LEM PRITCHARD SLOWLY stirred, feeling his face and bringing his hand away that now had blood on it. Then his glazed stare hardened and his mouth set in tight lines. Watching from the jailhouse chair with his boots up on the desk, Buck Halliday said easily;
“You sure do take some convincing, Sheriff.”
An angry snarl came to Pritchard’s lips, but when his body jerked upright, Halliday lifted a hand.
“Take it easy. If we keep hammerin’ away at each other like this, there might not be anyone left to fight the bad guys.”
Pritchard rubbed the back of his neck, eyes full of menace. He looked around the jailhouse, glad to find no one else in it. Then his hand moved instinctively to his hip only to discover that his gunbelt was missing. He shifted into a more comfortable position and again sleeved blood from his face. A dull ache pounded just above his eyes, reminding him of Halliday’s uppercut.
“I’ve taken you too lightly three times now, mister. I won’t do it again.”
“Maybe we should talk, Sheriff. Strikes me you’ve got enough troubles without me adding to ’em.”
“Talk ... about what? Your past maybe?”
“That’d be as good a place as any to start, I reckon. You got any questions?”
“A hundred of them, dammit!”
“Fire away.”
“For one, who the hell are you? And don’t lie to me about you bein’ just a drifter. You’re too damned handy with your fists and you use that gun like it’s part of you.”
“I am a drifter, Sheriff. But one who can handle himself. Get this straight—I don’t go around lookin’ for trouble, but if it comes, I don’t run away from it. I just drift along minding my own business and ask only that other people mind theirs.”
“You call lettin’ that boy loose minding your own business?” Pritchard exploded.
“The boy was tied down while his pa was dragged off by a crazed mob and hanged. How could you let that happen?”
“I didn’t let it happen!”
Halliday’s eyebrows arched in surprise.
“I’d been outta town on business and the first I knew about any trouble was when I saw a bunch of men draggin’ Jake Birch up that hill. When I got there I was told by several eyewitnesses that Jake had killed Rudy Cavanagh cold.”
“Were you told by Denton’s hired hands?” Halliday asked.
“Yes, but most of the people there were townsfolk, and they were as keen to see Jake dance rope as anyone else.”
“You go along with mob rule, Sheriff?”
“The hell I do.”
“Then why didn’t you stop them?”
“I tried but there were too many of them. Then when Nathan arrived, things got outta everyone’s control. Then you showed.”
“You didn’t seem overly concerned by Nathan’s killing,” he said sharply.
“Wrong. I was mad and determined to take charge. If you hadn’t killed Jude Cassidy, he’d still be locked up in one of my cells awaiting trial.”
“So why did you get all steamed up and come after me?”
Pritchard rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand. “You tried to humiliate me in front of this town. What would you have done?”
Halliday leaned back in his chair, half-inclined to believe the man.
“So it comes down to both of us slipping up, eh?”
“In your case, you’re spot on, Halliday. I don’t have to answer to every drifter who comes ridin’ through this town.”
“How about to Sharon Creevey?” Halliday asked easily.
“What the hell has she got to do with anything?” Pritchard growled.
“She stands behind you and doesn’t care who knows it.” When Pritchard looked surprised, Halliday added;
“She’s told me to leave so that I don’t cause you more trouble. Seems she’s worried that if we lock horns again, you might come out with more than a few bruises.”
Pritchard looked confused.
“Why don’t we leave the lady outta this?”
“Glad to. What about the shooting in the saloon?”
“I told you all I know.”
“You didn’t set me up?”
“I don’t work that way.”
Halliday dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. He turned his back on Pritchard and came out from behind the desk. As he did so, he lifted a gunbelt from the floor and tossed it across the room.
“Here’s what we do now,” he said, putting on his hat. He was in front of the desk now, watching the lawman strap on his gun rig. “You check on who shot up the stage, and I’ll get myself somethin’ to eat and think about moving on.”
The reminder of the stage shoot-up made Pritchard scowl again, and he flicked a glance toward the front door. Outside, in the first hour of a warm sunup, the town was still quiet.
“You askin’ me to drop everythin’ I got agin you, Halliday?”
“You pushed the issue each time, Sheriff. I’m here just to make sure you understand I’ve got nothing against you. I figure you’ve got more troubles on your hands than you can rightly handle. When everything settles down, maybe you should take a closer look at a woman who thinks you’re a better man than you’ve appeared to be so far.”
Halliday moved to the door, aware that his words had got through. He was sure the sheriff was more than willing to bury the hatchet ... at least for now.
As he walked through the doorway, Larraine Rushton came hurrying up the boardwalk.
Still reflecting on what Halliday had to say, Pritchard had followed him outside, but when he saw the young and beautiful widow approaching, all thoughts of Halliday left his mind. Taking off his hat, he said;
“I’m real sorry for what happened, ma’am. If there’s anythin’ at all I can do—”
“You want to help now?” Larraine snapped, her eyes red from crying.
Pritchard’s face reddened. “There’s things that happen that no man can foresee or be prepared for.”
He looked anxiously at Halliday, but Halliday was coolly rolling a cigarette while watching the young woman. City or frontier girl, the breeding was there, in the finely-chiseled features, arrogant lift of the head and firm control of her emotions.
“This town, Sheriff, hanged my father and shot down my brother. Your town!”
Pritchard licked his lips and again looked sheepishly in Halliday’s direction—with the same result. Swearing under his breath, he straightened, determined not to shoulder any blame.
“I’m right sorry about what’s happened, ma’am. I was outta town when all the trouble started. But as soon as I heard about it, I did my level best to—”
“Your level best was pathetically inadequate, Sheriff. I suggest you get out of my sight before I forget that my father always taught me to respect the law and the people administering it.”
Larraine pushed him aside, took a handkerchief from her bag and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Then she saw Halliday leaning against an upright.
“Mr. Halliday, I have to thank you, not only for helping me personally last night, but also for trying to help Nathan after that mob hanged my father. I was impressed by the way you handled things last night and Miss Creevey has informed me that you are the only person in this town I should completely trust.”
“Trust to do what, ma’am?” Halliday asked, pinching out his cigarette before flicking it into the street.
“First, I have to see that my father and Nathan are buried. Then I plan to pay a visit on a man named Denton.”
Halliday scratched his jaw. “That feller’s a pretty tough customer, ma’am.”
“I am a woman on my own and I know my limitations. Miss Creevey has already told me not to expect any support. Apparently everyone is terrified of this man.” She studied Halliday intently, her chin lifted and her mouth set firmly. “But I can assure you, I’m not in the least bit frightened of him and intend to fight him every way I can. My late husband was a wealthy man and has left me more than enough to settle my father’s debts and retain the property he died trying to keep. I will not be intimidated.”
“Then I wish you luck, ma’am,” Halliday said.
“Luck will have nothing to do with it, Mr. Halliday. Will you help me?”
Halliday glanced at Pritchard. The lawman couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Let’s have the burials first, ma’am, then maybe we’ll see about the other.”
The widow pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders, then turned to Pritchard.
“Can you direct me to the undertaker’s office, Sheriff?”
“Up near the stage depot, ma’am,” Pritchard said, pointing up the street.
Already the wind was lifting so much dust it formed a screen between the town and the open prairie beyond.
“Man in charge is Craig Newly.”
“Thank you,” Larraine said crisply.
Halliday nodded at the young woman, and together they strode off up the street. Neither one spoke until they entered the wide-fronted office where they found a tall, stoop-shouldered, gray-haired man in shirtsleeves and patched Levi’s holding a hammer in one hand and plucking nails from his mouth with the other.
Newly studied his visitors before he put the hammer down and reached for his frock coat that hung on a wall hook just inside the door.
After donning the coat and buttoning it carefully, his long face became completely expressionless, and he said, bowing slightly;
“I’m at your service, ma’am.”
Larraine opened her handbag and drew out a roll of bills. “Two coffins, Mr. Newly. The best you have.”
Newly glanced calmly at Halliday, then pointed behind him. “I’ve been up working all night. I’m very sorry about your loss. Jake was a fine man and you should be proud of Nathan.”
“Thank you, Mr. Newly,” Larraine said, glancing behind him. “It’s nice to know someone in this town cares.”
Four coffins sat side by side on a long work bench against the wall.
“Four?” Halliday asked.
“Mr. Denton looks after his men, too,” Newly said.
At the mention of Jay Denton’s name, Larraine’s eyes misted over. Then she quickly regained her composure.
“Mr. Halliday will be acting on my behalf. I’d like the service to start as soon as you’re ready.”
“I can be ready in the hour,” Newly said, face still expressionless. “Do you wish me to arrange mourners?”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Newly.”
The funeral service was brief, and throughout the whole proceedings, Buck Halliday had not seen a hint of sorrow in Larraine Rushton’s eyes. But as soon as the mourners had left, and she stood looking down on the two fresh mounds of dirt, tears welled in her eyes and her lips started to quiver. Then, after a long moment’s struggle with her emotions, her shoulders slumped and her clasped hands began to tremble.
“I will do anything to punish the men who killed them, Mr. Halliday.”
“It won’t be easy, ma’am.”
“I owe it to them. Now, if you’ll please give me a few minutes on my own ...”
Halliday turned and made his way back to town. He had gone no more than fifty yards when she caught up with him—dry-eyed and determinedly serene.
“I know you don’t belong here, Mr. Halliday, but I don’t want you to leave just yet. I’ll pay double whatever a man like you could earn on a task like this.”
“To do what, ma’am?”
“To ride to my ranch and help me put things in order. I am a city girl, but in the circumstances, I want to learn as much as I can about farm life. I intend to stay, at least for the time being, and Jay Denton is not about to push me around.”
“What Denton’s done so far, he’s done strictly within the law.”
Larraine eyed him sourly. “My father told me what was going on here, Mr. Halliday. I had written back telling him I was bringing the money he needed. Surely Denton—”
“Denton’s not interested in money. He wants land, and as much of it as he can get. Nothing your father did after the payment was overdue could have influenced Denton in any way. He wanted the land and that’s why he forced your father off.”
“He not only forced him off, Mr. Halliday, he had him hanged. Do you expect me to forget that?”
“No, I certainly don’t. I’ve seen this same thing in so many other towns. People like Denton seem to pop up everywhere. They push people around until they go too far ... and they always do. They’re greedy, and their greed ultimately brings them down. The same thing will happen here ... in the end. You just have to be careful that he doesn’t have you killed, too.”
“You think he’ll try that?” Larraine asked quickly.
“If he doesn’t get what he wants, there’s no tellin’ what he might do.”
“That’s why I want to hire you. You just have to name your price.”
Halliday scrubbed a tired hand across the back of his neck. “What I’m tryin’ to tell you, ma’am, is that it might be best for you to keep your husband’s money and head back to where you came from. Staying here can only bring you more trouble.”
“You telling me to run?”
“Running sometimes is the best way out,” he muttered, and started to walk.
She followed him, then stopped.
Halliday continued on until he saw the sheriff riding toward him, looking thoughtful but determined.
“So?” Pritchard growled from the saddle.
“I’ll see you around, Sheriff.”
“You’re leavin’?”
“Nothin’ to keep me here,” Halliday replied easily.
Pritchard’s stare went up the street to Larraine. “Not even her?”
“I’ve told her it would be best if she left, too. Like the rest of you should. How’d the stage driver make out?”
“He didn’t.”
“He give you any names?”
Pritchard shook his head. “He didn’t regain consciousness.”
The lawman’s horse pranced impatiently under him, and Pritchard sawed on the reins to quieten it.
“I’ll write you how it all pans out, Halliday, if you leave a forwardin’ address. Guess you’d like to know the outcome, eh, after all the trouble you’ve caused?”
“Not really,” Halliday told him, striding away and leaving Pritchard glaring after him.
Halliday turned into the saloon, strangely restless, to find Jim Hanover and a group of ranchers huddled together at the far end of the counter. Wanting to be on his own, Halliday settled himself at the opposite end. When he had a whiskey in front of him, he eyed the saloon owner intently.
“What happens to you when Denton ties up this town?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It won’t take him long to figure that the profits you’re making would be better in his pocket than in yours.”
Ike Creevey scowled and rubbed the bar top vigorously with his cloth. “I’m not scared of Denton, not like some folks I know. Nor do I run. The way I see it, Denton’s been allowed too much rein. So far nobody’s tried to pin his ears back.”
“Why haven’t you tried?”
Creevey looked up sharply. “Because I’m a barkeep and so far he’s done nothing wrong. So why don’t you leave me be?”
When the barman stormed away, Halliday finished his drink and slipped his change into his pocket. He spared a glance at the stairway where the section of railing was still missing. Somebody had put that gun hand up to taking a shot at him—if not Lem Pritchard ... then who?
He walked slowly toward the back door, feeling the hard stares of the customers burning into his back. Nobody spoke to him or tried to stop him leaving. He went out into the yard, saddled his horse and rode out into the hot sun. He was about to heel his sorrel into a run when a laden buckboard came down the narrow alley with a bent-shouldered man in the driving seat, a slim, weather-aged woman at his side and a skinny child cradled in her arms. Then Jim Hanover came running out of the saloon, calling out;
“Jed, not you, too?”
Halliday drew rein as Hanover stopped alongside the buckboard, one hand on the rump of the horse, the other on the weather-whitened side of the driving seat.
“Denton?” Hanover asked.
The driver nodded grimly.
“I didn’t know you owed him, too, Jed. You always boasted you’d see him in hell before you had to borrow a cent from him.”
“Things kept pilin’ up on me, Jim, and with Chrissy ailin’, I had no choice. I signed everythin’ over this mornin’.”
“You get a good price?”
“Nobody gets a good price from Denton ... you know that.” A lot of the tiredness had disappeared from the man’s features as he dismounted and moved to the head of the horse.
“There’s other places, Jim, and other times. We’ll stay here the night and move out come sunup. I’ll have a last drink with you inside as soon as I get Millie and Chrissy settled.”
Hanover sucked down a quick breath, then banged his fist against the side of the buckboard. He turned and was about to walk back into the saloon but stopped just short of Halliday and appeared to be on the point of saying something, when he lowered his eyes and strode inside instead.
Halliday walked his sorrel past the buckboard, gave Jed a nod, but said nothing. Settlers took their chances, knew they had to fight impossible odds to survive. He’d known few to cry over their misfortunes and none who regarded sympathy with anything but scorn.