“Might as well make camp here,” Buck Halliday said. “Too much daylight left for us to get safely into town.”
Judith Prewett regarded him curiously. All during the long ride she had been caught up in a conflict between the sadness over her father’s death and her curiosity about this stranger. Halliday had kept his distance from her, asking no questions except about her ability to keep going on.
She had given little thought to Abe Gordon. He was a reliable man, despite that long-ago incident which she no longer held against him. In fact, she blamed herself as much as him for what had happened that night.
But this stranger—somehow she was attracted to him. She felt he’d built a wall around himself, yet he had offered to help her ... a woman he hardly knew.
All at once, she decided that she would never get a better opportunity than this to find out what motivated Buck Halliday. With so much at stake, it was important for her to know who she could trust and who she couldn’t.
Halliday was with his sorrel when she approached him and asked;
“Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into, Mr. Halliday?”
“If you mean takin’ on Jude Cowley, Red Dank, Len Wiley and the rest of them, yes, I know,” he said easily.
“But do you know what it’s all about? Are you sure who’s in the right?”
“Your father struck me as being a straight-shooter. I’ve seen men like him before. I’ve worked for them, liked them, respected them. If he was other than he appeared to me, then it’s a mistake I’ve made and I’ll probably live to regret it. Just like I’ve regretted other things in my life.”
Once again, Judith felt unable to reach him. There was no softness about this man, yet there was no real hardness, either.
“My father had a verbal agreement with our neighbor, Angus Hogan, allowing him to water our cattle at the Hogan waterhole anytime he wished. In return, my father, who knew the cattle business inside out, advised Mr. Hogan on the breed of cattle to buy, how many, where to erect his fences, things like that. Before he came here, Angus was a storekeeper and was ignorant about how to work the land. He was indebted to my father and he didn’t care who knew it. They became good friends and my father never had any reason to doubt that the water would always be at our disposal.”
Judith found Halliday’s stare settled attentively on her and she became a little uneasy. It seemed to her that he was looking into her private thoughts, and she felt uncomfortable. But she had nothing to hide. She was just an uncomplicated woman.
“Go on,” Halliday said, then he came away from his sorrel to squat on his haunches before her.
Judith had an inclination to move away from him, but she didn’t. She felt a flush coming to her cheeks and quickly controlled it. She wouldn’t let this man unnerve her with his probing look, cool manner, and supreme self-confidence.
“I want you to understand everything that happened. When Angus Hogan and Kerry’s brother were killed, my father was determined to find their killers and bring them to justice. He was bitterly disappointed when Kerry sold out to Jude Cowley. It meant the water might no longer be ours to use. But my father refused to let an animal die of thirst, so he took the herd across to water, as he always did. Dank, Stone and Wiley were waiting for him at the waterhole and ordered him to leave. My father argued with them and said that he wanted to see Jude Cowley, but those men would have none of it. My father said they started to push him around. Then Will Stone went for his gun and my father had no choice but to kill him. He knew what he had done, but he had been provoked. He backed away, keeping the other pair under his gun. When he arrived home, he was extremely upset. He told me what had happened and he rode off to see both Kerry Hogan and Jude Cowley. He told me later that he was ordered out of town after getting into an argument with Kerry. Then the posse. On pa’s insistence, Abe Gordon took me away. That’s when you showed up. That just about covers everything.”
“Most of it,” Halliday said.
“There’s more?”
“Your father died fighting for his rights. Dank is calling for his blood because one of his sidekicks was killed. The sheriff is in Cowley’s pocket, so you can expect no help from the law. Which leaves you way out on a limb.”
Anger flared in Judith’s eyes.
“I don’t care about that. I’m my father’s daughter. He fought for what’s right and so will I.”
“It will be a dirty fight,” Halliday told her.
“I’m up to it.”
Halliday smiled wryly. “I hope you’re as smart as you are brave, Miss Prewett. You’ll have to be more of the former than the latter, believe me. There are high stakes involved here and now that Cowley’s shown his hand, he can’t waste any time. He has to tie this whole thing up neatly before people start to talk. A quick solution and he might remain in the clear. Dragging it out might see some people start to add things up.”
Judith went quiet. All this time, Abe Gordon hadn’t said a word, realizing that Judith was concentrating on what Halliday had to say.
Halliday had taken over as naturally as if he had been hired to handle the situation, and Gordon had no inclination to butt in. Somehow, he felt that Halliday was the perfect man for the job.
Halliday rose and studied the emptiness of the country before them. He decided it would take an hour to reach the foothills outside town. By then it would be dark.
“We’d better get going,” he said.
Judith looked intently at him. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you have in mind when we reach town, Mr. Halliday? Surely I have a right to know.”
“It’ll be man’s business,” was all he said as he went to his horse.
Judith opened her mouth to protest, but Gordon shook his head at her. He didn’t much like the idea of riding into town and having it out with Cowley. Cowley had Dank and Wiley to back him, not forgetting the lawman. As Gordon saw it, it was a sticky business to get involved in at best, and he could almost smell the stench of the blood that was bound to flow.
Yet Halliday had his full confidence, and the oldster felt that he’d already committed himself and there was no turning back. He went to Judith’s horse and unhitched it. When she took the reins from him, he muttered;
“Let’s play it by ear for the time bein’. I’m not sure about this feller, either, but he seems to know what he’s doin’.”
When he gave her a crooked smile, she said;
“You’ve been such a good friend, Abe.”
Gordon shrugged and went to his horse, but as he rode out after Halliday, he felt a lot better than when he had started out from the ranch.
It was Judith Prewett who counted now ... nobody else. He looked into the distance and decided he wouldn’t mind dying for her.
Somehow, that would relieve him of his guilt.
“I might have made a mistake about Halliday,” Jude Cowley said to Red Dank.
Dank was resting back in a plush chair, a bloodied bandage about his middle. His face was gray and tense with pain but his eyes were alive with hate.
“Mistake?”
“Yeah, an old friend rode into town and told me all about him. Seems what Halliday told Corey Martin earlier had some truth to it. Sending you after Halliday might have seen me barking up the wrong tree.”
“Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter now.” Dank scowled. “Halliday put that bullet in me. That makes him mine.”
“Just don’t let it interfere with what we’ve got to do. You sure you got Prewett?”
“Positive.”
“Fine.” Cowley paced the office, deep in thought. “Another thing’s cropped up. A man named Bo Jackson looks like he could make trouble for me. I want him out of the way. I made a try for him but missed him because I took him too lightly. I should have remembered that the old codger was a lot smarter than he looks. As soon as you’re fit to get around, I want him found and killed. I know I wounded him so he can’t go far.”
Dank pushed himself up to a sitting position, sweat running down his pallid face. Cowley watched him get to his feet and scowl. He didn’t like the idea of Dank being out of business. He trusted Dank and the man had total control of his men. When Dank made a move, the others would follow.
“Get Wiley and the rest of them,” Cowley said. “Then find Jackson. I want him shut up once and for all.”
Cowley was at the door, ready to go when a new thought struck him. “What did Halliday do after he took care of you, Red?” The inference that he had been bested riled Dank. But he knew better than to make an issue of it now.
“He took off,” Dank said.
“You saw him go?”
“There was plenty of dust. I figure Halliday was in it.”
“Could he have linked up with Abe Gordon and Tom Prewett then?” Cowley asked.
Dank was thoughtful for a moment. “Not with Prewett, leastways. That one did his own fightin’. Abe rode off with the girl, I reckon, and I guess Halliday could have linked up with them later.”
Cowley was thoughtful again, then he said, “Well, the girl can’t do anything. Prewett killed Stone and the boys had the right to go after him. If you come across Abe, let him know we don’t think much of traitors. As for Halliday, do with him what you want.”
As Cowley went out, Dank asked;
“What are you going to do now?”
“Find the Prewett girl and talk to her. I think it’s high time she realized that she’s alone in a fight she can never win. If I can’t convince her to sell out to me, then we’ll just wait until things die down. The main thing is not to panic. We’ve made no mistakes so far and I’ll see that we don’t make any in the future.”
Cowley left and found Len Wiley and the others drinking in the saloon. He described Bo Jackson to them and ordered them to find him and kill him. He then made his way down to the jailhouse for a serious talk with Corey Martin.
He figured that the lawman was becoming too soft in his job ...
“What now?” Abe Gordon asked as he and Buck Halliday came out of the yard in the darkness. He leaned across the small gate and stared down the town’s quiet street.
“Trails have closed for now,” Halliday muttered. “But they’ll open up again.”
“Can’t see how,” Gordon mumbled. “Hell, Cowley’s got the law on his side—so who can make him answer for the killing of poor Tom? It won’t matter what anybody says—Tom killed Will Stone, and when he resisted arrest, he was gunned down. Nobody in town will be able to question that.”
“It does look bad,” Halliday admitted, gazing about him. His priority now was to locate Bo Jackson. He still had the feeling that Jackson might hold the key to this whole affair. Moving off, he added;
“Stick close to this place. You’ll be able to help the girl if she needs you, and I’ll be able to find you when I want to. But don’t forget that Cowley’s men know you’ve turned against them. They might not wait around for explanations.”
Gordon nodded grimly and drew his gun. “That much I know. Damned if I know how I got myself into this mess.”
“Because you’re a loyal friend, Abe ... and you’re in love with your friend’s daughter.”
Halliday moved away, leaving Gordon gaping after him.
Halliday didn’t know where to start, so he headed for the livery on a hunch. Finding Bo Jackson’s wagon in the yard, he decided to waste no more time. He questioned the stable hand but learned only that Jackson and a young woman had left the wagon there before going off with their belongings. Jackson hadn’t said how long he’d planned to stay.
Halliday returned to the end of town. He knew there were two places where the pair could rent a room. He’d stayed in one himself. The other, at the extreme end of town, was rundown and suitable only for people who were down on their luck. He went in search of it, keeping to the shadows. On the way, he saw Wiley leave the boardinghouse, accompanied by four of Jude Cowley’s men. Halliday waited for them to pass him before he went on with his search.
He walked into the rooming house’s back yard where a lantern threw out a little light. There were more shadows than places in light, which suited Halliday just fine. He figured that Wiley had made a thorough search of the premises. So if Bo Jackson was here, or had been here, then he’d outwitted Cowley’s man.
Halliday was about to open the back door when he heard a sound behind him. He swung about, his gun coming quickly to his hand. He saw the outline of a woman with a lush body and long hair.
“Mr. Halliday?”
Halliday moved back into deeper shadow.
“It’s me, Marianne.”
Halliday waited for her to move into the light before he showed himself. When she came to him, he drew her into the darkness.
“Bo is hurt, Mr. Halliday. He’s in pain and he sent me out to get help.”
“Where is he?”
Marianne didn’t hesitate to point to the stables up the yard.
“There,” she said. “In back. He says he can’t trust anybody. He keeps talking about being double-crossed. Will you come?”
Halliday nodded.
They crossed the yard and Marianne led the way to the back of the barn. Halliday saw Jackson propped up against the wall, his face screwed up in pain. His gun had been in his lap, but hearing them, he jerked it up. When he saw Halliday, he thumbed back the hammer and cursed.
“Easy, Bo,” Halliday said. “I’m the only friend you’ve got in this town.”
Jackson groaned but kept his gun on Halliday’s chest. “What do you want? Dammit, it was on account of you that Cowley shot me down.”
“Why would he want to do that? Didn’t you tell him we didn’t know each other?”
“I told him, but he ain’t the kind who believes anybody. Bodie Cowley ain’t never trusted anybody in his whole life, not even his own brother. He’s scum through and through.”
The effort of talking brought gleaming sweat to Jackson’s pinched face. He leaned back, dragging air painfully into his lungs. The wheezing told Halliday that the man didn’t have long to live.
“Bodie Cowley?” Halliday said, kneeling and ignoring the threat of Jackson’s gun.
“Yeah ... Bodie. Jude was his brother. I rode with ’em both so I oughtta know.”
“And Cowley tried to kill you?”
Jackson licked at his lips and shifted position again, then he coughed up some blood. “Made a damn good job of it, too, I reckon. I’m done for, Halliday, but by hell, I’m gonna take some hombres with me. You for one. Cowley asked me about you, said you’ve been a thorn in his side. You got him all nervous about me bein’ in town and knowin’ about his past.”
“His past?” Halliday said, seeing the man’s shoulders slump.
Marianne knelt on the other side and held Jackson’s hand. For a moment, Halliday had the impression that she actually felt something for this drifter.
“Tell him, Bo,” Marianne begged. “That man Cowley shot you down, not Mr. Halliday. Mr. Halliday did you no harm. He rode away when you asked him to. And he means you no harm now. He wants to help. Will you kill him and maybe let the man who did this to you go free?”
Jackson frowned heavily. He winced when the slightest movement sent jabs of pain through his body. Then he looked back at Halliday.
“How do you fit in here, Halliday? Tell me the truth now.”
Halliday told him.
Jackson brightened. “Dammit, we’re on the same side! You say nobody in this town can get Cowley—he’s covered his tracks too well?”
“That’s the way it looks to me.”
“Looks ain’t always the way things are,” Jackson said.
He managed to push himself upright and Marianne tore a strip from an undergarment and dabbed sweat from his brow. Jackson gave a grunt of annoyance but his look at her had tenderness in it before he said;
“Bodie Cowley is who he is, Halliday—a killer with a slick, left-handed draw. Jude, he was right-handed and not as fast. Jude was killed and it seems Bodie stepped right into his boots. The law down Platte way would pay plenty to know that Bodie is still alive and usin’ his brother’s name. They wouldn’t bother about Jude—he weren’t worth the trouble, he was nothin’ a-tall without Bodie.” Jackson chuckled. “And I guess nobody checked, once they found Bodie’s papers and personal belongin’s on Jude’s body in that corral. He’s smart, yeah, and mean with it, too.” Jackson’s body slumped again and Marianne went on wiping the sweat from his brow. Then Jackson pushed her hand away and reached for Halliday, the gun dropping into his lap.
“Cowley shot me cold, Halliday, because he was scared I’d give him away. I wouldn’t have, but he ain’t the kind to believe me. I don’t know how good this Dank is who you’re so worried about, but he’d be nothin’ compared to Bodie. Bodie’s the best, the fastest I ever saw. You try to take him on fair and he’ll beat you ev’ry time. Seein’ as how I put you right about all this, I need to ask you a favor.”
“Which is?”
“I want you to look after Marianne. I never treated her that well ... but I ain’t all that bad.”
Jackson closed his eyes. A smile worked across his mouth and then he chuckled. At the end of the chuckle, he began to cough, and finally his head fell forward.
Halliday pulled Marianne away from the body and led her across the yard.
Abe Gordon was waiting in the dark when Buck Halliday returned. His sullen mood made the cowhand more worried than he’d been while waiting there for something to happen, keeping out of sight, frightened at every sound. If it came to a gunfight, Abe Gordon had no fears. It was the waiting that bothered him. “How do you feel?” Halliday asked.
“All right, I guess.”
Halliday looked down the dark street. “We’ve got to make our play,” he muttered.
Gordon looked Halliday straight in the eye. “What have you got in mind?”
“The sheriff answers to Cowley so we’ve got to take him out first.”
“Kill a lawman?”
“No ... just get him out of the way. Then we’ve got to find Dank and Wiley and anybody else who you figure would back Cowley. I have somethin’ on Cowley and I’m sure he’ll break when he hears it.”
Gordon shook his head. “You’ve no doubt worked out what you want me to do in all this. So let’s have it.”
“First, we’ll pay Corey Martin a visit.”
Tension rode his body and he felt it growing with each step he took down the dusty street. They kept to the shadows until they were forced to cross the street near the law office. The lamps had been lit and Halliday tipped his hat down over his eyes. Beside him, old Abe Gordon was plainly nervous—it was one thing telling Halliday that he’d back him to the limit, but it was another actually doing it ...
They reached the law office boardwalk without being seen. Halliday went straight to the front door, opened it and strode inside.
Corey Martin was at his desk, checking through some papers. Halliday let Gordon move past him, then he kicked the door closed and said;
“Looking for the faces of wanted men, Sheriff?”
Martin leaned back and his hand disappeared below the desk. But Halliday’s gun seemed to suddenly appear in his hand as if by magic.
“Draw and you’re dead,” Halliday said matter-of-factly.
Martin’s hand froze.
“Now put your hand where I can see it,” Halliday said. “And it had better be empty.”
Martin’s hand came back into view and Halliday motioned for Gordon to take the lawman’s gun. When the oldster plucked it away, the sheriff growled;
“So help me, Abe, and you, too, Halliday, you’ll both swing for this!”
“Plenty of men will swing,” Halliday told him, “but they have other names, Martin. On your feet.”
The lawman didn’t move.
“What do you think you’re doin’? You can’t get away with this, not in my town! There are too many of us. I’ll have you hunted down, then I’ll personally—”
“You’ve got two seconds to get on your feet,” Halliday said, thumbing back the hammer of his .44.
Martin began to rise. Old Abe Gordon, encouraged by Halliday’s control of the situation, took Martin by the shoulder and pushed him toward the cells. Then, just as Gordon was about to open a cell door, Red Dank stepped into the law office.
Halliday heard him before he saw him. Instinct sent him into a crouch and then a bullet sliced across his cheek, drawing blood. His own gun belched and Dank rocked on his heels, then fired off two more shots. A bullet cut down Abe Gordon, hitting him squarely in the chest. Halliday hit the floor, his gun bucking in his fist.
Through the gun smoke, Halliday saw the gun handler’s face distort.
Dank fired off one last shot but the bullet went harmlessly past Halliday to thud into the back door of the law office. Then Dank crumpled to the floor.
Corey Martin bent over Abe Gordon’s body and pulled out the oldster’s gun. His eyes were bright with triumph as he turned the gun on Halliday.
Halliday went into a roll as two bullets hit the floor at his side. He came up on one elbow and his right hand punched off a single shot.
The bullet took Martin between the eyes. The gun fell from his grasp, then his knees buckled and he pitched forward onto his face and lay still.
Halliday crossed the floor to Abe Gordon’s side. There was nothing he could do for Tom Prewett’s faithful friend.
Dank was lying on his back, his arms outstretched, his face caught in the flow of yellow light from the wall lamp. Blood trickled from his gaping mouth.
Halliday opened the back door and went out into the darkness, taking no notice of the clamor that had broken out front in the street.
Judith Prewett wanted to speak to Buck Halliday, but she didn’t know what to say. For an hour now, while the day began to take shape, she had watched him from the window of her room. Marianne had been with her, too, watching and not saying a word. Marianne’s man was dead. But this young woman’s man was still alive and fighting for her. Judith finally found the courage to touch Halliday on the arm.
“Don’t do anymore,” she said. “You’ve done enough.”
“It’s only the beginning,” Halliday said thickly.
“No!” Judith gripped his arm hard.
Halliday merely looked at the hand and she pulled it away, concerned by what she saw in his eyes.
“We’ve heard the news from our window that Sheriff Martin and Red Dank are dead. Nobody knows what to do. All along, people have been suspicious of him, but he was a good man.”
“Do you know that Abe is dead, too, ma’am?”
Judith nodded.
“He died trying to put Martin into one of his own cells where he belonged,” Halliday told her. “I think Martin knew all along about the old Bodie Cowley. Maybe Cowley was paying him for his silence. Then Dank came in and shot Abe. I had no option but to take them both out. That’s all there was to it.”
“All?” Judith said.
Halliday gave her a crooked smile. “I told you it was man’s business, ma’am.”
He stood up and worked his shoulders. Suddenly, the blankness left his eyes. He looked out at a town that was slowly coming to life in the new day. Within minutes the sun would rise over the foothills and the streets would be ablaze with sunshine.
“What are you going to do now, Mr. Halliday?” Judith asked anxiously.
“Finish it,” he told her. “I don’t know how it will work out. I don’t know how many people will believe what Bo Jackson told Marianne and me. I don’t even know if it’s true. But I’ve killed two of Cowley’s men. He won’t let the matter rest and I can’t run.”
“Why can’t you?” Judith asked.
“It’s not my way,” he said simply, then he walked out.
Judith watched him go and made a tentative move to go after him, to beg him to stay with her or ride out. Suddenly, he seemed to matter to her more deeply than anything else on earth.
Marianne had told her about Jackson’s dying words and his claim that Jude Cowley was the fastest gun he’d ever seen. Also that he was a vicious killer. She knew she had to do something, but again she reminded herself that Halliday was his own man.
She was still watching him go when Marianne came and put her hand on her shoulder.
“No,” Marianne said. “He will do what he has to. Nobody can stop him.”
“But he’ll be killed,” Judith cried.
“Well see,” Marianne said. “What you must do is talk to the others. Mr. Halliday has started the ball rolling. You must see that a check is made on Jude Cowley. You must clear Buck Halliday’s name if anything should happen to him. You have to do this ... for him.”
Buck Halliday pulled out his gun and checked the cylinders.
The street was deserted and a slight wind blew down its length, stirring the dust.
Halliday went straight to the saloon, walked down the side alley and knocked on the door. When the barkeep opened it, he brushed the man aside and strode to the counter.
“You know what it’s all about,” Halliday said. “Leave a bottle and go do your chores. Give anyone a signal that I’m here and you’ll regret it.”
Hollis offered no argument. He waited until Halliday had poured himself a drink before hurrying to get his bucket. He had no real desire to sweep the room, but he wanted to do something to take his mind off things.
Anything ...
Halliday had two drinks before he took his bottle across to a table. He sat there, deep in thought, remembering the men who’d played cards here and would never play again—Will Stone and Red Dank, for starters.
Then his eyes lifted and took in the rest of the room.
Tom Prewett would never again slake his thirst at the counter. Nor would old Abe Gordon spend his spare time here reminiscing about the old days ...
The side door opened and Kerry Hogan entered. He looked carefully past Halliday before he closed the door behind him. He was halfway across the room when Halliday said;
“You know what’s going to happen, Kerry?”
“I’ve a fair idea.”
“So where do you stand in this?”
Hogan drew his gun. “It was Jude Cowley who had my father and brother killed. I can’t forget that.”
“Cowley won’t come alone, you know. There’ll be Wiley and plenty of others.”
“They were probably the bunch who burned us out. You can count on me.”
“Then take your place by the stairs. Some of them will come that way. But when it starts, it’ll be every man for himself.”
Kerry Hogan walked to the foot of the stairs and took up a position against the wall. The boy was scared but he was here and that meant something.
Halliday filled his glass and then tossed the bottle across to the boy. Hogan reached out to catch it, and as he did, a bullet smashed into the wall where he had been.
In his shock, the young man fumbled with the bottle and knocked it away, smashing it on the floor. A second shot sounded and he was driven back against the wall. He stood there, not knowing what had happened.
But Halliday did.
He kicked the table away and swung to his feet. His gun bucked when he saw Len Wiley coming down the stairs with a smoking gun in his fist. Halliday’s two bullets sent Wiley reeling. He hit the wall, clawed at it, dropped his gun and then came tumbling down the stairs.
Halliday ignored him. He heeled about and his gun bucked again. Two cowhands about to rush him were flung back together. As they went from sight, Halliday saw a head pull back from a side door. Then he heard the sound of running feet.
He stood there, waiting for the sounds to die before he went to Kerry Hogan’s side. The youngster had taken a bullet in the side. Halliday helped him to a table and sat him down, then told him to stay put.
Hogan protested, “Damn you, Halliday, I’m no kid! I’m in this up to my teeth.”
“You’ve done enough, Kerry,” Halliday told him. “You’ll be needed to whip your father’s ranch into shape and stand by to protect and help your neighbors. So stay put.”
Halliday palmed the batwings open and went out into the street.
He knew Cowley would be waiting for him.
He strode into the dusty street and looked both ways. When his eyes fell on the law office, he saw Cowley come out.
Jude Cowley, as this town knew him, stepped off the boardwalk and down into the street.
Halliday knew what was in the man’s mind. Cowley was confident, as his reputation gave him every right to be. He was the fastest man in the Platte River country, according to Bo Jackson.
As the gap closed between them, Halliday saw a crowd begin to gather. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Then Jude Cowley stopped.
Cowley wiped his hands down his sides. There was no longer a glove on his right hand. The game was up, and both men knew it.
“You ruined it for me, Halliday,” Cowley said.
“Someone always does,” Halliday answered, and then both men went for their guns.
Cowley’s left shoulder dipped and his hand slashed down. His draw was fast. Watching from the steps, Judith Prewett gasped.
Cowley’s gun cleared leather and even at that distance, Judith could see the gleam of satisfaction in the man’s eyes. It seemed to her that the sun had been caught in those eyes and was now blasting its glare at Halliday, who stood defenseless before the killer’s bullets.
Judith turned away.
But Halliday didn’t move. His own hand had already gone down and up. Then his gun bucked.
The slug took Jude Cowley in the throat. The big man rose onto his toes, a look of absolute surprise on his face. He turned slowly and then he fired once, into the ground, before his legs gave way.
Halliday didn’t bother to walk to the gunfighter. In the hush that had settled over the town, he headed for the livery. Nobody spoke to him, nobody tried to bar his way. He mounted his sorrel and rode out.
Judith Prewett had waited for two days. On the third day, she began to accept the fact that Halliday would never return.
She knew she would never forget him, nor would she understand him, this drifter who’d entered her life and left it just as quickly.
Moist-eyed, she turned to return to the house, pausing only to watch Marianne learning to plait leather under Kerry Hogan’s patient eye. Judith was relieved that Marianne had consented to come live with her. The girl was a good housekeeper and a fine cook. She was also good company. Judith was also pleased that Kerry Hogan had come over each morning to help with the ranch chores. But a void remained in her that she knew might never be filled.
But her father had instilled in her a confidence she knew she could draw on. ‘Life goes on,’ he would often tell her, but a life without Buck Halliday might be too much for her to bear ...