THE CAMP WAS quiet, even allowing for the fact that the men would still be bone-weary.
Buck Halliday came around the bend of the river expecting to see the herd grazing peacefully, but pulled up short when he saw nothing but empty land. Hipping around in the saddle, he checked where Hal Lascombe had sited his chuck wagon. The wagon was still there—or what was left of it, but it now looked to be little more than a charred ruin. Then the barrel of an old rifle appeared from behind the wrecked wagon, followed by an old man who seemed to have aged ten years since the last time Halliday saw him—not more than forty-eight hours ago. Halliday stared into the embittered eyes of Hal Lascombe.
The rifle bucked in Lascombe’s hands, the blast scorching the side of Halliday’s neck. He threw himself from the saddle and went into a roll as a second rifle shot sounded.
“Hal, hold your fire! It’s me, Buck Halliday!”
He heard more bullets being jacked into the rifle’s breech, but there was no more gunshots.
Halliday waited, body pressed flat on the hard ground as he checked out the old man’s battered face. He saw a deep gash just under the old man’s receding hairline and another down his left cheek. Three-quarters of the old-timer’s face was covered with blood, and the rest was streaked with dirt.
A minute passed before Lascombe sleeved his face then squinted, the gun still held steadily in front of him.
“If you’re Buck, come in slow an’ easy. If you ain’t, you’re good as dead!”
Halliday rose slowly, then asked;
“You all right, old-timer? You could have killed me.”
“Ain’t past killin’ you yet, mister, though you do sound a lot like Buck.”
Halliday watched as the old-timer wiped more blood from his face then he walked slowly toward him. Only when he stopped three feet away did he notice that both Lascombe’s eyes were badly bloodshot.
“Maybe this will help,” Halliday said. “You made the best coffee west of New York, Hal.”
Relief flooded through the old man, and he let the rifle fall from his bloodstained hands. Then he lowered his head and rested a bony shoulder against the ruined wagon.
“Hoped you woulda come back, Buck, to make sure of me.”
“Who did it, Hal?” Halliday asked, already thinking he knew the answer.
“Horden and his pals—four in all. They didn’t give the young ’uns and me a chance.”
Halliday kicked a board out of his way and stepped into the cover Lascombe had made for himself. The fire had gutted the wagon until only the front section remained, though it was badly bullet-riddled.
Halliday took an old shirt out of his saddlebags and the canteen from the pommel. Soaking the shirt, he knelt beside the old man and bathed his face. The gash on his forehead had stopped bleeding but the cut in his cheek had started bleeding again. He tore a strip off the shirt, soaked it and made Lascombe hold it over the cut. Then he dripped clean water into the old man’s eyes and made him blink until they were cleared of dirt and debris.
With a sigh of relief, Lascombe slumped back and said; “Thought I’d gone blind, Buck. Everythin’ was a blur.”
Halliday made him drink some water, then helped him to his feet. “Reckon you can make it to the creek, Hal?”
When Lascombe nodded, Halliday helped him down the slope and then into the water. The oldster ducked his head below the surface and after he’d done that several times, he told Halliday he felt better. Halliday helped him back onto the bank and made him sit down. Then the old man told him the full story;
“Weren’t long after you left that Horden held a gun on me. I figgered he was sour about me makin’ him sign that paper for you, but it weren’t that a-tall. He told me he hated my guts, that Mr. Beebe was a fool and that Ella was little more’n a whore.”
“Who were the other three with him, Hal?”
Lascombe nodded. “I was right about the man you said Horden met earlier in the night. It was Luke Kennedy, all right. Soon’s Horden took my gun and set fire to my wagon, Kennedy, Rosen and Goode showed up. I then began to understand what was happenin’.”
“Horden’s play for Ella at the creek went sour and he figured to get even?” Halliday asked.
“Think he had it planned a long time back, Buck. He had that trio get themselves into big trouble in Calico Creek, didn’t bank on ’em gettin’ throwed in jail though. Didn’t bank on Mr. Beebe signin’ you on, either. That left the drive short-handed and the desert crossin’ slower than it should have been. Guess he was stallin’ for time till those three were let outta jail.” When Halliday frowned, Lascombe was eager to go on; “After Horden and his pals left me for dead, I overheard Clay sayin’ they were gonna drive the cattle to Wilbur.”
“Wilbur?” Halliday asked.
“A nothin’ kinda town west of here, near dead on its feet, but it’s still got a rail link to Cheyenne. Wouldn’t be nobody in thet town askin’ questions of an outfit bringin’ in herd to be railroaded out. It’s got no law and hardly any towner better’n a horse thief.”
“How far away is Wilbur, Hal?”
“Drivin’ a herd, two days at least.”
Halliday looked beyond the creek, remembering that this was the direction from which Kennedy had come. Horden’s plan was becoming clearer in Halliday’s mind. He told Lascombe about the trouble in Pebble Ridge and the oldster scowled, now knowing the whole picture.
“Clay played it smart, eh, Buck? He got rid of you, then waited until Mr. Beebe and his daughter went into Pebble Ridge. With them outta the way, all he had to do was cut down the boys an’ me. Then he had plenty of time to steal the herd.”
“How about Sweeney and Trent?” Halliday asked, realizing that Lascombe suggested they’d been killed.
“Shot down cold, Buck. Soon’s Kennedy and his pards showed up, Horden told him to get rid of ’em. I couldn’t do a thing about it, Buck, not with my wagon burnin’ and Clay holdin’ a gun on me.”
A wave of sadness engulfed the old man. He clenched and unclenched his fists as anger replaced regret.
“Dammit, Buck, he won’t get away with it, will he?” Lascombe growled. “Mr. Beebe might be gettin’ on, but he ain’t the kind to let somebody rob him blind and kill his crew. He’ll run that scum down, you can bet on it, and he’ll make ’em pay.”
“Not for a while, he won’t, Hal,” Halliday told him.
Lascombe frowned and waited for an explanation. When Halliday told him about the ambush, the old man’s shoulders slumped dejectedly.
“There’s something that’s worryin’ me, Hal,” Halliday said.
“Like what?”
“If Horden had all this so well planned, why make a play for Ella?”
Lascombe dabbed at his cheek and screwed up his mouth.
“Miss Ella’s a mighty fine lookin’ female, Buck, if you ain’t noticed. Maybe he not only wanted Mr. Beebe’s herd, he wanted his daughter and the ranch as well!”
The old man jumped to his feet but the sudden movement sent pain shooting through his head and he almost fell.
Halliday caught him in time and said;
“Guess that head wound’s a little worse than we both think, Hal. Take it easy now.”
“And let that scum get away?”
“He won’t get away,” Halliday promised, and once again stared across the river, where the heat haze was already causing the timber to appear to be shimmering.
Lascombe lifted blistered hands to his head and gasped painfully, and for a long time Halliday stood over him, knowing what he had to do first.
“First thing is to get you to town, Hal.”
“First thing is to get after Horden ... both of us, Buck,” the old-timer corrected him.
“You’d only slow me down, Hal,” Halliday told him. Lascombe dropped his hands and his face became ashen. He looked at Halliday intently, and said;
“You’ll do this, Buck? For Mr. Beebe, even though he stood by Clay agin you?”
“I’ve had worse things happen to me in my time, Hal,” Halliday told him.
“He wronged you and Ella wronged you worse.”
“Women can be strange critters sometimes, Hal.”
“Don’t I know. Just remember, there’s four of them and you’re only one man.”
“You don’t like the odds, Hal?”
Lascombe continued to study him before he grinned. “Well, I ain’t about to say that in my opinion you ain’t up to it, Buck. But this time it won’t be just between you and Horden. There’s four of the bastards, and I reckon Kennedy’s a gunhawk.”
“You think I should let ’em get away with it, Hal?”
Lascombe shook his head. “You’re not the kind to do that, Buck. What I’m sayin’ is you don’t owe the Beebes a thing.”
“I liked Jim and Lee.”
“Thet all?”
“Got a soft spot for you, too, old-timer.”
Lascombe extended a hand for Halliday to help him to his feet. “I ain’t that big a fool I don’t know how bad I’m hurt, Buck. I lost a heap of blood when thet scum gunned me down. And I got burned lyin’ in the back of my wagon pretendin’ I was dead. But so help he, when I’m patched up, I want in on the hunt.”
“First we’ll get you patched up, eh?”
Lascombe nodded.
Halliday helped him back up the slope and sat him down in tree shade. Then he swung onto his sorrel and went looking for the wagon’s teamers.
He picked up their tracks and followed them, finally finding them grazing peacefully. He brought them back but realized that Lascombe would make heavy weather of riding one bareback when he’d been used to sitting on the sprung seat of a wagon. He was deciding what to do when he noticed movement off to his right. He drew his gun and quickly put it away when he saw Jim Sweeney staggering out from behind some trees about ten yards away, his right hand clamped to his left shoulder and his hair matted with blood.
Halliday caught him as he stumbled and lowered him gently to the ground, then said;
“Where’s Lee?”
Sweeney stared up with pain-filled eyes and when recognition struck, tears streamed down his face.
“Lee’s dead, Buck.”
“I figgered you both were, young feller,” Lascombe said.
Sweeney turned his face toward the oldster.
“We seen the fire and figured you was in trouble, Hal. Then three fellers appeared outta nowhere. Damned if they weren’t Kennedy, Rosen and Goode.”
“I know,” Lascombe told him. “You sure they got Lee?”
Sweeney bit his lip and nodded.
“He didn’t stand a chance. Soon’s they saw us, Lee asked ’em what they wanted. Kennedy just pulled a gun and shot him clear through the head. I went for my gun but the others gunned me down.”
He shook his head as if to wipe away the memory. Halliday and Lascombe waited for the young man to regain his composure. It took a while.
“I remember somethin’ explodin’ in my head and then a bullet ripped through my shoulder. Then I musta passed out.”
Halliday examined his head wound. A four inch gash extended from his hairline up into his thick, curly hair and he’d bled so much the left side of his face was plastered with hair and blood.
“They’d figured you were dead,” Halliday told him. “Best you come down to the river and clean up while I check on Lee.”
The youngster made no protest when Halliday pulled his hand away. The shoulder wound was bad, splintered bone showing through the torn flesh.
“No need to check, Buck,” Sweeney said quietly. “Lee’s dead. I checked on him before I heard them horses.”
“Then I’ll bury him,” Halliday said.
Sweeney allowed himself to be helped down to the river where both Lascombe and Halliday did their best to wash away the blood. Later, with his head bandaged and his arm strapped across his chest, he sat staring forlornly at the ground, tears streaming down his face.
While Halliday went off to bury Trent and search for their horses, Lascombe tried to console the youngster, but had little success.
It was only after Halliday had returned with two horses that Sweeney stirred sufficiently to say;
“Thet time with the girl, Buck. She was only fifteen, like Lee said, and I was scared witless. It was just like Lee said.”
He bit his lip and closed his eyes, a tremor running through his body.
“None of that matters now, Jim,” Halliday said.
Sweeney’s head came up with a jerk, fire in his eyes.
“Sure it matters. I ain’t lettin’ Lee get killed and not admit I lied when he was tellin’ the truth.”
Halliday nodded for Lascombe to stay with Sweeney while he checked the saddles of the horses. Then he helped Lascombe onto one horse and young Jim onto the other. Once he was in the saddle, he said;
“If either of you feels like resting, just say so.”
“And waste valuable time?” Lascombe asked.
“You’re witnesses to what happened here,” Halliday told them. “The best thing you both can do now is stay alive.”
“While Horden gets away?” Hal growled.
Sweeney turned to stare at Lascombe.
“Clay was in on it?”
“He sure was,” Lascombe nodded grimly. “He planned the whole thing.”
“And he had Lee killed?”
When Lascombe nodded again, Sweeney straightened in the saddle and said;
“So after shootin’ us they stole Mr. Beebe’s cattle? That what you’re tellin’ me, Hal?”
“I’m tellin’ you thet Clay Horden had Mr. Beebe shot and is right now headin’ to Wilbur with the herd. So what we got to do is not hold Buck back more’n we have to.”
Sweeney turned to look at Halliday.
“Hold you back from doin’ what, Buck?”
“From gettin’ after Horden, thet’s what,” Lascombe said. Sweeney shook his head as if unable to understand all that was being said. Then fire burned in his eyes again. “Well, I’m comin’ with you, Buck. Lee was the only real friend I ever had.”
“First we have to get you to Pebble Ridge and let a sawbones take a look at your head,” Halliday said. “Agreed?”
“Wilbur ain’t Pebble Ridge way,” Sweeney said sourly.
“But it’s where we’re goin’ first,” Halliday insisted.
Sweeney checked with Lascombe. “You gonna go along with that after all the years you been with Mr. Beebe, Hal? You gonna let scum like Horden do this and get away with it?”
“What I’m not gonna do, son,” Lascombe snapped sourly, “is sit here bleedin’ to death. So shut up and let’s get movin’!”
Sweeney scowled darkly at him, then at Halliday. His face was drawn and there were rings under his eyes. But more than that, Halliday was worried by the way he was slumped in the saddle and the way his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He knew the youngster was close to passing out. He said;
“The sooner we get to Pebble Ridge and check with Ella, the better it will be all round, Jim.”
“But Miss Ella’s a girl,” Sweeney complained. “This ain’t the kind—”
“She’s more a woman than a girl,” Halliday said, cutting him short.
He moved his sorrel along the trail and Lascombe was quick to follow him. After a look back at his friend’s final resting place, Jim Sweeney was quick to follow.
Ella Beebe was speechless when she saw Hal Lascombe, Buck Halliday and the ashen-faced Jim Sweeney draw rein out front of the medic’s cottage.
She came hesitantly down the steps behind the bustling doctor and watched Halliday lift Sweeney from the saddle and carry him inside. The medic assisted the groaning Hal Lascombe, and only when all four had gone past did Ella hurry in after them. Despite the shock their arrival had caused, she revived sufficiently to make up a bunk for the oldster, then stayed with Sweeney while the medic did his best to make Hal comfortable.
Halliday stood in the doorway, watching Ella as she carefully removed Sweeney’s bloodied shirt, stifling a cry when she saw the extent of his wound.
“It’ll mend, in time,” Halliday told her quietly. “I think his head wound’s worse.”
Ella parted the hair on the young man’s head, and this time couldn’t suppress a cry.
“Lee’s dead,” Halliday said. “It was Horden, Kennedy and two more of your father’s hired hands, Rosen and Goode.”
Ella looked back at him, her face drained of all color.
“And the chuck wagon was burned and the herd stolen.”
A look of anguish came over Ella’s face.
“Are you sure it was Clay?”
“Seems it was all a prearranged plan. Your cattle are now well on their way to Wilbur.”
Ella stared at him in silence and kept shaking her head in disbelief. Sweeney hadn’t stirred, and Halliday was unsure if he would make it. But he knew there was nothing more he could do. Ella would summon up enough courage to help all she could, but it was now up to the medic.
“When Hal’s well enough to talk, we’ll let him tell you the full story. He has no reason to lie. And when Horden comes back, which I think he will, if I miss him, I want you to keep him here.”
“Even if what you just said proves to be true?” Ella exploded.
“Make no mistake, it’s true. But it would be better if he doesn’t think you know, especially if I’m not around.”
“Surely you don’t expect me to do nothing if he shows up?” Ella stammered.
“Just keep Lascombe and Sweeney out of sight, pretend you don’t know a thing. Maybe there’s a better way, but if there is, I don’t know it yet.”
Halliday left her and went back to Lascombe’s room. He found that the old man was very weak but conscious. He outlined his scheme to trick Horden into staying, and Lascombe nodded his full agreement.
Then the medic advised him to let the oldster rest and Halliday returned to the street, swung onto his sorrel, kicked it into a run and headed west on the trail to Wilbur.