Rees Mann thought that it was time to take fresh stock of the situation in which he’d found himself.
In his first meeting with Aldo Latimer, he had carefully sized the man up to be wily, sneaky and ambitious, but was almost powerless to do anything against him. That opinion had been correct, but it no longer mattered now that Latimer was dead. Mann felt no remorse. Nor was he concerned about the fate of the others.
He halted his horse in the shade of a cottonwood clump and studied the trail ahead. He was surprised that Dick Clayton and his niece had covered so much ground in such a short time. They were still ahead of him, although the tracks of the rig were fresh in the powdery ground along the creek bank. In two hours or perhaps three, he decided, he’d close the distance between them.
He looked at his backtrail as he had done for hours. Nobody was following him. But he knew that Halliday would certainly come. The very air about him was full of tension, as was the silence that had come down like a cloak. He wasn’t unduly worried, in fact he looked forward to a showdown with the man. The drifter was going to eat his lead, and no mistake.
The issues were crystal clear to him. Clayton and his niece were ahead, Halliday was behind. The Claytons had the papers that established their rights to their property. The railroad representative was either in Parson Falls awaiting their arrival or he was already on the way to meet them. The signing over of the land would be a simple transaction, then Clayton and his niece would have their hands on the money. He could see no difficulty at all in taking it from them. He would wait for the money to be handed over, and then he’d make his move.
This, he told himself, was the very crux of the deal, so he would have to be patient. And he could think of no better way of spending that time than in the company of Dick Clayton’s beautiful niece.
At first, Hope Clayton had appeared to him to be just another simple range girl. Subsequent events had shown her to be surprisingly courageous, and was one of the most spirited women he had ever met.
He came out of the shade after checking his backtrail and then he put his horse into a run and kept pushing it to maintain the pace. By mid-afternoon, he guessed from the tracks that he was no more than an hour behind his quarry. He looked at the sun and figured he’d reach them before sundown. He watered the horse at a spring, gave it a five minute rest, and then drove it hard into the hill country. Now, his gaze continually searched for the rig. Ahead, a flock of birds took to the air that told him of activity in that area. He slowed his mount and rode directly toward a steep rise.
He found a trail without any tracks, and at the top of the rise, he stopped. His gaze swept the land below him until he saw the faint outline of the rig. An attempt had been made to hide it in brush. He smiled, took out his gun and rode the horse on at a steady walk. Then he hauled rein and looked back over his trail.
There was nothing to be seen. He waited for a full minute before he called out;
“Clayton, it’s me, Rees Mann. I mean you no harm, the dead opposite in fact.”
There was no response.
Mann’s face showed no expression as he went on;
“Latimer is dead and his outfit has disbanded. I finally realized how wrong they were. So I’ve come to help you as much as I can and see that you have no more trouble about transacting your business.”
Mann pulled his hand back and then hurled the gun into a clearing. He then lifted his hand higher and pulled the bloodied bandanna from it.
“You can see there was trouble, Clayton. I lost one gun and many men have been killed. I’m so glad it’s all behind me. Latimer told me a heap of lies, but if you think back, you’ll know that at no time did I harm you or your niece. I merely carried out Latimer’s orders.”
Here he paused, his head cocked to hear a reply. But no sound came from the rocky country ahead of him. A frown puckered his brow. He tried again, keeping his voice flat and calm.
“If you’ll remember that incident in town, I played no part in that, either. And I didn’t interfere when Halliday came to your rescue. As soon as I saw how things were, I told the Latimer ranch hands to get out of town. The following morning, when Latimer told me what he had in mind, I packed my things and left. He didn’t like me leavin’ him so he sent his men after me. Some were killed and I was wounded, but the upshot of it is that I’m here to help you get to Parson Falls because I feel guilty about all the trouble Latimer has caused you and your niece. If you don’t accept my offer, well, I’ll just go on my way. I’ll give you a few minutes to chew it over.”
He was about to dismount when Dick Clayton’s old rifle barrel pushed through the brush, and he said sharply;
“Stay put, Rees. Don’t you move now.”
Mann relaxed in the saddle and let the reins drop. A moment later, he heard movement down the trail and saw Hope Clayton step out from behind a boulder. She climbed a rock and made a long and careful study of the country below them. Coming back up the trail, she stopped behind Mann’s horse. He removed his hat and gave her a brief nod.
“I’m alone, as you can see.”
“Maybe you are, but that don’t prove nothin’ to me,” the old man snapped. “You took Latimer’s money to do his dirty work and maybe you’re still takin’ it. Maybe Latimer ain’t dead like you say. But I don’t give a hang about that one way or the other. You just tell me why we should want your help when we’re only a day’s ride from Parson Falls and I got the sights of my gun trained square on your guts?”
Mann shrugged easily. “There’s been a lot of talk about the deal you’re about to make, Clayton. I know for a fact that most of Latimer’s crew would give their eyeteeth for the chance to get their hands on you and make you sign over your land to them. Now that Latimer’s dead, what’s to stop them from comin’ after you and givin’ you hell one way or another? I’d think about your niece’s safety first. Some of that crowd have had their eyes on her and they haven’t tried to hide it.”
Clayton stepped clear of the brush, looking tired and haggard. His eyes were red-rimmed and there was a slump to his narrow shoulders. His angry stare settled on Mann and he jerked the old rifle up higher.
“I don’t need your help to stop them scum from gettin’ to my Hope. The first one who shows his face anywhere near her will get it shot off. As for the rest of your fancy lingo, I don’t know whether to trust you of not. You got a way of provin’ what you just said, mister?”
Mann shook his head and then showed the old man his wounded wrist. “Latimer did that.”
“Who can back up what you say?”
“Nobody,” Mann said.
He picked up the reins and turned the horse side-on to Clayton. Looking down at Hope, he said;
“Miss Clayton, I’m sorry I failed to convince your uncle about my intentions. But I fully understand his suspicions. If you won’t let me help you, then at least take my advice. Get the hell away from here just as soon as you can. If you get caught up here, there’ll be no way out for you, but down in the flat country, there’s always a chance of somebody ridin’ by from Parson Falls.” Mann turned back to Clayton. “Will you hand me my gun?”
Clayton had already picked up the big gun. He held it thoughtfully in his left hand, weighing it carefully. The weight of the gun surprised him. He then tucked his rifle under his armpit and emptied the shells into his hand. Tossing the gun back, he said. “Now you git, young feller, and stay away from us. Maybe you mean well, but, by hell, I’ve got this far without help from anybody and I’ll go all the way into Parson Falls under my own steam, too. Now just you ride outta here and keep on goin’.”
“I’ll be in Parson Falls, if you need me,” Mann said, then he rode past Hope, giving her another friendly nod.
He was no more than twenty yards away and looking straight down into the heat-seared distance when she walked across to her uncle.
“What if he’s telling the truth, Uncle?” Hope said. “What if those other men are at this very moment closing in on us?”
“Then a few of ’em are gonna get buckshot where they won’t like it, girl. Now go see how the horse is doin’.”
“I’ve already checked on him, Uncle,” Hope told him, looking disturbed. “He’s exhausted and can’t go another step till morning.”
“It’s got to. We can’t camp out here, not with Mann knowin’ our whereabouts. Hell, it didn’t take him long to find our rig, did it? You reckon that don’t prove how sneaky he is? I tell you, he’s out to help nobody but himself, that one.”
“He’s hurt, Uncle,” Hope said as she watched the tall, straight-backed gun hand ride away.
Clayton snorted. “Sure he’s hurt. I’m hurt, a lot of other folks are hurt. He reckons Latimer shot him in the wrist. Well, from what I know of Aldo Latimer, he hasn’t the guts to tackle somebody like Rees Mann. I’m sayin’ it now, loud and clear—he’s lyin’. I don’t know what he’s up to, ridin’ in here and pretendin’ to offer us help. Maybe he figured on gettin’ us off our guard so he could jump me.”
Clayton fingered his unruly hair back and checked his rifle again. He then stormed back into the brush and made his way down to where the unharnessed horse stood, head down, almost out on its feet. He made a thorough study of its coat and condition. Then cursing under his breath, he returned to find his niece building a fire. He let out a deep sigh. “Might as well light it, girl, and to hell with the smoke. Mann knows where we are and maybe some others do, too. We’ll give them an open invitation ... but we won’t be here for the party.”
“What do you have in mind, Uncle?” Hope asked, seeing a gleam of cunning in the old-timer’s eyes.
“I got it in mind to drag the rig away, girl. It won’t be so damned hard going downhill. “Won’t have to go far, neither. Then we’ll put the horse in the shafts and let him rest the night. Come morning, I’ll drive him all the way to Parson Falls, even if it kills the both of us.”
Hope lifted her head and worked cramp from her neck and shoulders. The sun had burned her all that day and what she wanted most just then was a bath and then a long, uninterrupted sleep. She got the fire going and put on the coffeepot. Then, while her uncle checked the area for the best route to drag the rig, she made up their evening meal.
Zac Whelan packed salt on his butchered hand and wrapped a strip of old blanket around it. He then mounted his horse, let it drink from the creek while he fought to stop from crying out against the pain. If he had a gun, he doubted if he could use it.
Sweat ran in rivers down his face. Despite his pain and recurring waves of panic, his mind clung to the thought that Rees Mann was somewhere up ahead. He had to find him and tell him what had happened. Mann had ridden out before the fight was over, and Whelan hated him for that. But he admitted that the gunman had at least showed some sense. But he still felt that Mann should have stood his ground a little longer.
Suddenly, he felt terribly alone. He kept looking about him, imagining that at any moment, somebody—Buck Halliday most likely—would jump up out of the ground and finish him off. He had to stay alive, because one of these days he would get his revenge on Tim Shelvy. He’d watch the man suffer just like Shelvy had watched him.
The sun went down behind the western rim, and with the dusk came the cool air. He left the creek and followed the ruts left by the Clayton rig. The jolting of the horse under him caused him discomfort for the next hour, then darkness began to swallow up the range and he looked about for a place to make camp. He had just selected a flat piece of country surrounded by rocks and brush on three sides when he saw Rees Mann.
Mann was astride his horse under the shadows of a tall cottonwood. He had his gun in his holster and his hands were locked together on his saddle pommel. He looked completely relaxed as he studied Whelan, who drew rein, smothered a cry of pain, and said;
“Am I glad I caught up with you!”
Mann’s gaze shifted over the big man’s frame, taking in the empty holster, the bandaged hand, the brush-torn clothes and the pain-riddled face.
“I’m surprised to see you up here,” he said.
Whelan shuddered. “That Shelvy bunch fixed us up real good. Latimer’s dead, so there’s only you and me now.”
“What about Halliday?” Mann asked as Whelan rode up.
“He cut out on his own. I reckon I’m in front of him, but not by much.”
Whelan pulled his bandage off and showed Mann his ruined hand. After Mann studied it blandly, Whelan said;
“Shelvy did that to me. Hell, you’ve gotta help me get square with that bastard. I’ll get another gun and I’ll learn how to use it in my left hand. I know others who have done it.”
“I’ve heard that, too.”
Whelan’s eyes lit up. “Maybe one day some medic will be able to fix me up like new. We can still be a team. I’ll do anythin’ you say. Right now we can catch up with that old buzzard, get his deeds and still sell his place.”
Mann nodded calmly. Taking the man’s silence as a vague acceptance, Whelan brightened and said;
“We’ll make it. Could be we might even take the girl along with us, eh?”
“Now there’s a thought,” Mann said, then he turned his horse and looked back along the long trail he’d taken a half-hour ago. “You ready to ride?”
“Where?”
“Up there where Clayton and his niece have made camp. I checked on them earlier, but Clayton got the drop on me. I decided not to take any fool chances and to wait till morning before I approached them again. But now, waitin’ seems the wrong thing to do, what with you along to keep the girl busy while I take the old man out.”
Whelan licked nervously at his lips and hugged his hand to his chest. “I ain’t exactly up to handlin’ that hellcat. Maybe, like you said, we should wait till mornin’.”
“Time’s runnin’ out. If Clayton gets away tonight, he might make it all the way to Parson Falls. They got a fire goin’ but I figure it’s just to fool me. That old coot wouldn’t be that stupid to show the world where they are. We’ll ride in slow. When you sight the girl, make sure she doesn’t give us any trouble. Let’s go.”
Whelan wiped his face on his sleeve and was reminded again of the beating Halliday had given him. He knew he couldn’t achieve much on his own, but with Mann along, who knew …?
That settled in his mind, he followed Mann up the trail, his gaze continually searching for the first sign of life. Every nerve end seemed alive. Finally, they reached the fire which had all but burned down, when Whelan said;
“Looks like you’re right. Hell, workin’ with you is gonna be a breeze compared to workin’ with Aldo Latimer. That fat shoat didn’t know how to think things through. He made a heap of mistakes, and some I even warned him about. Only thing was, I didn’t know how you’d feel about anybody doin’ that.”
“Work your way up through the timber,” Mann told him. “You can see the tracks. Their horse would have to be spent, the way he’s been pushin’ it. If that’s so ... we’ll have them.”
Whelan made a careful inspection of the tracks and smiled in satisfaction. “Seems to me you could be right. That old codger got off here and was likely pulling it up the slope. Must be that his horse is out on its feet.” He looked about him and suddenly he remembered he was defenseless. “Clayton’s got that old rifle and the girl ain’t no slouch when it comes to usin’ a whip. I reckon we’d best be right careful from here on in. No tellin’ what they got planned for anybody tryin’ to jump ’em.”
“So go and see,” Mann said. “Clayton will hole-up where he can get the most protection. And just remember ... where Clayton is, you’ll find his niece.”
Whelan frowned heavily as he looked ahead. The silence unsettled him. There was only enough moonlight to throw distorted shadows over the landscape.
He walked his horse down the narrow trail, taking half an hour to reach the end of the long slope. He was about to ride into the moonlight when he saw a cluster of boulders just ahead and brush behind them thick enough to conceal a horse and rig.
He dismounted, finger-tipped sweat from his top lip and drew down a ragged breath. His nervousness was increasing by the minute and at each slight sound of wind-stirred brush, he gave a start. But the worst part for him was the absence of Rees Mann. He hadn’t sighted Mann for the last ten minutes.
He didn’t have a gun and had no clear idea of what might be in front of him. He was still trying to make a decision when a blast of gunfire broke the night’s stillness. He let out a sharp cry and bolted for the cover of the rocks. In so doing, he almost ran into a second rifle blast. He veered to the left, running as fast as his fat legs would carry him. On the way, he saw Hope crouched high on a rocky slope, moonlight gleaming off her long hair. He charged into the brush, tripped on a deadfall and fell. As soon as he hit the ground, he scrambled back to his feet. His hand hurt like crazy and having to hold it against his chest made his running awkward. But he trudged on, fear tugging at his senses.
It was only when he reached a point beyond the boulders and the brush and was about a hundred feet from where the young woman crouched, that he saw Rees Mann again.
To his relief, Mann was riding hard now, galloping his horse past the boulders.
Whelan stopped and drew down a deep breath. He was about to shout when he saw that Mann was coming straight at him. He leaned against a tree and decided to leave it all to him.
Mann could kill Clayton easily now and then there’d be only the girl.
Mann crossed a moonlit stretch and Whelan lifted his hand in greeting. Mann had his gun out. His gaze settled on Whelan and a thin smile twisted at the corners of his mouth.
Whelan frowned, not understanding what Mann had to grin about. Then Mann’s gun leveled on him. As a cry of disbelief rose to Whelan’s lips, Mann’s bullet slammed into his chest. Whelan’s body was nailed to the tree by the impact, and then a second bullet blew his chest open.