A Colt for the Kid (5 page)

‘That one was through your hat, Donovan. Keep yourself and your men quiet or the next will be through your head.’

There was no doubt in Donovan’s mind that this usually quiet and well-behaved girl meant what she said and from the way she held the rifle ready to throw to her shoulder, of her capability to carry out the threat. He glanced at his four gunmen. They all seemed to be only too anxious to chance a quick draw and, of course, if they did so they would win out, but there was almost a certainty that he himself would be a dead man. He said, in a rasping voice:

‘All right, Lucy. Your play for the time being. What do you want me to do?’

‘Just tell Stone and those four other men to drop their guns and ride off.’

Donovan shrugged. ‘As I said, it’s your play now, but don’t expect to be treated like a woman when we meet again. All right, boys, drop your guns. The girl has things running her way for the moment.’

Not until the five guns were on the ground did Lucy move her finger from the trigger of the rifle, then her stance relaxed and the muzzle of the gun lowered. Hennesey immediately drew his own gun and moved to Donovan.

‘I’ll take yours as well, Mr Donovan.’

Donovan handed him the weapon with a sneer. ‘Never thought you’d be hiding behind a woman’s skirts, Hennesey.’

‘I’ve got to take that for the time being, but maybe next time we meet you won’t be backed by four gunhands.’

Hennesey turned to one side and watched Stone and his four companions mount and ride away. Lucy had put down her rifle and, with Sam, was kneeling beside Johnnie. Hennesey saw the strain that was in the girl’s face and wondered whether it came from Johnnie’s condition or from the action she had just taken against the rancher. He wanted to go and see how the boy was, but thought it better to keep
an eye on Donovan in case he should get up to some trickery. Lucy, getting to her feet and running to the house and coming back with a tin basin of water and clean rags, told Hennesey that Johnnie was in a pretty bad way. He would have been walked to the house otherwise. His eyes went again to Donovan, now sitting his mount as if nothing unusual had happened and it came to him that an easy way out of this trouble would be to put a bullet through the man. It would be good sense even if it wasn’t an honourable thing to do. Donovan, once released from here would be a man bent on vengeance. Sam and Lucy could not expect the week’s grace he had originally given them. What they could expect was a night attack with guns and fire. The sort of thing Donovan had done to homesteaders and small ranchers in the past. For himself, Hennesey knew that he would have to walk the streets of the town with great care both by day and night.

Lucy got to her feet. ‘Ed,’ she called. ‘You and Sam will have to carry him to a bed, we’ve done all we can here.’

Hennesey looked at Donovan. ‘You can be on your way.’

‘What about the guns?’

‘Send someone over for them. I had thought of keeping you here for an hour and letting you take them with you, but it seems Johnnie needs a lot of help and I can’t waste time watching you.’

Donovan started to turn his mount. ‘You’re adding up a big score, Hennesey. No one else has ever sent me away without my gun. In fact no one ever took it from me before.’

Hennesey shrugged. ‘You can’t do any more than kill me and that’s a chance any marshal has to take.’

He moved to where Johnnie was lying and felt a little sick at what he saw. Although Lucy had cleaned the blood from the boy’s face it still looked a terrible mess. Hennesey, who had seen something like it before, guessed that Johnnie had
taken at least a dozen kicks about the head. He knelt down along with Stevens and together they carried Johnnie into the house and up to a bedroom. Stripped of his clothing, bruises showed on almost every part of his body. Hennesey, who was something of a doctor, checked that no bones were broken, but his efforts to rouse Johnnie to consciousness were unavailing.

‘Have to leave him to sleep it off and just hope that his skull isn’t cracked. Though we can’t do anything if it is.’

‘He’s going to be pretty sick and sore for some time,’ Sam said as they left the room. ‘He took a tidy hammering in the few seconds those skunks were at him.’ He looked at Lucy. ‘Luce, that was smart and brave of you to go and grab that rifle. I reckon Johnnie would have been in a worse shape than he is now if it hadn’t been for you.’

‘Smart, perhaps, but not brave. My stomach was churning over when I lifted the rifle. But I saw that no one’s eyes were on me and it seemed a good chance.’

Hennesey said, as they reached the living-room, ‘I guess I don’t have to warn you two to expect trouble after this. Maybe tonight. In fact I can only think of one thing that will stop it happening tonight.’

‘That’s more than I can do,’ Sam said moodily. ‘As I see it, Donovan has only got to ride back to town and collect some more men and guns and be back here in a couple of hours. Seems to me it’s a matter of how long we can hold them off.’

‘It is that way, Sam, except for one thing – vanity. What do you think those four gunhawks are going to feel like if they ride into town with empty holsters, Donovan himself for that matter. Can you see them standing for all the laughs when they try to borrow guns? You can take it from me they’d sooner be shot up.’

‘I think you’ve got a point there, Ed,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s more likely that Donovan will take his gunmen back home where
they can get fresh weapons without attracting notice. That would mean they couldn’t get back here before dawn.’

Sam shrugged. ‘Well, allowing that you two are right. What have we got? Breathing space for one night. Maybe two. The thing is, Donovan is certain to come back and there’ll be blood in his eyes when he does. Luce, I’m for getting out of here in the morning. We can take Johnnie with us in a rig.’

‘Sam, you’re trying to walk out because of me. Well, you can forget the idea. I’d stay even if I were here alone. No, the thing is to get Johnnie to some safe place. Then we can do our fighting without knowing we’ve a sick man on our hands. If Ed could have a rig sent from town in the morning we could ship Johnnie to some place of safety.’

‘I wasn’t figuring on going back to town,’ Hennesey said. ‘I had an idea of staying and fighting it out with you folks. I know that maybe doesn’t sound like me. I mean bucking against Donovan.’ His face went brick red. ‘There have been times when I ought to have done it before but I reckon you knew how I was fixed when Donovan had a hold on the Silver Dollar and Luke Carter. One wrong move from me and I’d have been out of my job. Anyway, I’ve been thinking. I’m more or less certain that Donovan won’t come back tonight and from what I’ve heard of him he won’t stage an attack in the daytime, so I reckoned if I went back to town I might rustle up some help.’

‘Well, I think it’s a large sized might, Ed, but it’s worth a try. In any case there’s nothing to lose by it,’ Sam said.

Hennesey moved towards the door. ‘I’ll get riding then, it’ll be about dark when I reach town and I guess Donovan’s boys’ll be whooping it up as usual.’

Hennesey turned his mount into the livery as soon as he reached town. Under the thin sliver of moon that was just rising the hitch rails appeared to be already packed with horses, and men were gathered in twos and threes, laughing, arguing and quarrelling noisily. The front of Carlen’s store was crowded as was the lamp-lit space before Joe’s eating bar, but it was on and around the veranda of the Silver Dollar under the spluttering kerosene flares that the pack of men was thickest. The marshal shouldered a good humoured way into the place and found it filled almost to bursting. Belle was moving in the throng of men, exchanging crude witticisms and stopping occasionally to chat briefly. Carter was at the top end of the room in conversation with Judge Bohun, and Hennesey made his way towards them.

‘Hello, Ed. What’ll you have to drink?’ Bohun said between puffs at his cigar.

‘Nothing at the moment, Judge. I want a serious talk with you and Luke. Has Donovan been back again, Luke?’

Carter shook his head. ‘No, neither has Stone and the other four.’

Hennesey heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness for that. Judge, you’re the man of law around here. I mean you can quote from the book. What can I do if one rancher
threatens to clear another off the range?’

Bohun gave him a shifty look. ‘Not much, Ed. The law don’t take much account of threats. You could maybe have him before a court and the court might fine him fifty dollars or something like that.’

‘Has Donovan come out in the open and threatened Sam and Lucy Stevens?’ Carter asked.

‘He has.’ Hennesey sketched in briefly the happenings at the Stevens’ ranch.

At his conclusion, Carter looked worried, Bohun apprehensive.

‘We ought to give them some help,’ Hennesey went on. ‘I’ve been wondering if we couldn’t raise a guard. Say
half-a-dozen
men.’

‘A guard!’ Bohun said. ‘You mean fight back at Donovan? He can raise fifty men, more if he wants to.’

‘I’m guessing that he won’t send more than a dozen men for his first attack,’ Hennesey argued. ‘If they could be beaten off, Donovan won’t find it so easy to raise a bunch for another attempt.’

‘I get your point, Ed,’ Luke said. ‘You’re figuring that out of all Donovan’s men he can only really count on a dozen or so to engage in dirty work.’

‘That’s about it, Luke. Donovan has plenty of men who will follow if the going’s not too tough. Fellers who would regard a little ranch warfare as part of the job, but I’m reckoning on them quitting as soon as they realize they’re running against the law.’

‘Well, I’ll willingly stand the cost of half-a-dozen guards, Ed, but do you think you can raise that many?’

‘For pay, yes. After all, they won’t have to take a very big risk. I’d post them in the barns and places like that and armed with rifles they should be able to break up an attack. Particularly as Donovan’s bunch won’t be counting on much
resistance. The thing is, I want the Judge to back the idea publicly. What do you say, Judge? If you made it known that you were backing me and would send for State help if necessary, don’t you reckon that would hold Donovan back?’

Bohun puffed hard on his cigar and a trickle of perspiration ran down his fat face. He said, in an agitated voice:

‘Ed, I think that the most dad-burned fool notion I ever heard of. Suppose your guards, if you can get any, do beat off Donovan’s men and then I send for State help. How long do you think it’d be before any came? A month, maybe two, maybe never. Do you think Donovan will take a licking and then sit around and wait for another one? No, sir. If Donovan gets licked by men from this town, he’s going to turn around and take this whole place to pieces. Nope, my business and yours, Ed, is to keep the peace in this town and we won’t do it by promoting a range war. Ranchers have always fought over the ranges. I say, let them get on with it.’

Bohun’s hand went towards his glass but Belle, who had come up unnoticed by the three men, snatched it from the table and threw the contents on the floor.

‘Not another drop of liquor do you have in this house, Judge Bohun, not even if you want to pay for it, which you never do. I’ve been standing here for two or three minutes and I heard most of Ed and Luke said. Also I heard that darned speech of yours. Pah! Call yourself a judge. It’s my opinion that back East you were some small-time lawyer who couldn’t make a go of it, so like a lot more you come West and call yourself a judge and pick up whatever free living comes your way. If Ed’s looking for guards to help out those Stevenses, he can count on me for one.’

Bohun’s face went an angry red and the trickle of perspiration increased to a copious sweat. ‘Belle, you’ve no call to talk in that insulting manner when a man is doing his
best to give advice on a difficult matter.’

Hennesey, who saw that direct opposition from the judge might make a tough job even more difficult, said tactfully: ‘The judge was only giving his opinion, Belle, even if he did give it a little forcefully. Maybe you’ll let me buy him another drink.’

Her first flash of anger over, Belle sensed that Hennesey did not wish to antagonise the judge. She said, in a quieter voice:

‘OK, Judge. Sorry I blew off. I’ll get you another drink, but you other guys, no more scheming until I get back. In case you fellers have forgotten it, I’ve a sizeable stake in this town.’

She was back in a few seconds with Bohun’s whiskey. ‘Now,’ she said to Hennesey. ‘Set me up to date with the whole business.’

Hennesey told her and as he finished a sparkle appeared in Belle’s green eyes. ‘That Callum kid must be made of the right stuff. Feller, I’d sure have given plenty to have seen him busting into Donovan. That big hombre must have had the surprise of his life. I reckon, except for me sassin’ him a few times, no one’s ever said even boo to him. Luke, we ought to do something for young Callum, have him stay here for a start until he gets over that mauling.’

Carter gave a faint smile. ‘Don’t you think Donovan has enough stacked up against you already?’ He turned to Hennesey. ‘Ed, I’ve an idea where I might get men willing to stand guard on the Stevens’ place. There are three families I know of who—’

Belle cut him off sharply with: ‘Just a minute, Ed. Judge, after what you’ve just said are you behind this move of Luke’s or against it?’

Bohun looked flustered. ‘Well, like I said, Belle. I’m not in favour of starting a range war, but of course I wouldn’t make any move against Hennesey or yourselves.’ He got to his feet.
‘Perhaps on the whole it would be better if I took my drink at the counter.’

Belle nodded. ‘It might save some hard feelings, Judge.’

Bohun edged his way to the crowded bar and leaned against it in acute discomfort both from the press of noisy men around him and from the feelings working within him. Belle’s jibe that he was not really a judge had struck deeper than she, or either of the two men, guessed. The fact was, he had been a judge until the ending of the civil war and, being a Southerner, had been hounded from his post by victorious Northerners. It had happened a good many years ago but the sore was still there, and Belle had probed deeply into it. Now, a hatred for her was working up within him. He finished the whiskey, and after some shouting of his order, got the sweating bartender to pour him another. The fact that he, a judge, had had to shout against rough range hands for his drink inflamed his anger, and he began to include Carter and Hennesey in his hatred. By the time he had emptied the whiskey glass again he was full of self pity and indignation. These three with their schemes would direct Donovan’s anger against the whole town and, in particular, himself, as the foremost citizen. He saw himself being hounded out of the place by Donovan’s riders, and grew almost maudlin in his self pity.

Then he saw a way that might prevent this thing from happening to him. He had guessed where Carter intended to get his guards, from the moment he had said: ‘There are three families.’ Yes, he was certain that he had guessed that rightly. Carter meant the Sanders, Regans and Thomases. All small rangers that Donovan, by one means or another had forced off the land, and all resettled near Leastown about sixty miles away. If a message could be got to Donovan warning him that a strong defence could be expected at the Stevens’ place, then the rancher would be able to arrange his
plans accordingly. How to get the message to Donovan was the difficulty. No use scribbling a note and giving it to one of the riders. By the time they were ready to leave town they would all be too drunk to be trusted as letter carriers. Besides, he did not want to openly involve himself in the matter.

Bohun thought for a long time, then heaved his bulk away from the bar and pushed a way out to the street. He went to his own neat, frame house and penned a short note that would tell Donovan what Hennesey intended to do. He left the note unsigned and sealed it into a stout envelope which he addressed in a large hand to Donovan. Bohun’s next move was to the store and, as he expected, the MD rig was outside and partly loaded with stores. Bohun passed into the store and found Carlen busy at piling packages on to the counter. The storekeeper looked up.

‘Hello, Judge. Something I can get for you?’

‘Just some cigars, Carlen. I’m almost clean out of them. All this stuff for Donovan?’ Bohun indicated the packages on the counter.

Carlen shot a stream of tobacco juice on to the floor. ‘Sure is and a mighty fine time I’m having loading the stuff. Donovan’s freight driver is supposed to give me a hand with the job but I guess he’s got himself drunk. Here’s your cigars.’

‘Thanks.’ Bohun picked up his own package, then lifted one of half-a-dozen boxes of cigars piled in front of him. ‘I see Donovan smokes a mighty fine cigar. Genuine West Indian, eh?’

‘Sure thing, Judge. About the best there is. Come as high as ten cents a piece. Well, I’d best get some of this stuff on to the rig or I’ll be here all night.’

Bohun picked up the six boxes. ‘I’ll take these for you.’ He laughed. ‘Not much weight but it’ll save you one trip.’

Between leaving the counter and getting to the rig, Bohun slipped the envelope from his pocket and put it underneath the topmost cigar box. He set the little pile of boxes carefully on the rig then with another jocular remark to Carlen waddled towards the Silver Dollar. It would be as well, he thought, if he could keep an eye on Hennesey, Carter and Belle in case there were any other moves afoot. In the saloon the noise was now almost deafening. Belle had seated herself at the tinny and out of tune piano and was pounding at a melody whilst half a dozen punchers grouped around her bellowed the song at full pitch. Hennesey was moving about the room, pausing now and again to watch the progress of one or the other of the poker games, but of Luke Carter there was no sign. Bohun got himself a drink then Hennesey saw him and moved towards him.

The marshal squeezed alongside the judge. ‘Been out taking some fresh air?’

‘Just along to the store for some cigars. I had a bit of a yarn with Carlen.’

‘Should have thought he was too busy to spend time yarning.’

‘Well, he was kind of. He was loading Donovan’s stores. I didn’t stay more than a minute or so.’

Bohun raised his glass to his lips and as he did so, the marshal’s keen glance fastened on a small spot of ink on one of his fingers. The ink spot had not been there when Bohun had been seated with himself, Belle and Carter. Hennesey felt certain of that. He called for a mug of beer, got it after some delay and drank slowly. The judge, he noticed, was sweating a little. It could have been due to the heat of the place. On the other hand he had noticed that Bohun did perspire if he was nervous about anything. Deliberately not making any small talk, Hennesey let his mind dwell on the spot of ink and Bohun’s visit to the store for cigars. The
cigars were a fact all right. He could see the bulging shape of the package in Bohun’s pocket.

Hennesey put his glass down. Something was wrong. The judge usually got his cigars at the bar, a few at a time and more often than not as a gift. Why had he gone to the store, where he would have to take a package of at least twenty-five, and pay cash for them?

Bohun was finding the silence difficult. ‘Let’s buy another drink and take it to one of the tables, Ed. My feet are killing me.’

‘No thanks, Judge. I ought to be getting around the street for a while in case some of the boys are up to their usual tricks. Though up to now they’ve been orderly enough.’

Hennesey left the counter, pushed a way to the batwings and went straight towards the store. Carlen was busy serving three or four noisy punchers, and Hennesey, after a friendly caution to them, stepped outside to wait. The MD rig he saw was piled high with stores and wanted only the team and a driver. Carlen came out a few seconds later, shepherding the punchers in front of him. He mopped perspiration from his brow.

‘Well, that’s about it. Another month end nearly over. I wonder where the heck Donovan’s driver got to? The pesky feller should have been here to help me load.’

‘You have to do it all yourself, then?’

‘Every darn package, barrel and sack. No, darn it, I forgot.’ He laughed hoarsely. ‘The judge carried out half-
a-dozen
boxes of cigars. Said it’d save me a trip. Bought some himself, too. I reckon he must have come into money.’

‘Must have. I bet he put the cigars right where you wanted to plant a barrel of flour.’

‘Nope, he acted real sensible. Put ’em right under the seat where they wouldn’t get damaged.’

Hennesey stepped to the front of the rig and felt under
the seat. ‘So he did. First time I’ve ever known him to do a heavy chore like that.’

Carlen laughed so much that he choked on his chew of tobacco and for a few seconds was bent head down, spitting and spluttering. Hennesey used the brief space of time to lift the cigar boxes into the light that came from the store lamps. The envelope dropped to the ground and with a quick move he scooped it up and stuffed it in his pocket. He was at Carlen’s side and thumping him vigorously on the back without the storekeeper having noticed anything unusual about his movements. A few minutes later when Carlen was restored to his usual self, Hennesey walked towards his own office. In the light of the lamp he dragged the crumpled envelope from his pocket, read the address then hesitated before slitting the envelope open. Finally, he decided that his action was justified under the circumstances and he rapidly tore the envelope open and read the contents.