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“FLATTEN HIM!” STEM roared.
Carter faced Walter Faulk, his arms held out ready to grab his opponent the second he moved toward him, but Walter stayed back and started circling him with deliberate paces. It was five hours after the impromptu fight in the trading post, and the hands from the Wayne and Marriott ranches had gathered at a shack on the border of both ranches’ land.
They had marked out a circle in the center of the shack and formed groups on either side of the circle, each around a barrel of beer. Then each ranch had selected eight men to fight one on one, after which the victors would eliminate each other in a process that would leave only one man standing victorious.
The only reward to the victor – the honor of working for the best ranch. So far, the two fights had both gone to Marriott’s ranch hands, but the luck of the draw had paired Carter with the shortest of the potential opponents.
Walter circled, but then Carter darted for him, aiming to wrap his arms around his opponent’s chest and bundle him to the ground, but Walter ducked under Carter’s grasping hands and slammed his shoulder into Carter’s stomach. Walter stood tall, meaning to hurl the larger man over his shoulders.
Carter’s momentum almost carried him over Walter’s back, but he jammed a foot in the ground and secured his footing. Then, instead of Walter throwing him over his shoulder, he wrapped both arms around his opponent’s chest and held him bent double.
Carter rolled to the left, to the right, and then bore down on Walter to knock him flat. Walter tried to twist as he fell, but Carter had a firm grip and his opponent’s face slammed into the dirt, marking the end of this fight with victory to Carter.
Carter stood up and paraded in a circle around Walter. With the cheering from his side and the booing from the other side resounding in his ears, he pulled the vanquished man to his feet and slapped him on the back, knocking him forward a pace toward his own men.
He walked back to his fellow ranch hands. Stem slapped his shoulder as he passed and then entered the ring to face Orem, his opponent. Carter swapped handshakes with each ranch hand before he joined Lee for further congratulations.
“Are you sorry not to be fighting?” Carter asked, still grinning wildly.
Lee shrugged. “Sort of, but even Walter’s bigger than—”
A huge roar sounded around them. They turned to find that Stem had flattened Orem within seconds of the bout starting, and now stood with a foot rested on Orem’s back, his arms raised above his head.
Beneath him, Orem tried to squirm away from this indignity, but Stem didn’t release his foot until the cheering on his side waned. Then he dragged Orem to his feet and with a mighty slap, pushed him to the Marriott side of the shack.
Stem swaggered back to his side, his fellow ranch hands cheering his every step. He joined Carter and shook his hand.
“We’re getting a winning run now,” Carter said.
“Yup.” Stem slapped his belly. “We’ll show those Marriott boys which ranch is best.”
Carter leaned toward Stem. “I’ve got to ask. Aside from their obvious smugness, why do we hate Marriott’s ranch hands?”
Stem sighed as the new fight started between Dave and Talbot.
“It wasn’t always like this. Alistair and Lorne used to tolerate each other. We ranched this area in peace and built two of the finest ranches in the state, but ever since they found the silver load, they’ve done nothing but feud.”
Carter lowered his head for a moment. “It isn’t my place to say this, but the Wayne ranch isn’t that fine. Back on our farm, we couldn’t afford much, but it was a whole lot finer than Wayne’s ranch.”
Stem ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “It used to be fine ranch, but you’re right, it isn’t fine now. As soon as Lorne found silver, the thought of those shining nuggets drove away his interest in ranching.”
“But not Marriott?”
“Nope. He ranched and mined with equal vigor. That was bad enough, but a few months ago Lorne lost all interest in everything, and since then he’s even stopped me maintaining the poor remnants of the ranch we have left. It’s almost as if he wants it to collapse.” Stem shrugged. “So all we’ve got left now is to hate the Marriott boys.”
“It’s two fights all.” Carter nudged Stem in the ribs. “I reckon that our luck is changing.”
Carter was wrong. For the next half-hour, his and Stem’s victory were their only consolation, as win after win went to Marriott’s ranch hands. For the last of the first round of fights, the ranch foreman, Elliott Jameson, strutted into the circle.
He stood in the middle with his hands on his hips and a smirking grin plastered across his face. Mitchell staggered into the circle to face him, but after the dinnertime drinking and further drinking in the shack, he was fighting a losing battle to stay upright.
In a shaking line, Mitchell wended toward Elliott and swayed to a halt. He squared off to him. Then, even though punching wasn’t allowed and he was a good ten feet away from Elliott, he lunged a punch at him.
He only succeeded in throwing himself flat on his face. Elliott roared with laughter, slapping his thighs and stamping his feet as his colleagues joined him and exaggerated their mirth.
“That’s the fastest fight I’ve ever seen,” he said between laughs. “It ended before it even started.”
Wayne’s ranch hands lowered their heads, muttering at this humiliation, but Lee got to his feet and with the blood pounding in his skull, he stormed into the circle. He stepped over Mitchell’s snoring form and faced up to Elliott.
“If the fight was over before it began, I reckon there’s still a fight to be had,” he said.
“You?” Elliott chuckled, receiving a wave of snorts and laughing.
Lee spat on his hands. “Yeah.”
Several of Marriott’s ranch hands shouted their objection, but Elliott raised a hand, silencing them.
“I reckon if the little man wants some sense knocked into him, I can oblige.” Elliott licked his lips. “With no punching, gouging, or kicking, how does a man as small as you reckon he’ll slam my face into the dirt?”
As Stem and Carter dragged Mitchell out of the circle, Lee rolled his shoulders and took the longest pace he could manage toward Elliott.
“You’re about to find out.”
Elliott shrugged. He retreated, beckoning Lee on, and Lee followed, keeping back from Elliott’s superior grasping range while waiting for an opening. Elliott backed away another pace, but then his right foot slipped and, taking this as his chance, Lee charged him.
Quicker than Lee expected, Elliott righted himself and met his charge with a strong forearm, which he hammered into Lee’s cheek, knocking him on to his back. Lee scrambled back, expecting Elliott to pounce on him and finish the bout immediately, but his opponent just walked around him, shaking his head.
Lee rose to his feet and dashed at Elliott, his head down and his arms waving in a berserk action that he hoped would confuse him, but his opponent just grabbed both Lee’s arms and held them up. Then he gripped both his wrists in one hand.
With his free hand, Elliott reached down, took hold of Lee’s right knee and hoisted the man aloft. With cheering sounding from behind him, Elliott held Lee above his head and spun him around and around.
Just as the dizziness forced a screech from Lee, he threw him down. Lee hit the ground and rolled, sliding to a halt in a cloud of dust. He shook his head, trying to free the sickness in his gut and the numbness in every limb.
He then levered himself up on a shaking arm. He was facing his fellow ranch hands. They directed multiple shrugs and headshakes at him. In their midst, Stem also shook his head.
“Stay down,” Stem mouthed.
Lee snorted and hurled himself to his feet. He stood for a moment, swaying from the dizziness, and then turned and charged at Elliott, flailing his arms as he fought for more speed.
Elliott stood his ground, his hands raised like claws, ready to repel him, but at the last moment, Lee dove to the ground, slipping under Elliott’s lunge for him and right through his legs. Even as he slid to a halt, he slammed both hands together and chopped them into the back of his opponent’s right knee.
Elliott’s leg flexed, knocking him to the side, and Lee encouraged the fall by grabbing his leg and hoisting him over. Elliott landed heavily on his side. Lee leaped on his opponent and rolled him on to his front.
Elliott shook his head and tried to buck Lee, but his effort was weak, and Lee thrust all his might into grinding Elliott’s forehead into the dirt before he regained his strength. Elliott’s forehead closed to within a bare inch of the dirt.
Lee strained to push him that last inch, but then Elliott slipped a hand from under his chest and a gut-wrenching pain turned Lee’s insides to water. He fell away, unable to control his movements.
Elliott rolled to his knees, and with a mere flick of the wrist, rolled Lee over. While whistling a merry tune, Elliott extended two fingers, placed them on the back of Lee’s head and dunked his forehead in the dirt.
Elliott stood up and bowed to his side, receiving riotous applause, and then swaggered away from Lee. Carter dashed to Lee’s side and helped him sit up.
“What happened?” he said. “You were winning.”
“Winning isn’t that important,” Lee gasped, nursing his pain. “After what Elliott just did to me, I’m just wondering whether I can still have children.”
Carter winced. “That’s illegal.”
“It’s painful, too.” Lee held up a hand and let Carter drag him to his feet. Doubled over, he staggered back to his side. “Watch out for Elliott. He fights dirty.”
“That’s no problem.” Stem shrugged. “You’ve just got to fight dirtier than he does.”
With only Carter and Stem winning in the first round of bouts, the six winning men from Marriott’s ranch huddled up and decided who their best fighters were. On the other side of the circle, Stem warmed up for his next fight by winning a beer-drinking bout with Finch.
Carter leaned toward Lee. “You were an idiot fighting Elliott when you didn’t have to.”
“I did have to.” Lee rubbed his guts and drew Carter to the back wall of the shack. “I knew Elliott when I was a miner. He was a supervisor, and he was the meanest of them all. Anybody that stood up to him was just looking to be thrown out of the mine with a beating for their trouble. I just wanted to repay him for all the misery he dished out.”
“Why is a mine supervisor now Marriott’s ranch foreman?”
Lee shrugged. “I don’t know, but—”
“Come here, Carter,” Stem called.
Brady Sanders was striding into the circle, beckoning Carter to join him. Carter rolled his shoulders and turned from Lee.
“Get him,” Lee said, patting Carter on the back.
Carter slipped through the throng of backslapping ranch hands and faced up to Brady in the circle. Then he charged his opponent, seeking to flatten him with his first move. He slammed into him, pushing Brady back a pace, but Brady planted his foot firmly back and, using it as a pivot, hurled Carter to the ground over his shoulder.
Carter rolled, avoiding having his face hit the dirt, but when he stopped his roll, Brady leaped on him and bundled him over on to his front. With his feet planted on either side of Carter’s shoulders, Brady sat on the small of Carter’s back and grabbed his head in both hands.
Inch by inch, he forced Carter’s face toward the dirt. Carter strained, his neck muscles bunching as he halted his downward path. Then, inch by inch, he pushed his head back up. As the tussle reached a deadlock, Elliott walked around the circle to join Stem.
“It looks like it’ll just be you to fight for the honor of your ranch,” he said.
“Carter will win this,” Stem said, nodding toward the circle.
With his face now a good foot from the ground, Carter flexed his back and tried to buck Brady away, but his opponent just lifted slightly from Carter’s back, the movement having failed. As Carter slumped down again, Brady hurled his feet up to crash down with all his weight on Carter’s shoulders, slamming his face into the dirt.
Stem winced as Brady held his hands above his head and then stood up. Brady waved in all directions, and then leaned down and pulled Carter to his feet. Lee hurried into the ring and helped Carter back to his side.
“Like I said, it’s just down to you and me,” Elliott said, sneering at Stem.
Stem rolled his shoulders. “I’m looking forward to it. Ranch foreman against ranch foreman should sort out plenty of things.”
“Do you want to make this the best of three?” Elliott rubbed his chin and chuckled. “Grinding your face into the dirt just the once won’t satisfy me.”
“We stick to the same rules, except, in the morning, you’ll have a mighty sore head.”
“Marriott’s boys aren’t the only ones who’ll have sore heads,” a voice boomed, echoing through the shack.
When Elliott’s mouth fell open and stayed open, Stem turned. His gaze rose until it reached the densely bearded face of the huge man who had set his tree-trunk thick legs astride in the doorway. Guns rested on both hips of this huge man, but his wide hands gripped the sides of the doorway.
“Abe Mountain, is it you?” Elliott said. “Alistair said you were dead.”
Abe took two huge swaggering strides into the shack. He nodded, his wild beard rising and falling from his chest.
“Alistair probably said lots of things,” he said. “It doesn’t mean they’re true.”
Stem walked away from Elliott to stand before Abe.
“Lorne Wayne said the same,” he said. “He said a landslide had trapped you in the mine.”
With his vast hands set on his hips, Abe loomed over Stem.
“Do you reckon they were right?”
As everyone in the shack shuffled backward, Elliott strode forward showing none of the fear that had permeated the shack. He stopped in front of Abe, appearing like a child standing before an adult.
“I for one am glad to see you,” he said. “Where have you been for the last three months?”
Abe ground his teeth, his beard swaying from side to side.
“I’d tired of the dust and the heat, so I headed south, but as it’s just as dusty and hot down there, too, I’m back.”
Matching Abe’s stance, Elliott placed his hands on his hips.
“We go back a long way. If I’d have known you were alive, I wouldn’t have given up working with you.”
Abe flashed his shining white teeth. “I believe you.”
Despite Elliott’s seeming confidence, he breathed a sigh of relief and tipped his hat.
“What do you want me to do?”
With a wide finger, Abe pointed back through the shack door at the rows of ranch hands.
“First up, come. . . .” Abe pointed at Waxman Franks, who was shuffling toward the door. “You used to work for Alistair.”
Waxman shuffled another pace and gulped. “I worked for Alistair, but I had nothing to do with his deal with Marshal Brown.”
Abe shrugged. “You had nothing to do with his deal, but you knew about a deal, which is more than I knew for sure ten seconds ago.”
In a blur Abe whirled his arms and took a gun in each hand, the weapons puny in those great hams. Waxman didn’t reach for his weapon in the instant it took Abe to draw, so he just winced, agog.
Abe grinned. “Are you going for you gun, or do I just kill you?”
Waxman gulped, and then whirled his arm. In an explosion of gunfire, Abe ripped two bullets straight through Waxman’s chest. Waxman wheeled back to land face down. Everyone else in the shack stood for a moment.
Then, in a shared moment of panic, they charged for the door. Those that couldn’t reach the door dashed for the only window, and the others broke through rotted planks until they gained their freedom.
Lee was one of the first to slip outside, using his small size to crawl through the legs of the group filling the doorway. He scurried away, but then skidded to a halt and hurried back to help prize Carter outside.
Then they ran for their horses. As the mayhem rippled around him, Abe just stood in the center of the shack, his huge legs set wide apart, booming his laughter. Elliott stood at his side, chuckling.
The two groups of ranch hands finally found a route outside and they ran for their horses, mounted them with frantic haste and galloped from the shack, heading for their respective ranches. The shack was now receding into the distance at a fast rate.
Abe and Elliott were heading outside to join another man who was waiting for them. They exchanged nods and then mounted their horses, but when they cantered down the trail, they headed toward the Marriott ranch. Despite his confusion at what had just happened, Lee sighed with relief and then concentrated on riding as fast as he could.