by P McCormac
‘Pa. It were Al. I tried to stop him. He cut me and run. Jeez, my arm hurts.’
‘Which way he go?’ demanded one of the Mexicans.
‘I . . . I don’t know. He . . . he just slashed me an’ . . . I was trying to get away from him and then he grabbed a horse and went. I . . . I didn’t notice where he was headed.’
More and more bodies were spilling out of the back of the saloon. The hubbub of voices grew as the new arrivals tried to find out what was happening. Monday felt a soft touch on his arm. He turned to find Rachel beside him.
‘You poor boy, you’re bleeding. Let me tend to that.’
Monday followed the blonde gang leader inside. Behind them the Mexicans were rushing back through the saloon, vowing to find the murderer.
‘We’ll go to your room,’ Rachel said. ‘I’ll be better able to attend you away from this here racket.’
Once inside his room Rachel tended the cut. It was not deep and she was able to stem the bleeding and bind it with a towel. As she worked Monday noticed her blouse was undone. Through the opening he could see the soft swell of her breasts. She looked into his eyes and smiling gently, lifted his good hand and pushed it inside her blouse.
‘You’re a very fine looking young man, Monday,’ she murmured softly.
Monday was becoming aroused – his hand buried inside Rachel’s clothing. But still he was cautious.
‘What about Cornwell?’
Her capable hands were working on his belt and then his trousers were being manoeuvred down over his hips.
‘Cornwell?’ Her eyebrows arched gracefully. ‘He’s probably on his second bottle of rye by now.’
She pulled his head down and their lips met.
CHAPTER 9
It was well past midday when O’Leary led his men into California Crossing. The settlement was comparatively quiet after the excitement of the previous evening. As the riders pulled up outside the livery a rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
‘Glad we got shelter for the night,’ one rider commented. ‘I don’t like the look of that there sky.’
O’Leary grunted. He was still churning over the events that had driven him from Barren Drum. An old man with a grizzled beard and toothless gums appeared in the doorway.
‘Full house, gents. Never knowed so many visitors to the town. All I have is the corral out back. If you care, I’ll feed and water your mounts. Cost two bits a horse.’
He waited expectantly while the men dismounted.
‘Dangest thing,’ the old-timer remarked. ‘Got a fella in there bin beat up some. There’s this big mule watching over him. Won’t let me near the poor man.’
Only half listening, O’Leary looked up at the mention of a mule.
‘A mule you say. Joe, have a look. That new hand I sent on to Rachel rode a mule. Oh hell, might as well go myself.’
The inside of the barn was dim. At one end a large mule turned a baleful eye towards the men crowding through the doorway. A figure could be seen climbing painfully to his feet. He clung to the boards of the stalls and then hooking an arm around the mule’s neck, he shuffled forward.
‘Hard Hill? Is that you, Hard Hill?’
Man and mule moved slowly forward into the light. Cogan’s features were swollen to grotesque proportions. Though his face was clear of gore, dark bruises and cuts disfigured his skin. His shirt was caked with dried blood.
‘Damnation, Hard Hill, you bin sparring with that there doggone mule?’
‘Boss, I thought I heard your voice. Sorry about all this. Got myself in a mite of trouble.’
‘Who did this to you? Who did this?’
‘Your daughter’s man, Lovell – with some help from Rachel’s men.’
‘Rachel! Is she here? And her men beat you up! You’re crazy, man. I sent you with a message for Rachel. She wouldn’t dare abuse you.’
‘She did so. That son of a bitch, Lovell, came with a message from Gertrude. I was kicking his ass when Rachel and Cornwell rescued him and then did this to me.’
‘Hard Hill, I’ll pistol-whip you if you persist. Rachel would not treat one of my men so.’
Cogan shrugged and then winced as his bruised body protested at the sudden movement.
‘Why don’t you ask her, boss? She’s up at Gallagher’s place.’
O’Leary swung around.
‘You men tend the horses,’ he ordered. ‘Then follow me over to Gallagher’s.’
The gang boss stalked from the barn.
‘You gonna be all right, Hill?’ Joe enquired.
‘I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with a she-bear. Though I don’t think anything’s broke.’
‘Looks like someone cleaned you up pretty good – washed the blood off.’
‘Damnedest thing.’
Cogan turned and stared at the big grey beast standing docilely behind him.
‘I bin fighting this here mule for days now. It tried to bite and stomp me and then when I crawled in here to curl up and die, it must’ve licked my face clean and watched over me all night.’ Cogan shook his head. ‘Damnedest thing.’
Cornwell, Gallagher, Monday and Rachel were gathered at a table in earnest conversation when O’Leary entered the saloon. Only Gallagher, used to scrutinizing everyone that crossed his threshold, noticed him come in. The saloon owner jumped up, a welcoming smile on his face.
‘By Jupiter, if it ain’t like old times again,’ he enthused. ‘My good friend Keane O’Leary.’
Rachel raised a beckoning hand.
‘Pa, oh, Pa, it’s good to see you,’ she called.
Neither Cornwell nor Monday acknowledged the old man.
‘Rachel, it’s good to see you, too. But what are you doing here? I was on my way to Pearly Gates.’
‘What? What for? Weren’t you were staying with Gertrude?’
‘Rachel, my dear girl, you’ll hardly believe what I have to tell you. Your sister, Gertrude, she . . . she threw me out of Barren Drum. Can you believe it?’
‘Father, Father, you must have done something really bad to annoy her. She wouldn’t behave like that without good reason.’
‘What! What reason could she have for treating her own father like a . . . a. . . .’
Words failed him and he stared at his daughter with distraught face.
‘But I’ll come to you,’ he finally managed. ‘You won’t treat your old pa so.’
‘Come to me! Well, I . . . I wasn’t ready for you yet. You were to stay with Gertrude for a mite longer. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.’
O’Leary stared with a distraught face at his daughter.
‘Rachel, what are you saying – you’re not ready for me? I’m your father. We made a bargain. You got half of what I had. I was to spend my time between Gertrude and you.’
‘Yes, yes, dear Father, but you can see I am not at Pearly Gates to receive you right now. Just be a good man and return to Barren Drum. I’ll expect you later in the year. I’ll be ready for you then.’
For a moment O’Leary’s eyes took on a baffled look and then his face began to twitch. He opened his mouth a couple of times as if to speak but no sound came. Standing beside them, Gallagher stared from daughter to father. He intervened in what was an effort to rescue the old man from further embarrassment.
‘Let me get you a drink, Keane. What’ll it be – whiskey?’ Then remembering in time O’Leary’s latest taste for wine. ‘Got a new cask of wine come in the last shipment. Thought mebby you’d like to sample it.’
The saloon owner might have been talking to a deaf mute for all the notice O’Leary took of him.
‘Who beat my man?’ O’Leary ground out through clenched teeth. ‘I sent my man to you to inform you of my arrival. I just found him half beat to death out in the livery stable. Who did that?’
‘I did.’
The answer came not from Rachel but from her half-drunken husband. Rachel glanced at the surly face of Cornwell but said nothing.
‘You insolent
bastard, Cornwell, I’ll . . . I’ll thrash your hide . . . you. . . .’
There was the scraping of chair legs on the wooden floor. Cornwell stood upright, swaying slightly. His hand rested on the butt of his holstered gun.
‘What you gonna do, old man?’
The gunman emphasized the last two words with a hint of contempt in his tone. O’Leary’s mouth was working but no sound came. He stepped back a pace or two and at that moment his own men came in the door. Oblivious of the tension in the room they crowded around their leader.
‘What about a drink, boss?’
‘My tongue’s like a piece of dried out saddle leather.’
‘Sure is thirsty work, all this riding.’
‘Sure, sure,’ Gallagher said, and took O’Leary by the arm. ‘Drinks on the house. Come on, Monday. Let’s get these boys a drink. They’ve come a long way to slake their thirst .’
Unresisting, O’Leary was hustled to the bar surrounded by his jabbering men. The old man placed his hands on the bar and Gallagher noticed the tremor in them. As he served up the drinks, the saloon owner talked animatedly in an effort to distract his old friend.
Monday came over behind the bar to assist. Cornwell was sitting again but he was glowering across at O’Leary’s men. Gallagher was congratulating himself on defusing a dangerous situation when the doors opened again and in walked Gertrude.
‘Gertrude.’
‘Rachel.’
The sisters hugged each other. While they were thus engaged Gertrude’s husband, Alec, sauntered inside with his own crew of hard-eyed gunmen.
CHAPTER 10
O’Leary strode across the floor and stood before his daughters, white-faced, and with a visible tremble in his old frame.
‘How can you hug this she-devil after what she did to me?’ he railed.
The women faced their parent, holding hands and trying to look bemused.
‘Father, we’re sisters, for God’s sake,’ Rachel exclaimed. ‘What do you want I should do? Pull a Bowie?’
Gertrude shook her head in exaggerated bemusement and turned to her sister.
‘Rachel, what a time I’ve had with Pa and his drunken, ill-mannered oafs. When I tried to restrain them, Pa stormed off in a huff. He said he’d rather spend time with you.’
‘Yes, so he said,’ Rachel responded with a sympathetic look at her sibling. ‘But I’ve told him I’m not in a position to take him yet. Maybe in the summer. But you’re right about his men. They are a bunch of low-lifes.’ Rachel turned to her father. ‘When you come visiting, just come on your own. It’ll be much better all round. I’ll be able to take better care of you without that mob of hangers-on.’
‘What do you mean – on my own?’ The old man’s voice was almost a whisper. ‘You know I can’t venture out alone. There’s a price on my head. Have you both gone mad?’ He paused for a fraction as if struck by some disturbing thought. ‘Or is it me what’s mad?’
‘There, there now, Pa, that’s settled. You go back with Gertrude and leave those good-for-nothings to their own devices.’
‘I gave you all,’ O’Leary blurted out. ‘I gave you my best men and a rich territory to operate in. At one stroke I made you bandit queens. A crew of gunhands so feared that even the law steers clear of us.’ O’Leary seemed to shrink within himself. ‘My daughter, Catlin – banished from my life. And I am left with . . . she-wolves.’
Abruptly he raised his fists in the air.
‘What have I done?’ he roared in sudden fury.
The room quietened at the shout. Men watched in silence as O’Leary turned blazing eyes on the two women.
‘Bitches – bitches from hell! I curse you. May your wombs be barren! You should give birth only to serpents. Evil will come to those who have congress with such foul devils. I curse you. I curse you both. You are dragons in human form.’
So engrossed were the participants in the drama taking place on the saloon floor that when the roll of thunder crashed above the building, everyone jerked in surprise. It was as if the curses called down by the old man had reached a divine ear and had been answered with the clamour of a fiery storm. The lightning flared somewhere near and the crash of falling shingles echoed through the room.
O’Leary took several lurching steps backwards. His limbs jerked like a puppet being directed across a stage. With a sudden grunt he staggered momentarily and slowly collapsed. For a few moments he twitched on the floor.
Gallagher made a movement to go to the old man’s aid. He was stopped by Cornwell’s outstretched arm. Before Gallagher could object, O’Leary was clambering back on his feet. He looked around in bewilderment. A white froth had formed on his lips. There was a vacant look in his tired, old eyes. Turning, he staggered to the door and batted his way outside. The rain was just starting to deluge down.
‘Looks like a real humdinger of a storm brewing,’ Cornwell observed, as he walked to the door and stared out into the rain.
Gallagher hurried across the floor.
‘I’ll bring him back,’ he said. ‘God knows what he’ll do in that state.’
‘Stay where you are,’ Cornwell growled. ‘Ain’t no one going after that old fool. He brought this on himself. Let him go.’
‘But . . . the storm. . . .’ Gallagher began, but fell silent as the gunman turned a pair of cold eyes on him.
Another roll of thunder crashed overhead. Such was the crescendo of noise some in the room ducked. The torrential rain, assisted by gusts of wind, could be heard buffeting against the walls and windows.
‘I said leave him,’ Cornwell snarled. ‘The old gopher can find a hole to crawl into.’
Gallagher stared into Cornwell’s cold, bloodshot eyes. He heard the shuffle of feet behind him as Rachel’s men positioned themselves to support their boss.
‘I guess you’re right at that,’ Gallagher said at last and turned back into the room.
Marcus Cogan was standing in the livery staring out at the storm and wondering what was happening up at Gallagher’s. He feared for his old boss. He shifted painfully, trying to ease the discomfort of his bruised body. The thunder cracked as he discerned someone staggering through the rain. He gasped as he recognized the man.
‘Jeez. . .’
O’Leary blundered inside the livery, rainwater running from his clothing and hat.
‘My horse, where’s my damned saddle?’ he shouted. Seeing Cogan he pointed. ‘You there, help me.’
‘Mr O’Leary, you’ll have to wait till this storm blows over. You can’t go out in that.’
‘Damn you for an insolent dog. Will no one obey me?’
Cogan watched in consternation as O’Leary grabbed a saddle from a pile and turned back into the storm.
‘Damn them all,’ the old man muttered. ‘Damn them all to hell.’
‘O’Leary!’ Cogan yelled, but the figure disappeared in the downpour. ‘Oh, God,’ he groaned as he turned back inside. ‘I can’t let him go out there on his own.’
The mule was standing placidly regarding him.
‘Hecate, I’m sorry for all the harsh things I said about you. I need your help now. We gotta go after O’Leary. There’s no figuring what’ll happen to him out there all on his lonesome.’
Minutes later, a bemused Cogan led the mule, fully saddled, out into the storm. He had been able to saddle up his mount without the usual wrestling match. He headed in the direction of the corral. As he came around the corner of the livery, he was just in time to see O’Leary urging his mount towards the outskirts of the town.
Such was the force of the storm, in the brief time it took to walk the short distance to the corral Cogan felt that he had trudged through a river bottom. Water was running down his neck and inside his shirt. His boots were filling up as he splashed along.
‘Goddamn,’ he groaned as he painfully pulled himself into the saddle.
Hunched forward, he set the mule to following the rider as best he could.
‘Damn O’Leary and his damned daught
ers,’ he complained as water ran down his face and neck. ‘And damn Catlin for being so pigheaded and leaving the old man to the mercy of her sisters.’
CHAPTER 11
‘I don’t like the way things are shaping. I’ve sent a messenger to Catlin. The sisters are evil. They’ve only gone and offered a reward for the man who kills O’Leary.’
Monday stared in feigned consternation at his father.
‘Pa, surely not. He’s their pa for God’s sake. Even they couldn’t be so ornery.’
‘I’m telling you for sure, Monday.’ Gallagher’s face turned sour. ‘Look at Alward. Tries to kill his own pa, murders that Mex girl and attacks his brother.’
‘Pa, I don’t know. Maybe it was all a terrible mistake.’
‘Son, your ma was a whore but look how you turned out. I sure as hell can’t figure it. You’re the bastard, but my rightful son turns out a wrong ’un. Catlin was O’Leary’s favourite and yet he throws her out on her ear without as much as a horse blanket.’ Gallagher sighed deeply. ‘If I knew where O’Leary was headed I’d take a few supplies to him. The thought of my old friend out in this goddamn storm. . . .’
The saloon owner turned and peered out into the storm-ravaged night and missed the sudden glint in Monday’s eyes.
‘Pa, I overheard some of O’Leary’s men talking. They were to meet up at Mule Back Mine if anything happened to them. I guess it was some sort of backup plan or something.’
Gallagher turned back to his son.
‘You sure? Goddamn it, that old man out there. Ain’t nothing but a few tumbledown shacks.’ He stared at Monday for a few seconds. ‘Goddamn it, I got to try and help. He was a good friend to me in the past. Monday, throw a few supplies together. I’m gonna head on out there.’
‘Pa, you can’t go out in this. Let me go. I’m younger and fitter.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like your brother – thinking I’m past it, eh?’
‘Jeez, Pa, no. I just thought. . . I mean. . . .’
Gallagher gave his son a shove.
‘Get those supplies – food and liquor.’ As Monday turned away Gallagher called after him. ‘Remember, not a word to anyone. Those hellions are itching to kill someone and I guess they wouldn’t think twice about shooting me if they thought I was siding with old man O’Leary.’