The Dawn of Fury (17 page)

“Just you and me,” Nathan said.

But even as he spoke, the saloon's batwing doors were flung back and the eight McClendon riders entered, led by Morgan and Jethro. They trooped to the bar, sipping their drinks until their eyes became accustomed to the dimly lit interior of the saloon. Almost immediately they spotted Nathan at the poker table, and to a man, they cut loose with a joyous shout.

“Well, damn my eyes,” Jethro McClendon bawled, “If it ain't the yeller little varmint that has a dog to do his fightin'. What'n hell is he doin' in a man's game?”

“It looks a mite shorthanded,” Morgan said. “Why don't we set in and make it interestin'? Come on, Jethro. You too, Pete.”

Pete took a chair to Nathan's right, while Morgan and Jethro McClendon sat on the other side of the table.

“Dollar limit,” said the man in the town suit.

“Dollar, hell,” Jethro McClendon shouted. “I say we raise it to five. Anybody that ain't got the sand fer that, fold an' git out.”

Nobody moved. Nathan lost seven consecutive pots, the McClendon riders taking six of them.

“By God,” Morgan McClendon crowed, “that ain't bad, fer three
hombres
that's drunk as boiled owls. Where's yer dog, mister? Why don't you fold an' deal him in? He couldn't do no worse.”

Nathan waited for the laughter to subside. Then, his eyes as cold as blue ice, he spoke directly to Morgan McClendon.

“Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, McClendon? Let's up the limit to twenty dollars. Those of you who don't have the sand or the money, fold and get out.”

“I'm out,” said the man in the town suit.

“Me too,” Pete said.

“Stay, damn it,” Jethro growled. “I'll stake you.”

There was no more laughter, and the trio began to relax as they each won a pot. Then Nathan Stone took three pots in a row. The next hand, fifteen hundred dollars, lay on the table, and it was Nathan's turn to raise or fold. “I'll raise you five hundred dollars,” he said.

There was utter silence in the saloon. Finally Morgan McClendon spoke.

“I reckon this has gone far enough. Damn you, I'll match my hand agin anything you got.”

“Lay them down, then,” Nathan said.

Triumphantly, McClendon slapped down four aces. There were gasps and nervous laughter from his companions. McClendon was about to rake in the pot when Nathan Stone's cold voice stopped him.

“Hold it, McClendon. You haven't seen my hand.”

“You poor damn fool,” McClendon snarled, “they ain't no way in hell you can top four aces.”

“One way,” said Nathan, and he dropped five face-up cards. Four of them were jacks. The fifth was another ace, making it five aces in the deck.

Nathan Stone made no move until Morgan and Jethro McClendon had already cleared leather. He then drew his lefthand Colt and shot them both dead. On the heels of his shot there was a third. A Colt clattered to the floor and one of the McClendon bunch at the bar fell face down. Eulie stood with her back to the wall, the pistol cocked and steady in her hand. Cotton Blossom stood beside her, teeth bared.

“The rest of you McClendon riders stand pat,” Nathan said. “Bartender, send somebody for the sheriff.”

Sheriff Eb Dinkins arrived, and the grisly scene was an open book. The poker hands lay where they had fallen and spoke for themselves. So did the three bodies, for Nathan and Eulie still held their Colts cocked and ready.

Dinkins had but one question. “Who drew first?”

“The McClendons drew first, Sheriff,” said the bartender. “The stranger at the table nailed them, and his pard shot Tunstall, who was about to shoot the gamblin' man in the back.”

“Great God,” the sheriff groaned. Nathan and Eulie holstered their Colts.

“What do you aim to do, Sheriff?” one of the McClendon bunch asked.

“Just one thing I can do,” Dinkins said, and his next words were directed at Nathan Stone. “Mister, it's a clear case of self-defense, and I'm about to give you the best piece of advice you'll ever get. You and your pard get the hell out of here. Saddle up and ride. Tonight.”

“Why the hell should we?” Nathan asked. “It was more than a fair fight, and I'll argue that till hell freezes.”

“Then you'll be arguin' with Kirk McClendon,” said Sheriff Dinkins. “You just gunned down both his sons, and your amigo killed Dub Tunstall, old Mac's longtime friend and segundo. You was justified in what you done, but you just try explainin' that to McClendon. I'm just one man, and I can't guarantee you protection. Now get out of here.”

Without a word, Nathan and Eulie left the saloon, followed by Cotton Blossom. There was angry shouting behind them, as Sheriff Dinkins held the McClendon riders at bay. But he couldn't hold them for long.

“McClendon sounds like the kind that will throw the whole damn outfit on our trail, and maybe hire some extra guns,” Nathan said. “But I doubt they'll come after us before morning. Let's get back to our room and make some plans.”

But they never got that far. They met Roy Bean, bound for the Tumbleweed saloon, for there was nothing else on that dead-end street.

“I heard shootin',” said Bean. “Sounded like a Comanche attack.”

“We'd be better off if it had been,” Nathan said, and told Bean what had happened.

“God,” said Bean, “I reckon they built Texas around old McClendon, an' when he gits a mad on, he don't show no mercy.”

“Under the circumtsances,” Nathan replied, “I think we'd better forget our bullwhacking deal with you. Something tells me that anybody close to us will be buzzard bait in McClendon's eyes.”

“You sure as hell got that dead-center,” said Bean, “but I ain't givin' up two new drivers that easy. You got till mornin'. Get back to my place, take yer rolls an' bed down in the barn. It's still early. I'll mosey down to the wagon yard an' dicker fer them wagons, an' then hustle to the livery an' see about the teams. If I can nail all that down, I'll work the hell out of Delmano an' Renato tomorrow, an' we'll get that freight unloaded. Then we can slope out a day early on our way to Corpus Christi.”

“That's almighty generous of you,” Nathan said, “but it's unfair of us to bring that bunch down on you over something we did.”

“Nobody knows you rode in with me, 'cept Delmano an' Renato. McClendon damn near owns this town, an' he ain't goin' to expect you two to stay here. Now, do like I say, by God, an' lay low in my old barn. I know it rubs you the wrong way, but sometimes you just got to turn the cat around.”

“You're a persuasive man, Bean,” said Nathan. “We'll bed down with the horses until you're ready for that run to Corpus Christi.”

“I been in court a time er two,” Bean said, “an' I got me one of them law books. Back in Kaintuck, my daddy had ideas about me bein' a lawyer, but I just ain't that damn crooked. Mebbe when I can afford it, I'll buy me a stovepipe hat an' a swallow-tail coat an' be a judge.”

He turned and left the way he had come, and they could hear him laughing as he vanished in the darkness.

“Just forget what I said about not trusting him,” said Eulie. “Let's go back to that old barn.”

But there was an uproar and a clatter of hooves behind them as Sheriff Dinkins had allowed the McClendon riders to leave. Quickly Nathan and Eulie diverted onto a side street and sought the shadows. Nathan silenced Cotton Blossom as the riders thundered past, and before the dust had settled, Nathan and Eulie were on their way back to Roy Bean's dilapidated barn.

The night dragged on. Nathan and Eulie saw nobody until first light, when Bean, Delmano, and Renato began harnessing the teams to the freight wagons.

“Yer in luck,” said Bean. I got the wagons an' extry teams. Didn't have the money, but times is hard. I got the whole damn shebang on credit.”

“Bueno,” Nathan said. “You still aim to leave in the morning?”

“That's what I said,” Bean replied. “We'll unload this freight an' then bring the wagons back here. I'll have Delmano an' Renato hoof it to town, hitch up the other teams an' bring the other wagons here.”

“There's a chance somebody's going to wonder why you suddenly need more teams and two more wagons,” said Eulie.

“I reckon,” Bean agreed. “You got any better idee?” Bean returned to his wagon, mounted the box, and the trio of wagons set off for town to distribute the freight.

“Now I'm glad we didn't leave our horses at the livery in town,” Eulie said. “Now nobody will know how we got here or how we left.”

“I hope you're right,” Nathan said. “Once we're away from here, we'll be maybe ten days getting to Corpus Christi. We'll lay over maybe two days, and we'll be fourteen days getting back to San Antonio. That's not even a month, not near enough time to water down old man McClendon's hate.”

“So we'll spend all our time in San Antonio hiding here in the barn.”

“No,” said Nathan, “I refuse to do that. It destroys my reason for becoming part of Bean's outfit. It was that or continue haunting saloons, pretending to be a gambler, seeking the men I've sworn to kill.”

“I thought that was a smart move,” Eulie said. “Hiring on as a teamster would have allowed you to continue your manhunt without you having to gamble. Then last night, you threw all of that away on one damn poker game.”

“We were legally in the right,” Nathan said, more harshly than he had intended. “Damn it, this is a hard country. If you don't stand up for yourself, you get knocked down and walked on. There was no call for that bunch of drunks comin' down on us in that cafe. A man has his pride, Eulie. When he loses that, he ceases to be a man.”

“So that accounts for the poker game. That foolish scuffle in the cafe tainted your pride and you had to strike back. Now you have McClendons outfit ready to shoot you on sight if you show up here again. I can understand your need to avenge your family by stalking the killers. What I simply don't understand is where last night's shootout fits into your plans. When we come back to San Antonio, if we do, we'll face a ready-made lynch mob. That, or McClendon's bunch will ambush us and gun us down.”

“Well, by God, I didn't ask you to team up with me,” Nathan snarled. “Go on back to Waco and hide out in your old daddy's damn mansion.”

That hurt her, and Nathan was immediately sorry for his outburst. But she was game, giving as good as she got. She didn't cry or scream at him. Instead, her voice became deadly soft, and she nailed him with an irrefutable truth.

“Nathan, we left three dead men in that saloon last night. If I hadn't been watching your back, one of those men would have been you.”