the Drift Fence (1992) (32 page)

As he whipped up his gun Molly stepped in front of him, to shield Jim.

"You'll have to kill me first," she declared, resolutely. Certain it was, however, that she knew he would not shoot her.

Jocelyn was in no hurry now. He had a gun in his hand. He would torture as well as slay.

Seth Haverly, however, took him as seriously menacing Molly. "My Gawd, Jocelyn--put thet down!"

"Nope. I feel too much at home with my gun stickin' out in front."

Molly seemed to Jim to be at the end of her rope. Slowly Jocelyn backed her toward where Jim sat, his head against the post, still holding the broken whisky bottle.

"Oh, Seth Haverly, but you're a rotten coward!" cried Molly. "You leave it for a girl to face this devil."

"But, Molly, devil or not, I'm in a deal with him," expostulated Seth, as if stung. "An' it ain't no call fer me to risk my hide."

"Deal, yes--a dirtier deal than you know. He's--"

"Molly Dunn," cut in Jocelyn, "shet your jaw--or it'll be too late."

"Too late! Why, you poison-tongued snake--do you think I'd believe you again?... You can kill me an' Jim--an' this yellow bunch, for all I care.

But, by God! I'm givin' you away."

Jocelyn made a fierce reach for her. But he did not quite lose himself in the passion of the moment. He had to stand clear, to be free, to watch the Haverlys. So he dared not close in with her.

"I'm warnin' you onct more."

Molly must have kept her burning eyes on him, at bay, while she denounced him to the Cibeque.

"Seth, he cut the drift fence, even while he was workin' on the Diamond.

An' after. He aimed to get you an' Slinger blamed for that. He's double-crossed you as he did Jim. He means to take all the ransom money... To murder Jim an' lay that on to you... Oh, I know. I see through him--now... He got me up heah--by swearin' he'd save Jim's life if--if I'd give in to him. I agreed. An' then he kept at me--all night long--an' once I had--to fight him. But I--I wouldn't give in--"

"You pop-eyed cat," yelled Jocelyn, stridently. "Who wants you to give in? I'll rope you like I would a mean hawse!"

Suddenly the gun banged. Jim felt the bottle blown off his head. Molly screamed.

"Right under your arm, Molly," said Jocelyn. "How's thet fer shootin'?"

And he began to step from one side to the other, the gun extended about even with his hip.

Molly did not back away from his formidable advance. She blocked his every move, interposing her body between the gun and Jim. Then like a cat she pounced upon Jocelyn's hand, shoving it out of line. Bang! The bullet scattered dust and gravel over Jim. Both her hands and then her teeth were locked on Jocelyn's wrist.

"Leggo!" he yelled, lustily, westling to get free. But he could not free himself. With left hand he lifted Molly by her hair. He swung her clear of the ground, her weight nothing to his powerful arms. But he could not shake her grip. Blood began to drip from his wrist.

"Bite, ----!" he cursed. And, lifting her, he tried to get the gun on Jim. But as he pulled the trigger she swung desperately, spoiling his aim. The gun roared and a bullet tore splinters out of the post beside Jim's ear, and whirred away into the forest. The recoil of the heavy Colt loosened Molly's teeth, but not her hands. She screeched like a wild creature. Before Jocelyn could take advantage of this, she again buried her teeth in his wrist. He swung her aside, but she alighted on her feet.

He fought her to and fro, until they entered the cabin. Haverly and his men were caught in a trap. Like rats they ran to dodge behind the stall, yet to peep out at this extraordinary encounter.

Jocelyn took another snap shot at Jim, narrowly missing him. The shock of this explosion, right at her ear, appeared to weaken Molly, for she let go with her teeth, and her weight sagged on Jocelyn's arm. He shifted his left hand from her hair to her neck, where his long fingers shut like a vice. Yet on the instant he could not get loose. His malignant cry, however, hoarse and exulted, attested to the victory he saw. Molly could no longer move. He was lifting her, and the gun.

Jim's distended sight caught a shadow of something passing him. He could not move, even his eyes, but out of the tail of his right he saw a buckskin-clad figure that had appeared as if by magic.

"Hey, cowpuncher!" rang out the voice of Slinger Dunn.

Jocelyn jerked up his head and a fleeting consternation showed on his convulsed face. He let go of Molly's neck. And as her hands slipped loose she slid down.

Like a whipcord Jocelyn's gun leaped. But as it leaped Dunn's crashed.

Jocelyn appeared to be arrested. Then, shot through the heart, he staggered forward, with an awful look that set blankly, and plunged step by halting step, to fall clear outside of the cabin.

Chapter
TWENTY-ONE

A heavy breath escaped Slinger Dunn as he removed his gaze from the twitching Jocelyn to Molly and then to the bound Traft. His battered face was scarcely recognizable, but his eyes were wide open.

"'Pears like I didn't get heah none too soon," he drawled. "Slinger!

Just--in time!" gasped Jim.

Molly sat up dazedly, her hair disordered, blood on her chin and nerveless hands. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she moaned.

"Air you hurted. Molly?" asked Dunn.

She stared wildly. "Arch!" she cried, in recognition. "Is--he daid?"

"Wal, I reckon, onless he wears a big watch in his breast pocket."

Molly got shakily to her feet and ran unevenly to Jim, where she fell, still game, still proof against the collapse that had taken her strength.

"Cut--this--rope," she whispered, huskily, plucking at Jim's bonds.

Dunn, with a wary glance at the back of the cabin, dropped a knife in front of Molly.

"Jim--did he--hit you?" she asked, fearfully, as she freed his hands.

"No. But I sure know what a bullet sounds like... Let me have the knife... Molly!"

"I cain't heah you," she said. "His gun deafened me."

Jim severed the knotted rope and got up, lifting Molly with him, which action assured her that he was uninjured.

"Oh--thank heaven!" she cried, sinking against him. "Jim! Jim! I thought--he'd hit you."

Jim held her tight, and probably no other moment of his life could ever equal that one. Following it he became aware of Dunn sheathing his gun.

"Come out heah!" he called, and his voice was piercing enough to penetrate more than a board stall.

Seth Haverly came out first, livid of face, and Matty followed, visibly shaken, but unafraid.

"Slinger, he had us buffaloed," explained Seth.

"Who else back there?"

Sam slouched out, then Hart Merriwell, and lastly Fletch. "Where's Boyd?"

"Jocelyn sent him with a letter to old Jim Traft."

"Ahuh." Then Dunn turned to his sister.

"Molly, you was shore fightin' thet skunk, an' I needn't ask if he got the best of you. But Seth, heah, an' Sam--did they stand around an' let thet hombre bulldog you?"

The moment was critical and Molly reacted to it as might have been expected from Slinger Dunn's sister. If Jim had had the impulse to check her, he suppressed it.

"They shore did," she cried, lifting her pale face from Jim's arm. "An' what is wuss, Arch, they believed him... Believed I'd got thick with him an' come up heah, a willin' hussy... I agreed to give in to Jocelyn--if he saved Jim's life. No use lyin'--I'd have done it... But I never trusted him. I lay back there in the stall--listenin' an' watchin'. An' pretty soon I knew his game... Arch, I was 'most crazy. I prayed--an' I peeped out through a chink between the logs. An' I saw you comin' under the pines!... Oh! then I had to brace an' keep Jocelyn off his guard--till you--could get heah."

"Wal, I reckon it's aboot good fer Jim Traft thet you air Slinger Dunn's sister," drawled Dunn.

"Good and fine and wonderful," declared Jim, fervently. "I'm thanking God she is Molly Dunn of the Cibeque!"

"Thet squares you with me, Jim Trait," replied Slinger, gruffly. "Take her away from the cabin... An' wash the blood offen her."

Jim was not loath to lead Molly away, half supporting her in his arm. He lifted her across the brook, surprised and pleased to find she was a pretty heavy little chunk. He led her on, across the open grassy flat and up the first gentle slope to a pine tree, where a fragrant brown matt, and shade, invited a stop.

"This is far enough," he said, letting her down. "I'll run--back--"

"Don't leave me. There'll be a fight," she cried, clinging to him. "But only to the brook to wet my scarf... You're all bloody."

"Then hurry."

Jim made short work of the trip down to the brook, and while soaking his silken scarf he heard a loud angry protest of Haverly in the cabin, and the cold ring of Slinger's voice. He ran back to Molly. She was spitting like an angry cat.

"I bit him, Jim, I bit him! I'd have chewed him to pieces... But now it's over I'm sick--sick with the taste an' smell an' sight of his blood."

And as she spat out she did look sick.

"Never mind, darling. Your biting saved my life... My God! how wonderful you were--how I love you!" And he kissed her passionately, stained lips and chin and hands.

Evidently this treatment effectually checked her nausea.

"Oh--Jim--somebody'll see," she whispered.

"Who cares?--But let me scrub you good," laughed Jim, and he did scrub her mouth inside and outside, and nearly washed the skin off her chin, and likewise the little strong brown hands.

"There goes one. Slinger's let him off. Look!" said Molly.

"That's Matty," replied Jim, recognizing the tall member of Seth's outfit. He was in a hurry, and snatching up a saddle and bridle he strode off up the park, looking back over his shoulder. "He didn't seem a bad sort of fellow."

"I'm glad. Slinger is hell when he's--like you saw him... Oh, but wasn't Hack Jocelyn the dastardliest--"

"Sweetheart, don't think of him," entreated Jim.

"But he's daid! An' Slinger killed him--all on my account."

"No, not all. Some on mine, and some on his own... Honey, did you really mean you'd accepted me--when you threw it up to Jocelyn--that we were engaged?"

"Yes, Jim--but, man alive, you cain't make love to me now! I tell you Slinger will kill Seth Haverly, an' like as not Sam, too."

"I'm afraid, but I hope not," declared Jim. "All the same, Molly Dunn, while they're palavering I can make love to you."

"Funny tenderfoot from Missourie you are--I guess not," she declared.

"You're almost another Curly Prentiss."

"Thanks. You couldn't pay me a compliment that'd please me more."

"Jim, I'd have liked Curly if he hadn't the cowboys' weakness," said Molly, thoughtfully.

"And what's that?"

"Bein' too gay with a girl--the very first thing--all same like an Easterner I met once."

"Ha! Ha!--Where'd you meet him. Molly?"

"I reckon it was in Flag... Oh--Jim--" She was surrendering to his arm, when suddenly she started up. "Look! Another leavin'."

"That's the cook. Fletch, they called him," said Jim, watching the man, who lost no time in imitating Matty's example in making tracks from the cabin, burdened by his saddle.

"Hart Merriwell left, besides Seth an' Sam. Slinger will let Hart go. Now you watch."

Presently Jim espied Merriwell come out, in no great hurry, and instead of striding away he slipped round to the back of the cabin and peered through a chink.

"Well, there must be something up," declared Jim, anxiously. "Listen!

That's Slinger shoutin'," rejoined Molly.

Jim did distinguish Slinger's voice, with its high ringing note, but only the sound carried so far. What meaning he could attach to the harangue he had to supply himself. But as Slinger kept on it was no great task to imagine the storm of violent backwoods profanity with which he was berating the brothers who had betrayed him.

"Just like I heahed once at a dance," said Molly, with a sigh. "There!"

She jerked spasmodically at the crack of a gun, and clapping her hands over her ears she sagged against Jim.

"Gosh!--That didn't sound like Slinger's gun!" ejaculated Jim, and all his being seemed suspended upon his hearing. Bang! "That was Slinger's," he went on, huskily, tightening an arm round Molly. Shots followed, three or four, so swiftly as to be hardly separated. Then again came the heavy boom and a volley of lighter reports. There was a pause that might have been a suspension of hostilities. Jim dared believe it was over. Then followed loud reports, a heavy one--more of the sharp rifle shots --another heavy, and quickly the boom. Silence! Smoke drifted out of the cabin, showing blue against the green pines. Hart Merriwell, who had evidently run off, appeared coming slowly back, halting, waiting, then approaching again. But there were no more shots.

"All--daid!" whispered Molly, lifting her head. She must have been able to hear the shots even with her ears covered.