CHAPTER XV

 

CRACKLING ECHOES OF the single gunshot brought Jim Brand’s eyes open, closed his hand instinctively over the butt of the gun under his blanket-pillow, and tensed all his muscles.

He was in darkness. Tossing the blanket aside, he rolled to his feet and jerked the door open. Nothing was in sight in the hallway. He cocked the revolver. Wind howled around the building and then, abruptly, Lutz’s leather-throated roar of curses burst forth from the barroom.

Brand pointed himself and his gun that way and trotted on silent feet down the corridor while a couple of hallway doors popped open and heads came out—Andrews and Elias. Brand reached the end of the corridor and stopped.

His view was blocked by the half-closed door; all he could see was the fireplace and the long puncheon table, and no people were in sight. He pushed the door back with his toe and stepped forward. All the while, Lutz’s torrid stream of curses had continued unabated.

When he stepped into the room, Brand saw Lutz standing near the foot of the stairs. Michaela was halfway up the staircase, but Lutz was looking back across Brand, and when he turned that way he saw Billy McCasford behind the bar with a gun in his fist.

Lutz kept right on mouthing oaths, and Brand said sharply, “Shut up, damn it.”

Lutz was not a man given to taking orders. He continued to curse, only now Brand heard his own name mentioned in the run of it; the targets of Lutz’s abuse included both McCasford and the girl.

Brand turned and trained his own gun on Lutz’s wide chest and said, “Shut up.”

Looking down the muzzle of the revolver, Lutz quieted down.

Brand said, “All right. Anybody hurt?”

“Just Wayne’s feelings,” Michaela said. There was a cold smile on her cheeks.

“What happened?”

McCasford holstered his gun and came around from behind the bar. “Lutz went after the girl.”

“Who appointed you her protector?”

“I did,” Michaela said.

Brand looked up at her and felt an instant stinging disappointment in his bowels; he said nothing of it. “Judas,” he said disgustedly. “I didn’t figure it to start this soon. Lutz, go on back to your room.”

“Not until I take care of a little matter.”

“Such as?”

“That hairpin took a shot at me.”

“If I’d been shooting at you,” McCasford said heatedly, “I wouldn’t have missed. It was a warning, friend—leave the girl be.”

Behind him, Brand felt weight in the doorway. Elias was there, in his pants and long-handled underwear, armed with his omnipresent knife. Elias looked around and grinned, turned away and went back down the corridor. His door slammed.

Brand said to Lutz, “I’d like to live through this storm in one piece, if you don’t mind. It won’t help any of us to start chewing on each other. McCasford, you keep your gun in leather from now on—and, Lutz, stay clear of the girl unless she asks for you.”

“Who are you to be givin’ orders?” Lutz blustered.

“A man with a gun,” Brand drawled.

“That don’t swing too much weight in this part of the Territory, Brand.”

“Your power won’t buy you much in this house,” Brand answered. “Not tonight, anyway. Get back to bed.”

A dismal gleam of hatred grew and lay steady behind Lutz’s flashing eyes. It didn’t take much to make an enemy of him. He wheeled abruptly and stamped back into the corridor. “You, too,” Brand said to McCasford.

McCasford threw a questioning glance at the girl, and when after a moment’s thought she nodded. McCasford took his hand away from his gun and turned through the doorway. In a moment two doors closed.

Brand regarded the girl bleakly. “You can cause a lot of grief,” he said. “Maybe it would be better if you stayed put in your room until this blows over.”

“Not in my own house,” she said flatly. She hesitated a moment, then came down the stairs to face him from six feet distant. “Give orders to the others if you want. I’m not one of your command, Jim.”

It was the first time she had used his Christian name. Puzzled, he regarded her with brow-lowered eyes. He said, “You’ve put your drug in that kid. You knew he was soft on you to begin with—now you’ve set him up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s willing to stand between you and anything, if it’s what you want. All it took was the right word from you. You’ve put him in a spot. Don’t you care what happens to him?”

“I care,” she said. “That’s one reason I did this. He’s got to learn to stand up on his hind legs again. If it takes guts to stand up for me, then so much the better—he’ll remember quick enough how to take care of himself, when he has to. It might do him a lot of good.”

“And it might get him killed,” Brand said.

She shrugged her supple shoulders. “We all take that chance, every day. By the way, I notice in all your concern for the kid you didn’t mention the spot I put you in—I saw the way Lutz looked at you.”

“I can look out for myself,” he said gruffly, still watching her with a steady speculation.

She matched the even quality of his glance and in a moment she said, “Maybe I made a mistake.”

“About what?”

“Maybe I could have trusted you, after all, instead of pulling the kid into this. It can get dirty, maybe, and there’s no sense in dragging him into it. He’s got enough to worry about.”

“But you thought you couldn’t trust me, and you turned to him. Is that it?”

“That’s it.” Her head tilted a little to one side. “Tell me something.”

“All right.”

“What do you believe in?”

He looked down and away. “I wish you hadn’t asked me that one.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been trying to find the answer to it myself.”

“Well,” she observed, “if you’re still looking for it, then it’s not too late.”

“You’re a pretty wise lady,” he told her.

She grinned brashly. “It’s the Indian in me.”

“Yeah,” he said absent-mindedly. “All the way up here through the storm I was trying to figure out the answer to that question—why was I fighting like a cornered cougar? It would have been easy to he down and freeze to death. It’s a comfortable way to die. But I didn’t want it that way. I wanted to live—and now I’ve got to figure out what I wanted to live for, you see?”

“Maybe you’ll figure it out,” she said. Abruptly, then, she swayed forward. “Do you want to kiss me?”

He recognized the coquette in her and in spite of the swift change between them he played the game. “Why should I want to kiss you?”

Her reaction was unexpected; her eyes darkened and her frown lowered and suddenly her hand whipped up and slapped his face, rocking his head back.

Surprised, he said, “What’s that for?”

“I’ve wanted to do it all day.”

He laughed. “All right,” he said, and pulled her forward and kissed her, at first savagely and then gently, as a new feeling swept through him. His hands slid slowly down to the small of her back and he pressed her to him.

When she drew her head back she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

“Maybe it was the smart thing to do. Nobody’s certain I’m good for anything.”

“I’m certain,” she said, “now.”

Wind rattled something above. The fire was a big red warmth. He glanced at the doorway to the corridor and, just then, a new mystery occurred to him. The girl must have noticed his frown; she asked him a question and in answer he said, “When the kid fired that shot, I came down the hall. Andrews and Elias put their heads out—but George Zane didn’t. Why not?”

“Maybe he’s a sound sleeper.”

Thinking of the marshal’s face—the look of an old gray wolf—Brand doubted it. “I’d better have a look,” he said, and turned back toward the door. The girl followed him that far and waited.

He went down the hall to the second door, which was Zane’s, and knocked softly. There was no response. Not wishing to wake the others, he pushed the door and found it open. He stepped inside and said quietly, “Zane?”

After a silent interval he found a match and scratched in a light on the wall. Zane was lying rolled in his blankets, his face toward the ceiling, eyes closed.

In a suspicious frame of mind, Brand walked forward and knelt by the man. Zane’s breathing was steady but very shallow; his flesh was pale in the flickering match-light. Presently Brand found the swelling of a large bruise on his forehead at the hairline.

The man had obviously been struck a vicious blow on the head, and left for dead.