Halliday 8, page 8
Mann shrugged easily. “There’s been a lot of talk about the deal you’re about to make, Clayton. I know for a fact that most of Latimer’s crew would give their eyeteeth for the chance to get their hands on you and make you sign over your land to them. Now that Latimer’s dead, what’s to stop them from comin’ after you and givin’ you hell one way or another? I’d think about your niece’s safety first. Some of that crowd have had their eyes on her and they haven’t tried to hide it.”
Clayton stepped clear of the brush, looking tired and haggard. His eyes were red-rimmed and there was a slump to his narrow shoulders. His angry stare settled on Mann and he jerked the old rifle up higher.
“I don’t need your help to stop them scum from gettin’ to my Hope. The first one who shows his face anywhere near her will get it shot off. As for the rest of your fancy lingo, I don’t know whether to trust you of not. You got a way of provin’ what you just said, mister?”
Mann shook his head and then showed the old man his wounded wrist. “Latimer did that.”
“Who can back up what you say?”
“Nobody,” Mann said.
He picked up the reins and turned the horse side-on to Clayton. Looking down at Hope, he said;
“Miss Clayton, I’m sorry I failed to convince your uncle about my intentions. But I fully understand his suspicions. If you won’t let me help you, then at least take my advice. Get the hell away from here just as soon as you can. If you get caught up here, there’ll be no way out for you, but down in the flat country, there’s always a chance of somebody ridin’ by from Parson Falls.” Mann turned back to Clayton. “Will you hand me my gun?”
Clayton had already picked up the big gun. He held it thoughtfully in his left hand, weighing it carefully. The weight of the gun surprised him. He then tucked his rifle under his armpit and emptied the shells into his hand. Tossing the gun back, he said. “Now you git, young feller, and stay away from us. Maybe you mean well, but, by hell, I’ve got this far without help from anybody and I’ll go all the way into Parson Falls under my own steam, too. Now just you ride outta here and keep on goin’.”
“I’ll be in Parson Falls, if you need me,” Mann said, then he rode past Hope, giving her another friendly nod.
He was no more than twenty yards away and looking straight down into the heat-seared distance when she walked across to her uncle.
“What if he’s telling the truth, Uncle?” Hope said. “What if those other men are at this very moment closing in on us?”
“Then a few of ’em are gonna get buckshot where they won’t like it, girl. Now go see how the horse is doin’.”
“I’ve already checked on him, Uncle,” Hope told him, looking disturbed. “He’s exhausted and can’t go another step till morning.”
“It’s got to. We can’t camp out here, not with Mann knowin’ our whereabouts. Hell, it didn’t take him long to find our rig, did it? You reckon that don’t prove how sneaky he is? I tell you, he’s out to help nobody but himself, that one.”
“He’s hurt, Uncle,” Hope said as she watched the tall, straight-backed gun hand ride away.
Clayton snorted. “Sure he’s hurt. I’m hurt, a lot of other folks are hurt. He reckons Latimer shot him in the wrist. Well, from what I know of Aldo Latimer, he hasn’t the guts to tackle somebody like Rees Mann. I’m sayin’ it now, loud and clear—he’s lyin’. I don’t know what he’s up to, ridin’ in here and pretendin’ to offer us help. Maybe he figured on gettin’ us off our guard so he could jump me.”
Clayton fingered his unruly hair back and checked his rifle again. He then stormed back into the brush and made his way down to where the unharnessed horse stood, head down, almost out on its feet. He made a thorough study of its coat and condition. Then cursing under his breath, he returned to find his niece building a fire. He let out a deep sigh. “Might as well light it, girl, and to hell with the smoke. Mann knows where we are and maybe some others do, too. We’ll give them an open invitation ... but we won’t be here for the party.”
“What do you have in mind, Uncle?” Hope asked, seeing a gleam of cunning in the old-timer’s eyes.
“I got it in mind to drag the rig away, girl. It won’t be so damned hard going downhill. “Won’t have to go far, neither. Then we’ll put the horse in the shafts and let him rest the night. Come morning, I’ll drive him all the way to Parson Falls, even if it kills the both of us.”
Hope lifted her head and worked cramp from her neck and shoulders. The sun had burned her all that day and what she wanted most just then was a bath and then a long, uninterrupted sleep. She got the fire going and put on the coffeepot. Then, while her uncle checked the area for the best route to drag the rig, she made up their evening meal.
Zac Whelan packed salt on his butchered hand and wrapped a strip of old blanket around it. He then mounted his horse, let it drink from the creek while he fought to stop from crying out against the pain. If he had a gun, he doubted if he could use it.
Sweat ran in rivers down his face. Despite his pain and recurring waves of panic, his mind clung to the thought that Rees Mann was somewhere up ahead. He had to find him and tell him what had happened. Mann had ridden out before the fight was over, and Whelan hated him for that. But he admitted that the gunman had at least showed some sense. But he still felt that Mann should have stood his ground a little longer.
Suddenly, he felt terribly alone. He kept looking about him, imagining that at any moment, somebody—Buck Halliday most likely—would jump up out of the ground and finish him off. He had to stay alive, because one of these days he would get his revenge on Tim Shelvy. He’d watch the man suffer just like Shelvy had watched him.
The sun went down behind the western rim, and with the dusk came the cool air. He left the creek and followed the ruts left by the Clayton rig. The jolting of the horse under him caused him discomfort for the next hour, then darkness began to swallow up the range and he looked about for a place to make camp. He had just selected a flat piece of country surrounded by rocks and brush on three sides when he saw Rees Mann.
Mann was astride his horse under the shadows of a tall cottonwood. He had his gun in his holster and his hands were locked together on his saddle pommel. He looked completely relaxed as he studied Whelan, who drew rein, smothered a cry of pain, and said;
“Am I glad I caught up with you!”
Mann’s gaze shifted over the big man’s frame, taking in the empty holster, the bandaged hand, the brush-torn clothes and the pain-riddled face.
“I’m surprised to see you up here,” he said.
Whelan shuddered. “That Shelvy bunch fixed us up real good. Latimer’s dead, so there’s only you and me now.”
“What about Halliday?” Mann asked as Whelan rode up.
“He cut out on his own. I reckon I’m in front of him, but not by much.”
Whelan pulled his bandage off and showed Mann his ruined hand. After Mann studied it blandly, Whelan said;
“Shelvy did that to me. Hell, you’ve gotta help me get square with that bastard. I’ll get another gun and I’ll learn how to use it in my left hand. I know others who have done it.”
“I’ve heard that, too.”
Whelan’s eyes lit up. “Maybe one day some medic will be able to fix me up like new. We can still be a team. I’ll do anythin’ you say. Right now we can catch up with that old buzzard, get his deeds and still sell his place.”
Mann nodded calmly. Taking the man’s silence as a vague acceptance, Whelan brightened and said;
“We’ll make it. Could be we might even take the girl along with us, eh?”
“Now there’s a thought,” Mann said, then he turned his horse and looked back along the long trail he’d taken a half-hour ago. “You ready to ride?”
“Where?”
“Up there where Clayton and his niece have made camp. I checked on them earlier, but Clayton got the drop on me. I decided not to take any fool chances and to wait till morning before I approached them again. But now, waitin’ seems the wrong thing to do, what with you along to keep the girl busy while I take the old man out.”
Whelan licked nervously at his lips and hugged his hand to his chest. “I ain’t exactly up to handlin’ that hellcat. Maybe, like you said, we should wait till mornin’.”
“Time’s runnin’ out. If Clayton gets away tonight, he might make it all the way to Parson Falls. They got a fire goin’ but I figure it’s just to fool me. That old coot wouldn’t be that stupid to show the world where they are. We’ll ride in slow. When you sight the girl, make sure she doesn’t give us any trouble. Let’s go.”
Whelan wiped his face on his sleeve and was reminded again of the beating Halliday had given him. He knew he couldn’t achieve much on his own, but with Mann along, who knew …?
That settled in his mind, he followed Mann up the trail, his gaze continually searching for the first sign of life. Every nerve end seemed alive. Finally, they reached the fire which had all but burned down, when Whelan said;
“Looks like you’re right. Hell, workin’ with you is gonna be a breeze compared to workin’ with Aldo Latimer. That fat shoat didn’t know how to think things through. He made a heap of mistakes, and some I even warned him about. Only thing was, I didn’t know how you’d feel about anybody doin’ that.”
“Work your way up through the timber,” Mann told him. “You can see the tracks. Their horse would have to be spent, the way he’s been pushin’ it. If that’s so ... we’ll have them.”
Whelan made a careful inspection of the tracks and smiled in satisfaction. “Seems to me you could be right. That old codger got off here and was likely pulling it up the slope. Must be that his horse is out on its feet.” He looked about him and suddenly he remembered he was defenseless. “Clayton’s got that old rifle and the girl ain’t no slouch when it comes to usin’ a whip. I reckon we’d best be right careful from here on in. No tellin’ what they got planned for anybody tryin’ to jump ’em.”
“So go and see,” Mann said. “Clayton will hole-up where he can get the most protection. And just remember ... where Clayton is, you’ll find his niece.”
Whelan frowned heavily as he looked ahead. The silence unsettled him. There was only enough moonlight to throw distorted shadows over the landscape.
He walked his horse down the narrow trail, taking half an hour to reach the end of the long slope. He was about to ride into the moonlight when he saw a cluster of boulders just ahead and brush behind them thick enough to conceal a horse and rig.
He dismounted, finger-tipped sweat from his top lip and drew down a ragged breath. His nervousness was increasing by the minute and at each slight sound of wind-stirred brush, he gave a start. But the worst part for him was the absence of Rees Mann. He hadn’t sighted Mann for the last ten minutes.
He didn’t have a gun and had no clear idea of what might be in front of him. He was still trying to make a decision when a blast of gunfire broke the night’s stillness. He let out a sharp cry and bolted for the cover of the rocks. In so doing, he almost ran into a second rifle blast. He veered to the left, running as fast as his fat legs would carry him. On the way, he saw Hope crouched high on a rocky slope, moonlight gleaming off her long hair. He charged into the brush, tripped on a deadfall and fell. As soon as he hit the ground, he scrambled back to his feet. His hand hurt like crazy and having to hold it against his chest made his running awkward. But he trudged on, fear tugging at his senses.
It was only when he reached a point beyond the boulders and the brush and was about a hundred feet from where the young woman crouched, that he saw Rees Mann again.
To his relief, Mann was riding hard now, galloping his horse past the boulders.
Whelan stopped and drew down a deep breath. He was about to shout when he saw that Mann was coming straight at him. He leaned against a tree and decided to leave it all to him.
Mann could kill Clayton easily now and then there’d be only the girl.
Mann crossed a moonlit stretch and Whelan lifted his hand in greeting. Mann had his gun out. His gaze settled on Whelan and a thin smile twisted at the corners of his mouth.
Whelan frowned, not understanding what Mann had to grin about. Then Mann’s gun leveled on him. As a cry of disbelief rose to Whelan’s lips, Mann’s bullet slammed into his chest. Whelan’s body was nailed to the tree by the impact, and then a second bullet blew his chest open.
Chapter Eight – An Enemy Turned Friend
The only sound to be heard was the tramp of Dick Clayton’s boots on the hard ground.
Rees Mann saw him leave the cluster of rocks, step forward hesitantly, then hobble along the narrow trail and stop. The rifle in the old man’s hands jerked up and settled threateningly on his chest. Mann took little notice of it, turning his gaze to where Hope Clayton was standing, her face deep in thought. When Hope came up to her uncle’s side, Mann said;
“I heard the shots and knew Whelan was making trouble for you. I’d seen him from the ridge half an hour before, but I was too far from you to give you warnin’ and not close enough to him to stop him. Regardless of your refusal of my earlier offer, I just couldn’t let him ride through here. He was acting like a loon, the way he came tearing across the flats, hair flowing in the wind, clothes torn and bloodied and—”
“You saw all that,” the old man put in. “How?”
“It wasn’t all that dark,” Mann responded calmly, then he drew his horse closer and patted its neck, a thin smile running along his lips.
Hope regarded him intently, as though seeing him for the first time. Her previous opinion of him had led her to expect only brutality from him, even murder. But since he had saved her from Whelan, she thought she might have to change her opinion, even if her uncle still didn’t trust the man.
“Are you all right, Mr. Mann?” Hope asked.
“I’m fine, Miss Clayton. I’ll stay only to bury this poor fool and then I’ll be on my way again. But be careful. If Whelan made it this far, maybe some of the others can make it, too. You could be in for more trouble tonight and I wouldn’t stay too long out in the open.”
“No need to bury that skunk,” the old man said. “Buzzards look after their own.”
Hope looked quickly at her uncle when Mann let out a chuckle.
“You’ve got a lot of hate in you, old man, but I guess I don’t blame you. In this kind of country and with the business you have to negotiate, it doesn’t pay to be over-friendly with anybody. I’m glad I was able to help you and your niece and perhaps when you’re finished with your business and have no longer any need to be suspicious of me, we can meet up again.”
Mann’s look went to Hope, causing her to blush. She saw him as a man who took pride in his appearance. He sat his horse gracefully and looked for all the world like he’d just dressed after a good night’s rest. His clothes, despite the country he’d traveled, still looked neat, and his face was that of a man who had nothing to fear. Then Hope said;
“You don’t have to go, Mr. Mann. I have a medicine kit in the rig. Let me look at your wrist. It’s the least we can do for you.”
The old man swung on her and growled; “Now see here, girl, who the hell runs this—?”
“Uncle Dick, stop being such a bellower. After what’s happened, even you have to admit that Mr. Mann is on our side. Why else would he kill that man? Doesn’t that prove to you that all the bad might be behind him? It follows then that everything he’s said to us could have a ring of truth to it.”
Mann watched the old-timer wrestle with his conscience. He realized that the business this pair still had to transact could be difficult. But he had won the girl’s confidence, and that was an important victory. He shifted about in the saddle, and said;
“My wrist could use some attention, Miss Clayton, but only if your uncle agrees to you attending to it. At the worst it’ll give me some pain on the way to Parson Falls, but I doubt if I’ll die from it.”
“I want to repay you at least a little for what you’ve done, Mr. Mann,” Hope said, and walked past her uncle, ignoring him.
The oldster studied Mann gravely as the gunfighter came down off his horse. The moment Mann’s boots touched the ground, Clayton jerked his rifle up and snapped;
“Okay, she can tend to your wrist! Meantime, I want you to hand over your gun.”
“And if somebody comes ridin’ in here?”
“Then I’ll likely give it back to you. I’m too close to my destination now to start trustin’ anybody.”
Mann unbuckled his gunbelt and handed it over. Dropping the belt across a bony shoulder, Clayton stepped aside to let Mann past, then he fell in behind him and followed him to the rocks.
Hope had opened a small medicine box and had already spread out ointment, iodine and bandages. Mann took his canteen from his pommel and poured water over the wound. Hope then made a brief inspection.
“It doesn’t appear to be too bad. How did it happen?”
“Latimer,” he said, as he let Hope bandage the wrist. When she had finished, he worked his hand a few times and then nodded in gratitude before he walked to where their horse was standing in the shadows of the boulders. After an inspection of the horse, he said to Clayton;
“If you like, I’ll exchange my horse for yours. He might not be trained to pull a rig, but he’ll come to accept it after awhile. You and your niece can then go on while I wait behind and keep watch on your trail.”
The old man frowned heavily at him, and asked;
“You’d do that for us?”
“Why not? Time is runnin’ out for us all. The sooner you get to Parson Falls, the sooner you can tie up your business and the sooner I can relax in your niece’s company again.”
