“Kane Semole?” The name came sharply from her throat. Her forehead grew sudden lines and her hands stopped moving in the washing-up water.

  “That’s right,” Blake said. “Nico’s brother, Kane. His sister sent for him when I killed Nico. Seems they were a close-knit family.”

  Joy licked at her lips nervously. Then, after a moment of deep thought, she said, “Grandfather is impossible sometimes. He lives so much in the past. If I were you, Mr. Durant, I’d take more notice of my father than of my grandfather: Grandpa has a one-track mind when he gets started on something. If you demand that they return your horse, I’m positive that my father will see you get it right away. He’s not the kind of man who—”

  “He’s the kind of man who should throw in his badge,” Blake said grimly. He saw anger rise in her face, but then she bit at her lip and nodded.

  “Yes, I—I’m afraid you’re right about that. He doesn’t even want the job. Pa has done too much fighting in his day. He wants peace now. He wants to get a normal job, to be treated like other people, to be part of the town—not a man forced to stand on his own …”

  “Then why doesn’t he quit?” Blake asked as he placed a stack of plates on the shelf behind the stove. When he turned to face her she studied him intently as if trying to make up her mind about him.

  “Quit?” Joy asked, and frowned. “The way you said that ... well, it sounds like you think it’s something a coward would do.”

  “No,” Blake said. “Cowardice has nothing to do with it. I just feel that when a man can no longer do his job, he should get out.”

  “Pa can do his job,” Joy said angrily. “You’ve no right to condemn him like that when—”

  “It’s no condemnation,” Blake said easily. “Just a straight look at the facts. By his own admission your father couldn’t handle the Semole brothers. When a lawman can’t stay on top of trouble-makers, when he doesn’t want to lock horns with them and accept the risks involved in controlling them, then he shouldn’t be in office. He should be doing something easier, something less dangerous.”

  An angry flush came to Joy’s cheeks. “He is no coward!” she snapped.

  Blake shrugged. “Didn’t say he was. But he’s out of his depth, Miss Graham. The way I see it, a woman like you, caught up in his affairs as you are, should be the first to tell him that and try and coax him into leaving his position honorably.”

  Joy’s face went white. She struggled to find the right words to counter what she obviously thought was an unfair attack on her father, but she couldn’t stand up to this expressionless man who said what he thought. This sense of power and his self confidence stopped her, yet with almost any other man she could more than hold her own. But she had to protect her father’s reputation, his good name, and finally she found her voice.

  “My father has done a great deal for this town. When he was younger—”

  But he cut her off. “He’s through and it’s time he admitted it to himself. Why doesn’t he?”

  “He knows, Mr. Durant, he knows. But what can he do, when grandpa is so stubbornly opposed to pa’s retiring. Grandpa has such deep pride that he won’t even listen to my father. And pa can’t let himself disgrace grandpa.”

  “Disgrace?” Blake said. “What does that have to do with anything? Your father’s done his job, but he’s lost his punch. It’s a job that demands a young man’s drive and initiative. If your father stays in it he can get killed. Is that the pride you and your father want to feel?”

  “Not me and not my father. But my grandfather—he’d disown pa if he turned in his badge.”

  Blake put down the last of the dishes, wiped his hands and handed Joy the towel. He said, “Somebody should tell your grandfather to mind his own business, ma’am.” He walked across the room and picked up his hat. Joy was still regarding him frowningly when he turned back to her. “Can’t you do that, Miss Graham? Can’t you tell your menfolk to wake up to themselves before it’s too late?”

  Joy pinched her lips and closed her eyes momentarily. “You think I haven’t tried, Mr. Durant? I’ve set out to do that dozens of times, but neither of them will hear me out.” Hope entered her eyes. “Perhaps they might listen to you.”

  Blake shook his head. “Nothing I’ve said in this town got much of a hearing, ma’am. No, I think it’s your business and you’ll have to work it out. The meal was fine. I’m obliged.”

  He walked to the door and held it open, letting the warm breeze come in from the porch. The town still held an attraction for him, with the prairie and hill country beyond casting spells of its own. He scrubbed a hand onto the back of his neck and began to walk. He was near the gate when he heard her come onto the porch. He turned as she spoke.

  “My father will listen to you, Mr. Durant. I know he considers you to be an honest and brave man. He wouldn’t have brought you home otherwise. And as for my grandfather, for all his wild talk and boasting, he’s not nearly the man he still thinks himself to be. He’ll also listen to you, I’m sure.”

  Blake eyed her thoughtfully for some time before he shrugged. “I might say something.” He went into the street. When he looked back from the boardwalk he saw her standing on the porch, the beginning of a smile working at her lips. He realized then that whatever use her menfolk might have planned to make of her, the young woman had turned the meeting to her own advantage. Now he was committed to solve another problem. He swore under his breath, then he turned across the street and entered the livery stable lane way. Walking along with the warm wind in his face, he was suddenly aware that the town was quiet; the activity of yesterday was missing. Only a few people were moving about. The feel of the tension in the air reminded him that a man was coming to kill him. Blake hooked his gunbelt higher on his waist and strode on. When he reached the livery stable and saw Sundown being exercised in the yard, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Sundown was circling the yard on a halter held by Ole Manuel. Manuel’s voice was a soothing drawl in the morning’s quiet and the horse seemed content. Which surprised Blake. Few men were able to get that close to Sundown, and he doubted if it was because the stallion was still favoring his left foreleg.

  Blake stood at the rails and watched. Sundown trotted past him, then turned his head sharply, whirled and pulled Manuel across to the rails. As Blake lifted a hand and stroked the big black’s nose, Ole Manuel came behind the horse, shifted him gently aside and said:

  “Easy now, boy, you still got to watch that leg some.”

  Blake eyed the little dark-skinned man intently, then Manuel went on:

  “I’ve given him a good rub-down with liniment. I spent half the night doing that. The horse gave me no trouble.”

  “He’s got good sense,” Blake said,

  “He’s just about the smartest horse I’ve handled, Durant, and I’ve taken care of hundreds in my time. He seems to know exactly what a man says to him.”

  “Once he wrote a book,” Blake said with a grin. “It told what horses had to do to get out of a corral. It was never published because I figured horse owners would object.”

  “Pity,” Manuel said. “Would have sold a lot of copies.”

  Manuel turned the horse about and pushed at his hindquarters, then the big black circled the yard again for Blake’s inspection. Manuel stood, turning with the pull of the short halter, and speaking quietly. “You can still see the swelling. Two more rubs and a little heat and he should be right by morning.”

  Blake waited until Manuel had stopped Sundown again before he asked, “Why hide him on me, mister?”

  Manuel’s black eyes settled on him. “Because I respect and admire Alec Graham a great deal. He’s a good man.”

  “Past his prime,” Blake said.

  Manuel nodded his acceptance of this. “Sure, well past. Past, that is, if you’re talkin’ about shoot-outs with the likes of Nico and Kane Semole. But he’s still a good man, trustworthy and keen at his job, a lawman who can keep control under normal circumstances. It was because of Alec mostly that I wanted to have you about when that killer Kane Semole arrives. You can take him, Durant, and do a lot of people a favor.”

  “It’s not rightly my business,” Blake said.

  “You killed his brother.”

  “If he has any sense he should know that was bound to happen.”

  Manuel smiled tolerantly. “Kane Semole hasn’t got any sense, at least not the way you mean it. He’s got animal cunning and brutality in him. He packs a punch with hand or gun that will take a real good man to beat. I think you’re that man.”

  Blake swore under his breath and studied Sundown again. What he had just seen convinced him that the horse needed another day’s rest. And he didn’t intend going anywhere without the big black.

  He said quietly, “You’ll stay with the horse, Manuel?”

  “Day and night, Durant.”

  “And have him ready when I come for him?”

  “No matter when. I was wrong leading him off the last time. I don’t expect there’ll be a need to do it again.”

  Blake accepted this and stroked Sundown again. He stayed with the horse for several minutes and then went on his way. As he turned into the main street, he sighted Dobie Martin entering a side street at the other end of the town. Blake stopped as Martin glanced in his direction. But Dobie Martin did no more than grin crookedly before continuing on.

  Blake Durant felt a chill run the length of his spine. He had met many men of Martin’s stripe. He felt no fear of them but he knew Martin’s breed would do anything to revenge humiliation. His kind thrived on what bullying could bring them. When someone came along to put such a bully in his place, he looked for ways to get even and regain his lost prestige. Blake stepped off the boardwalk, and then Alec Graham came across the street, looking in Martin’s direction.

  “He lost his job,” Graham said.

  “How come?”

  “Karl Parry, the man he worked for, is one of the old breed. He has a mighty respect for womenfolk. When some of his boys explained the kind of trouble Martin had got mixed up in, old Karl just paid him up and kicked him off his place.”

  “Good man,” Durant said. “Martin’s a bad apple. If he worries me again, Sheriff, I won’t answer for what happens.”

  “He knows that, Durant. Martin has never been more than a bully. I doubt if he’ll tackle you again. If he does, I guess it’s his mistake.”

  “You’re going to let him stay in town?”

  “Why not? He took his beating and he has money. I’ve got no reason yet to shift him on. But if he makes trouble, I’ll move him out. You have my word on that.”

  Blake wiped a line of sweat from his face. It was getting too warm to be standing in the sun. He shifted back to the shade of the boardwalk and Graham followed him.

  “What about Kane Semole?” the lawman finally asked, tugging his gunbelt into place.

  “What about him, Sheriff?”

  “Hell come, no doubt of that.”

  Blake shrugged. “My horse isn’t ready for riding yet.” And with that he went on. When he turned into the Tonkin saloon, Alec Graham crossed the street to his house and found his father sitting on the porch cleaning his ancient gun.

  The old man’s shrewd eyes took in his son’s look and said, “He’s stayin’ on then?”

  “Horse ain’t right.”

  “See Manuel and make sure it ain’t right for another two days. Kane Semole might just take his time coming, might want to check things out. If he talks to his sister first, she’ll tell him how it was, fair and square. Knowing Durant’s no slouch with a gun will put him on his guard. So it might take longer than I expected before he makes his move.”

  Alec Graham, tight-lipped, suddenly said, “I’m not tellin’ Ole Manuel to do anything, Pa. Durant’s horse is still sore but as soon as it’s fit to travel, Durant will be informed about it. And I don’t want you buttin’ in and doin’ anythin’ loco, Pa. I won’t have any more of your interferin’.”

  Hardy Graham stiffened and sat forward with a jerk.

  “Did I hear you right, boy? Are you tellin’ me that—?”

  “I’m tellin’ you plain and straight, Pa. I’m not bein’ part of settin’ Durant up to be shot down. If he stays of his own accord, well and good, but by hell I’ll be no party to keeping him in town against his will. Neither will you.”

  Hardy Graham jumped to his feet and pounded the rifle stock on the floorboards. His face was livid with rage and he spluttered for a moment before he blurted out, “Boy, have you lost control of your senses, talkin’ to me like that?”

  “I’m tellin’ you as plain as I can, Pa, to mind your own damn business. And when Kane Semole comes, stay in the house. I don’t want you buyin’ in, settin’ off any fuses. This ain’t the Platte and it ain’t Custer’s army and there ain’t a Redskin within a hundred miles of us. So just sit and chew on your cud and leave the town’s business to me.”

  Alec Graham, his face as flushed as his father’s, turned and strode briskly down the street, leaving the old man cursing a treat at his back. But Joy came onto the porch a few minutes later and placed a firm hand on the old man’s bowed shoulders.

  “Don’t, Grandpa,” she said gently.

  “You hush yourself, girl!” the old man retorted. “Impudent young pup! I spent a lifetime rearin’ him and now I see him stand and abuse me, call me an old, interferin’ fool. By hell—!”

  “You reared him to be a lawman and he’s being that, Grandpa. Pa knows what he has to do. If he needs you, he’ll come for you, I’m sure.”

  “If?”

  Joy turned him around. “He’s so much like you, Grandpa. He has his pride, too. Do you want to take that away from him?”

  Hardy Graham’s rage abated and he eased back from her. “Pride?” he said. “What are you talkin’ about, girl?”

  “He’s the sheriff of this town, Grandpa. He has to have full authority and he can’t have that when you’re interfering. Now come inside. I’ve got your coffee on.”

  Joy returned to the house and left the door open. She heard him still grumbling after that, but when he finally came in his face was grey and heavy with thought. He looked morosely at her and then he slumped down in his chair and put his gnarled old hands around the coffee mug. Not looking at her, he sat there, hunched over, an old man who had finally taken a good look at himself and realized he had only memories left.

  Six – A Town Waits

  Dobie Martin didn’t make an appearance in the saloon until sundown. He used the back door and took a long look at the customers standing along the counter before he brought his bruised and battered body to the end of the bar. He tossed his money on the counter and stared at Hap Tonkin without saying a word. Hap Tonkin served him silently took his money and left Martin to his brooding.

  At about this time Blake Durant inspected his horse and found that Sundown had almost completely recovered under Manuel’s skilled attention. By morning Sundown would be his own frisky self and ready for any trail Blake Durant set him along. Blake walked to the saloon and was halfway to the bar when he sighted Martin. Their eyes met and the big man’s bruised face scowled. Blake bellied up to the bar beside Martin and bought a drink. Looking into his glass, he said, “Want to see me, mister?”

  Martin’s lips curled back in a sneer. “I don’t ever want to see you any place, Durant. I got my rights to be here same as anybody else.”

  “Do you bear me a grudge, mister?”

  Martin stepped away from the bar counter. His hips were gunless. He said, “Sure, I bear you a grudge, Durant. What do you expect?”

  “You intend to do anything about it?”

  “Nope.” Martin chuckled, hooked himself over the counter and shifted his glass in a pool of rye. “Nope, I ain’t gonna do a damned thing, Durant. One thing I learned from kicking my heels in towns like this was to steer clear of anybody too damned good for me. Mr. Big Man, I figure you’re just too fast with a gun for me, and you hit too damned hard. So, I’m just gonna leave you be.”

  “That’s the most sensible thing you’ve ever decided in your life, Martin,” Blake told him, feeling an edge of uneasiness shifting through him. The day’s waiting had got on his nerves and the way the townspeople kept their distance weighed heavily on him.

  “Yeah, I’m bein’ real sensible, Durant. I’m just gonna wait about and watch it when it happens.” Dobie Martin turned, pushing an elbow onto the counter and lifting his glass in a salute to Durant. “Gonna watch it from the side, Durant, and see your guts blown out. You ever see Kane Semole in action?”

  Blake straightened. “I don’t give a spit about Kane Semole.”

  “Well, you should, drifter. Nico, he was good, fast as a blur. You were just a tick in front of him, as I saw it. But Kane, by hell, he’d pick Nico up by the seat of his pants and spank him. He’ll take you, Durant, and I’m gonna stand and watch it.”

  Blake grabbed a handful of Martin’s shirt and pulled him in close. “Don’t push your luck,” he said. “I don’t like the look of you or the stink of you or the sound of you. Maybe you should find another town.”

  Blake pushed and let go of the dirty shirt. Martin staggered back and said:

  “You go to hell, Durant. You don’t own this town. I already saw the sheriff and he says I can stay. So you leave me be.”

  “Then shut down and keep out of my sight. I don’t intend to let you come within shooting distance of me while I’m in this town. Do you hear me? Keep beyond shooting distance. Any closer and I just might get the idea you’re gunning for me and behave accordingly.”

  Martin slapped his hips. “I got no gun, Durant. I ain’t wearin’ one now and I won’t be wearin’ one while you’re about. If you draw on me, you’ll draw on a defenseless man and it’ll be called murder.”

  Blake eyed him with disgust and pushed him aside. “You heard what I said,” he told him and moved back along the bar.

 

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