he knew who had come in. His eyes lifted to Gus Cowley.

  Cowley stood just inside the batwings. His stare settled on Durant and quick respect rose in his eyes though his mouth twisted down sullenly at the corners. He came forward with firm, deliberate steps.

  “Durant?”

  “Yep, Cowley.”

  Cowley studied Durant for a long time before he waved Briller to get drinks. When the hired hand eagerly moved along the bar to Hap, Cowley said:

  “Well, it seems you’ve set yourself to make trouble for me, Durant. Killing two of my men, wounding another. How long do you think I’ll let that go on?”

  Durant shrugged. “You tell me, Cowley.”

  Gus Cowley read the insolence in Blake’s tone. His face tightened and his hooked nose curled a little more as his mouth pinched tight.

  “I’ll tell you how much longer,” Cowley said. “Not a minute. Even now I should smash you down like the cur you are.”

  A hard shine entered Blake’s eyes. “Your men stole a boy’s calves, Cowley. Is that how loose a rein you have on them?”

  “No damn fault of mine, Durant. I gave strict orders for the widow and her boy to be left alone. But I didn’t bargain for a drifter like you buying into my affairs, and I don’t mean for it to happen again. Take due warning, Durant. Get out of my territory if you know what’s good for you.”

  Cowley glared at Briller and snapped, “Damn you, Briller, bring the drinks down.”

  Briller came quickly, handing Cowley a beer which the big man pushed back along the counter. Cowley turned to Hap.

/>   “You! Get me a man’s drink. Double!”

  Hap poured the drink as Blake Durant looked calmly at Cowley. Hap brought the drink to Cowley who tossed it down and looked fiercely at Durant. Suddenly Cowley grabbed Briller and pushed him towards the batwing doors. Then he turned to Blake and grimaced. “Remember what I tell you now, Durant. Get out of this town, get out of my territory. If you don’t it’ll be more than Jud Slater who’ll come after you.”

  Durant let him go. He heard Cowley’s heavy footsteps outside and saw Hap frowning at him. He smiled to himself and finished his drink. As he left the saloon he saw Belle. Her face held a puzzled look. He went into the street and stood there a moment, watching Gus Cowley and Arch Briller stepping into their saddles. Cowley’s brutish look swung onto him again but without another word the rancher kicked his horse into a run.

  Blake Durant scratched a hand behind his neck and leaned against an overhang post watching the dust settle. He made himself a cigarette, ignoring Sheriff Dowd when the lawman passed him. As he smoked the cigarette, Blake’s face was thoughtful.

  Jessica Gray stood in the doorway and watched the sleeping form of her son. A smile touched at her soft mouth. He was trying so hard to be a man ... the man he thought his father had been. But no one knew better than Jessica that her husband had not been a strong man. A “loser”, Gus Cowley had called him. Maybe. But she had loved him and had stood by him every inch of the way.

  Blake Durant. There was a man. Jessica walked to the front door, opened it, looked out at the night. After a moment she went onto the porch. It was a beautiful night. The sky was full of stars. She looked for the Big Dipper, the Little Bear, the Small Dipper, found them all. Then a star fell, tracing a line halfway across the sky. When you saw a falling star and made a silent wish, then God was listening, and if your wish was unselfish enough, it would be granted.