Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (21 page)

I burned them! Burned every last one of them! You've lost everything! And I sol
d
my claim on her place, so you'll lose that, too! And now I'm going to kill you, gu
n
or no gun."

His right hand had dangled behind him, and now it swung up, clutching a gun. Rock'
s
pistol leaped in his hand, and the room thundered with a shot. Rorick's face twiste
d
and he stepped back, shocked with realization. Awareness of death hit him, and hi
s
eyes widened, then his mouth dropped open and he crumpled to the floor.

Rock caught Leosa in his arms and hurried her to the door.

Doc Spencer met them when they reached the top of the office stairs. "He's in ba
d
shape, but he'll pull through," he told them. "Few minutes ago he was conscious
,
an' he said to tell you the papers are stuck behind his volume of Horace. Those h
e
left for Rorick to find were fakes he fixed up. He figured on somethin' like this."

They walked back down the steps to the silent street. Almost unconsciously, the
y
were holding hands.

"Rock," Leosa asked gently, "what will you do now? You own the town? I heard yo
u
did."

"I'm goin' to give all these folks who shape up right deeds to their property. I
t
ain't worth so much, anyway. The Longhorn I'll sell.".

"What about you?" she asked, looking up at him
.

"Me? . . . why, I was thinkin' of ranchin' an' watchin' hay crops grow out on th
e
Barren place ... with my wife."

*

Chapter
I

Lona was afraid of him. She was afraid of Frank Mailer, the man whom she was to marry.

She realized that it was not size alone that made her afraid of him, but somethin
g
else, something she saw in his blue, slightly glassy eyes, and the harshness of hi
s
thin-lipped mouth.

He was big, the biggest man she had ever seen, and she knew his contempt for smalle
r
men, men of lesser strength and lesser will. He was five inches over six feet an
d
weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. Whenever he stood near her, the sheer mas
s
of him frightened her and the way he looked at her made her uneasy.

Her father looked up at him as he came in. "Did you get that north herd moved befor
e
the rain set in?"

"Yeah." Mailer did not look up, helping himself to two huge slabs of beef, a moun
d
of mashed potatoes, and liberal helpings of everything else. He commenced his suppe
r
by slapping butter on a thick slice of homemade brea
d
and taking an enormous bite, then holding the rest of it in his left hand, he bega
n
to shovel food into his mouth with his right.

Between bites he looked up at Poke Markham. "I saw the Black Rider."

"On our range?"

"Uh-huh. Just like they were sayin' in town, he was ridin' the high country, alone.

Over toward Chimney Rock."

"Did you get close to him? See what he looks like?"

"Not a chance. Just caught a glimpse of him over against the rocks, and then he wa
s
gone, like a shadow. That horse of his is fast." Mailer looked up and Lona was puzzle
d
by the slyness in his eyes as he looked at her father. "You know what the Mexica
n
boys say? That he's the ghost of a murdered man?"

The comment angered Markham. "That's foolishness! He's real enough, all right! Wha
t
I want to know is who he is and what he thinks he's doin'."

"Maybe the Mex boys are right. You ever see any tracks? I never did, an' nobody els
e
that I ever heard of. Nobody ever sees him unless it is almost dark or rainin', an'
t
hen never more than a glimpse."

"He's real enough!" Markham glared from under his shaggy brows, his craggy face se
t
in angry lines. "Some outlaw on the dodge, that's who he is, hangin' out in the hig
h
peaks so he won't be seen. Who's he ever bothered?"

Mailer shrugged. "That's the point. He ain't bothered anybody yet, but maybe he want
s
one certain man." Mailer looked up at Poke, in his malicious way. "Maybe he's th
e
ghost of a murdered man, like they say, an' maybe he's tryin' to lure his murdere
r
back into the hills."

"That's nonsense!" Markham repeated irritably. "You'll have Lona scared out of he
r
wits, ridin' all over like she does."

Frank Mailer looked at her, his eyes meeting hers, then running down over her breast.

He always made her uncomfortable. How had she ever agreed to marry him? She kne
w
that when he drank he became fiercely belligerent. Nobody wanted to cross him whe
n
he was drinking. Only one man ever had tried to stop him when he was like that. Ber
t
Hayek had tried it, and Bert had died for his pains.

His fighting had wrecked several of the saloons in town. All, in fact, except fo
r
the Fandango. Was it true, what they said? That Frank was interested in that Spanis
h
woman who ran the place? Nita Howard was her name. Lona Markham had seen her once
,
a tall young woman with a voluptuous figure and beautiful eyes. She had thought he
r
one of the most beautiful women she had
ever
seen. Lena's intended was
often seen visiting with a beaut
iful woman who ran a saloon and gambling hall and
Lona found she didn't care ... not at all.'

When supper was over Lona left hurriedly. More and more she was avoiding Frank. Sh
e
did not like to have him near her, did not want to talk to him. He frightened her
,
but he puzzled her, too. For more and more he seemed to be exerting authority her
e
on the Blue Hill ranch, and
m
ore and more her father was fading into the background. People said that Poke Markha
m
was afraid of no man, but
o
f late she'd begun to wonder, for several times he had allowed Mailer to overrul
e
him.

She crossed the patio through a light spatter of rain to her own quarters in th
e
far wing of the rambling old
h
ouse. Once there, she hung up her coat and crossed to the window, looking off ove
r
the magnificent sweep of land that carried her eyes away to the distant wall of th
e
moun
t
ains in the southwest. It was over there the strange rider had been seen.

Suddenly, as if in response to her thoughts, a horsema
n
materialized from the rain. He was out there, no more than a hundred yards from th
e
back of the house, and scarcely visible through the now driving rain. As she looke
d
she saw him draw up, and sitting tall in the saddle, he surveyed the ranch. Unde
r
his black flat-brimmed hat nothing of his face was visible and at that distance sh
e
could not make out his features. He was only a tall horseman, sitting in the rain
,
staring at the ranch house.

Why she did it, she never knew, but suddenly she caught up her coat, and runnin
g
out into the rain, she lifted her hand.

For a moment they stared at each other and then suddenly the horse started to walk
,
but as he moved, the Black Rider raised a hand and waved!

Then he was gone. One instant he was there, and then he had vanished like a puf
f
of smoke... but he had waved to her! Recalling the stories, she knew it was somethin
g
that had never happened before. She returned to her room, her heart pounding wit
h
excitement. She must tell Gordon about that. He would be as surprised as she was.

In fact, she paused, staring out at the knoll where the Rider had stopped, Gordo
n
Flynn was the only one who seemed to care much what she thought or how she felt.

Gordon, and of course, Dave Betts, the broken-down cowhand who was their cook.

Mailer dropped into a big chair made of cowhide. He rolled a smoke and looked acros
s
at Markham. The old man was nodding a little, and it made Frank smile. Mark-ham
,
if that's what he wanted to be called, had changed. He had aged.

To think how they all had feared him! All but he himself. All but Frank Mailer. Markha
m
had been boss her
e
for a long time, and to be the boss of men like Kane Geslin and Sam Starr was something
,
you had to admit. Moreover, he had kept them safe, kept them away from the law, an
d
if he had taken his share for all that, at least he'd held up his end of the bargain.

He was getting older now, and he had relinquished more and more of the hard wor
k
to Mailer. Frank was tired of the work without the big rewards; he was ambitious.

Sure, they had a good thing going, but if one knew the trails, there were easy way
s
out to the towns and ranches, and a man could do a good job on a few banks, alon
g
about roundup time. It beat working for money, and this ranch was as good as his
,
anyway, when he married Lona.

Looking over at the old man, he began to think of that. Why wait for it? He coul
d
shoot the old man right now and take over. Still, it would be better to marry th
e
girl first, but he was not ready for that. Not yet. He wanted to move in on tha
t
Spanish woman at the Fandango, first.

There was that bodyguard of hers to be taken care of. He did not like the big, dar
k
man who wore two guns and always sat near her door, faithful as a watchdog. Yet i
t
would pay to be careful. Webb Case had been a fairly handy man with a gun, and h
e
had tried to push this Brigo into a gunfight, planning to kill him. From all accounts
,
it had taken mightily little of a push, but Webb's plans backfired and he took
a
couple of slugs and got planted out on Boot Hill.

He began to think of that bank at the Crossing. Four ... no, five men. Geslin an
d
Starr, of course, among them. Geslin was a lean, wiry man with a pale, hatchet fac
e
and white eyes. There was no doubt that he ranked among the fastest gunmen of the
m
all, with Wes Hardin, Clay Allison, Bill Hickok, or Kilkenny.

The bank would keep the boys happy, for howeve
r
much Poke Markham was satisfied with the ranch, his boys were not. Poke made money
,
but most of the men at Blue Hill ranch were not punchers. They were wanted, one plac
e
or another, and when they'd tired of cooling their heels, they'd leave. Frank Maile
r
wanted to take advantage of the situation before that happened. The bank should g
o
for eight or nine thousand, and they could make a nice split of that. Four men an
d
himself. That would be enough. Nobody would tackle a gang made up of Geslin, Starr
,
and himself, let alone the other two he would pick.

Thoughtfully, Frank Mailer considered Geslin. How would he stack up with Geslin?

Or Starr? He considered it a moment, then shrugged. It would never happen. They wer
e
his men, and they had accepted him as boss. He knew how to handle them, and he kne
w
there was a rivalry between Starr and Geslin. If necessary, he could play them of
f
against one another. As for Poke, he intended to kill Markham himself when the tim
e
came.

He heaved himself out of his chair and stretched, enjoying the feeling of his powerfu
l
muscles. He would ride into town and have a talk with that Howard woman at the Fandango.