Buck Halliday carefully swept away his tracks before he arrived back at the Cantrell spread. Once there, with Billy Cantrell lying unconscious along the neck of his horse, he rode straight up to the door of the cabin. After calling out to Mary Bland and receiving no answer, he pulled Cantrell from his horse and carried him inside.
Finding the bed neatly made behind the curtain, Halliday lowered Billy onto it, removed his boots and then tore open his shirt.
Billy’s left shoulder was bleeding badly, and there was bone showing. As well, his right thigh was gashed and his left knee was shattered. For the first time Halliday realized the suffering the boy had gone through and was amazed that he’d stayed conscious for as long as he did.
Disappointed that Mary was not there, Halliday left Billy on the bed and went outside to check the barn and horse yards. He remembered seeing a black mare the previous evening, but the mare was gone now.
Returning to the house, he got a fire going in the stove and put on a pot of water. While he waited for the water to boil, he searched the house for cure-alls or whiskey. He selected a clean white blouse from a drawer and while he tore it into strips, he checked on Billy Cantrell. The boy was still unconscious, his face still gray, but at least his breathing had returned to normal.
For the next half-hour, Halliday gently cleaned Billy’s wounds then pulled a sheet over Billy’s chest and sat down at the table.
He was certain that Cord Dorgan and his crew would soon make an appearance, but knew he couldn’t risk moving the unconscious boy to a safer place. Getting jolted about on a horse again would only open the wounds and that could be serious enough to kill him. Billy had lost a great deal of blood and he now had a temperature. Halliday figured the boy had about a fifty-fifty chance of pulling through.
Halliday went back to the barn and led his sorrel into the thick timber behind the cabin. Then he settled down to wait.
Jim Buchanan kept quiet during the long, hot ride through the hills, but Jay Casey still smarted over the treatment Halliday had meted out to him. His hand ached but he refrained from complaining about it. Finally, he heeled his horse alongside Cord Dorgan’s and said;
“We’ll be in sight of the Cantrell place in a couple minutes.”
“That close?” Dorgan said.
“Just over the next hill.”
Dorgan looked around, anger still burning inside him. It had been years since anyone had given him this much trouble. He cursed his own stupidity for hiring the drifter in the first place, and then setting Buchanan onto him.
Halliday had subjected Buchanan to a heavy defeat. Then he had shot the gun out of Casey’s hand. Maybe, Dorgan mused as he studied his top hand intently, his outfit could do with some changes.
He reined his horse down and called his men to him.
“We’re gonna close in on the Cantrell place. Whoever’s in there, I want ’em flushed out... particularly if it’s Halliday.”
“What if the girl’s in there, boss?” Red Simpson asked. “What if she is?”
“Some of us don’t like the idea of shootin’ a woman,” Simpson allowed.
“Even if she’s trespassin’ on my land?”
“I thought it was Cantrell’s land,” Simpson stated, his weathered face lacking expression.
“Then you thought wrong, mister!” Dorgan grated. “When Tim Cantrell died, that place became mine. Which makes anyone on that land trespassers, in my book.”
Simpson looked at Tub Wheelahan, who merely frowned. The man was a good drinker ... nothing more.
“I don’t get it, boss,” Simpson opined. “That land’s free range. Way I understand it, if a man gives a place up, it’s open season for anybody else to stake a claim and try to improve it.”
Dorgan’s mouth twisted with renewed anger. “Dammit, Red. I’m telling you that the place is mine and anyone on it is trespassin’. You got anythin’ else to say about it, you’d do well to keep it to yourself!”
“He’s been sayin’ a heap lately and most of it’s been out of order,” Casey put in.
Dorgan turned on his gun handler. “Seems you are too, Jay, so it might pay you to clam up as well.”
“I’m not goin’ after a woman,” Simpson repeated bluntly.
“Me, neither,” Wheelahan said, working his mount closer to Simpson’s.
“What the hell is this?” Dorgan raged. “Are you two buckin’ me, you damn fools?”
“We don’t see that Halliday did more than put Jim in his place and keep Jay from shooting a boy down who had already been badly injured,” Simpson continued. “Maybe you’re movin’ too fast in this, Mr. Dorgan, and mebbe it’s even in the wrong direction.”
Dorgan’s lips thinned to a razor slash. His gaze flicked to Jay Casey and then back to Jim Buchanan. When Simpson saw Dorgan nod his head, he straightened in the saddle and dropped his hand on his gun butt.
But it was too late.
Buchanan brought his clenched right hand down hard between Red Simpson’s shoulder blades. His second blow was to Simpson’s jaw, sending the man toppling from his saddle. Wheelahan wheeled his horse around but saw Casey’s gun was aimed at his head.
“What’d you do that fer, Jim?” Wheelahan demanded.
Casey swung the gun and clipped Wheelahan across the right cheek with the barrel. The other men backed their horses away, showing clearly that they wanted no part of this. Wheelahan lay sprawled on the ground a few feet from Red Simpson, who got shakily to his feet and dusted himself down.
“So that’s it?”
“That’s it, Red. In this outfit, you either do as I say or you find a job somewheres else!”
“Then I’m happy to say adios.”
“You plan to link up with Halliday, Red?” Dorgan asked thinly. “Is that your double-crossin’ scheme?”
“I’ve got no ties with Halliday and I don’t want any. I signed on with your outfit to punch cattle. This ain’t the way I want to earn my money.”
Dorgan dropped a hand to his gun butt. “You walkin’ out on me then?”
Simpson’s face darkened. “I’m not shootin’ up a woman, boss, not for you or anybody else.”
“Then your shootin’ days are over, mister.”
With that, Dorgan drew his gun and blasted Red Simpson off his feet. When Tub Wheelahan got to his feet with a roar of rage and went for his gun, Jay Casey shot him through the back of the head. Then, as Casey swung his gun around to cover the rest, Dorgan said;
“Anybody else wanna buck me?”
When nobody answered, Dorgan lowered his gun and said;
“All right. So now we get done what we set out to do. We’ll leave those two bastards to the buzzards.”
He motioned Buchanan to lead the way, and held his horse back until all the men were ahead of him. Although he knew the shots would have warned Halliday, he didn’t care. He grinned. It had been a long time since he’d killed a man, but he felt good getting rid of that pair.
Mary Bland heard the gunshots as she rode hard after leaving Crater Creek. Her main aim was to catch up with Billy Cantrell. The boy had been right about how the town would react to her story. If he was still at the cabin, she’d have to find some way to keep him there.
Reining-in, she looked around and saw that she was still several miles from home, but to get there she would have to ride into the high country, and that was where the gunshots had come from.
Keeping to tree cover, she worked her mare slowly up the slope until suddenly the long gully was ahead of her. Tim had used the gully whenever he had ridden to town. She’d accompanied him several times and now she remembered how he’d made certain that her horse had the best footing.
A feeling of deep anguish rose within her but she forced it aside. She had to stay in control of emotions in order to help Billy, if that shooting meant he was in trouble.
Then she saw the riders above her—a long line of them strung out in single file.
Mary reined-down again and looked frantically around her. She knew that when Billy saw those riders, he wouldn’t ask questions. He would start shooting.
But what could she do?
She couldn’t ride past them without being seen, and going around them would only slow her down. But she had to try something.
She then wished that she had carried a gun, though the thought sent shivers down her spine.
Had she become like the rest of the people out here, like her own father and brother, both killed in a senseless bloodbath in Cheyenne?
She fingered perspiration from her brow and followed the tracks of the riders. She kept to cover as much as possible so that when the riders reached the end of the gully and climbed the slope, she would have open country ahead of her. There would be little to no cover between her and the cabin, and she would be in plain sight of the men.
Her heart racing, she held the reins more tightly now; and then kicked her horse into a run.
She reached open country and set the horse straight for the back of the cabin. For fifty yards she heard nothing but the whisper of the wind, then came the roar of guns. She flattened herself along the neck of her horse and held her breath.
She was a hundred yards from the cabin and thought she would make it when she suddenly felt the mare falter. She tried to keep its head up, but suddenly its legs gave way and she was thrown over its head. For what seemed like an eternity, she flew through the air, then she saw the ground come up to meet her and she threw out her hands. She slammed hard into the ground and rolled.
When she stopped rolling, she was looking up at a clear sky, and feeling no pain. She quickly caught her breath. Then she heard fast-approaching hoofbeats.
In a panic, she pushed herself to a sitting position in time to see Cord Dorgan riding straight toward her, with Jim Buchanan and Jay Casey not far behind.
Mary screamed as she struggled to her feet and broke into a run for the cabin, her mind desperate to know;
Where was Billy ...? Surely he could hear the gunfire ...?
Then she saw Buck Halliday in the cabin doorway, a gun in either hand. At that moment, she wanted him with every fiber of her being.
Halliday ran to her and said calmly, “Get inside and keep your head down!”
Mary ran to the cabin as fast as she could, her arms pumping, her skirt flying about her knees, her long hair flowing behind her.
Halliday stopped running and stood with his feet planted wide. Mary looked back at him, hope surging through her body. Gasping for breath, she raced into the house and threw herself on the floor as bullets thudded into the front wall and Halliday’s guns barked in response.
Out in the open, Halliday first moved to the right, then darted back to the left, his guns roaring all the while. A bullet grazed his forearm but he ignored it as Cord Dorgan bore down on him, his face contorted with hate and fury. Halliday then saw Jim Buchanan flatten himself along the neck of his horse as the animal shied and bolted in fear from the savage barrage of Halliday’s bullets.
When Jay Casey swung his horse away, Dorgan was the only gunman riding straight toward the cabin. Then he seemed to sense the danger and he, too, swung his mount away. The others raced their horses past the cabin, sending bullets plowing harmlessly into the walls. Then they were gone, and there was only the drumming of fading hoofbeats to break the day’s stillness.
The dust in the clearing began to settle as Halliday entered the cabin and closed the door. There was no lock, so he propped a chair under the latch and took up a position at a side window. When he saw Mary get up from the floor, he said;
“I’ve got enough to worry about, ma’am. Stay down!”
He checked the window, then the back door. Two bullets ripped into the back wall, one only a foot from his face. He closed the door and propped a chair against it, too. Then he stood in the middle of the room, looking around him, his mind deep in thought. Then he helped Mary to her feet and told her to check on Billy. When she returned, she said;
“He has color in his cheeks and he’s breathing normally.”
“Then get down by the bed and don’t stand up again until I tell you to. If something happens to me, I want you to run and keep on runnin’.”
When Mary walked over to the bed, Halliday said;
“I think Billy will make it. But we can’t do anythin’ more for him now. Time will be his healer. So stay there until the shooting’s over.”
He reloaded his guns and strode determinedly to the front door. He removed the chair, having decided that to stay here was only delaying the inevitable.
He recalled how little fight Dorgan’s men had displayed. Until his arrival, perhaps they’d had things too easy. He hoped they’d show as much fight now.
Halliday pulled the door open as two riders appeared on his right, keeping low in their saddles. He stepped outside and pumped off two quick shots. One man yelped in pain and turned his horse away, then the second man sat upright, his eyes wide with fear when he saw the blood on his pard’s chest.
Halliday took aim and fired. The bullet hit the second man high in the shoulder, knocking him out of his saddle. The man hit the ground hard and rolled, stumbled to his feet and broke into a shambling run, his hand trying to stem the flow of blood.
Halliday watched the man go, then stood there looking left then right, waiting for the gun smoke to clear. Then from inside, he heard Mary call;
“Are you all right, Mr. Halliday?”
“Yes. Now stay down.”
“Billy’s starting to moan. I think I’d better take a look at him.”
“You can’t do a thing to help him now, ma’am.”
Just then, another three riders emerged from the timber to Halliday’s left. When they were halfway across the clearing, another three appeared on his right.
Halliday waited for them to ride closer and then, when he sensed their bullets would start heading his way, he ran zigzagging from the house.
He made it safely to the water trough and crouched behind it, took careful aim at the middle man of the three closest to him and emptied both guns. He then dropped behind the trough and reloaded his guns.
That first volley of gunshots had split the attackers on his left. He rose again and emptied his guns at the trio on his right.
He noticed a cowhand suddenly straighten in the saddle and drop from his horse. He was still rolling when the other two retreated back out of six-gun range. Halliday quickly reloaded and ran back to the cabin.
He went straight on through to the back and kicked the chair away from the door and strode out into the sunlight. As he’d expected, Buchanan and two riders were coming on hard toward the cabin. Halliday saw that Buchanan was bleeding from a shoulder wound as he fired, crouched, and fired again.
Buchanan’s companions broke away but the big man rode on until he suddenly realized he was on his own. He savagely pulled his horse to a halt and began to turn it, firing aimlessly at the same time.
Halliday held his fire until Buchanan was facing him. He then dropped hammer, the bullet taking Buchanan in the middle of his chest. His mouth flew open and his horse reared, throwing him over its rump to the ground. After several seconds he rolled onto his stomach and slowly tried to get to his feet.
Through pain-seared eyes, Buchanan tried to lift his gun. But his arm was weak and the gun was heavy. Twice he tried to lift the gun again ... and twice more he failed. Then a short gasp came from him and the gun fell from his fingers. He looked down at it, all his strength gone. Then blood trickled from his lips and down his chin. He fell on his face and didn’t move.
Halliday went back inside and waited. At least ten minutes passed before he saw riders in single file disappear into the mouth of the gully. He pushed fresh bullets into the chambers from his gunbelt, wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve and walked inside to find Mary standing beside Billy’s bunk, tears running down her cheeks.
Halliday went to her and put an arm around her shoulders. When she turned to look at him, he held her close and said; “It’s all right, ma’am. They’ve gone.”
Mary rested her head against his chest and sobbed, clinging tightly to him, her body molded to his. Halliday could smell the sweet scent of pine in her hair. Then, finally, she wiped the tears away, looked up at him and said;
“Please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. You’re safe now, ma’am.”
When he felt her body tremble, he held her tightly again and kissed her forehead. She looked up at him, her moist lips inviting him to kiss her. After a long, lingering embrace, Halliday finally stepped away from her and said;
“I’ll check on Billy. Now they’ve gone, there might be somethin’ more we can do for him.”
Mary went to the stove to heat more water while Halliday checked on Billy and went out to the clearing once more. He saw two dead men on the ground out front, and heat shimmers hanging in the air as a deep, deathly silence settled over the cabin.