Since Queenie was in this hotel, it was likely Kelsey and the others were here too, or close by. The first thing I must do was learn where they were.
But with all this contemplating, I was tired enough that in a few moments I fell asleep.
A gentle tapping roused me. Glancing at my big silver watch, I saw I’d been asleep more than an hour. I swung my feet to the floor and stepped over beside the door, rifle in hand.
“Si?” I said, using Spanish, which an enemy would not expect.
“It’s me, boss. June Cogan.”
Moving the chair back with my left hand, I tipped my Winchester to cover the crack in the door and said, “All right, open it and come in slow.”
It was Cogan, all right. And Handy Corbin was with him.
“Looks like you roped yourself a maverick,” I said to Cogan. “Where’d you dab a loop on this one?”
“He rounded me up,” Cogan said, grinning. “Seems like word gets around, and he heard you’d hired me.”
“You’ve got your problems,” Corbin said, “I’ve got mine. And my problem is LaSalle Prince. I’ve been trying for days to cut him loose from the herd so we can settle a matter.”
“I heard he was kin of yours.”
“Well, there’s a matter of blood-line. It ends right there. The only kin he’s got, run with the wolf packs who have the same kind of nature. He killed my brother … shot him for money.”
“Where are they now?” I asked.
He told me that only Queenie was in the hotel. Phillips and Gassner were down on the street. Andy Miller was at the livery stable. LaSalle Prince was in the saloon across the way.
“Where’s Kelsey?”
“You’ve got me. I figured you might know. Looks to me as if they’re waitin’ for you to come out, Chancy. This time they don’t figure on your gettin’ out of town.”
“Corbin, I’m driving my herd up to the Hole. I’m getting married tomorrow and my wife is going with me, and I don’t intend for any no-account gunmen to keep me from it. Nor do I intend to sit here waitin’ for them. You say Andy’s at the stable? All right, I’ll go down and have a talk with him.”
“You’re crazy! He’s all set up for you.”
“More than likely he’s waiting for me to show up on the street so he can bottle me up, with Prince and those two out there to help, and Kelsey to come in on the kill. He won’t be expecting me, but if he is I’m going to give him his chance.”
“What do you want us to do?”
“Keep them off my back. That’s all. This is my party.”
“Not Prince. I’ve been hunting LaSalle Prince for two years.”
“You can have him. Just don’t let him get in my way.”
The new six-shooter Cogan had bought for me was a beautiful piece of workmanship. After checking the gun, I loaded it from a fresh box of shells, and dropped it into my holster, which was now on my right thigh. Taking up my rifle, I went to the door. “You boys can keep an eye on Gassner and Phillips,” I said. “I am going after Miller.”
There was no longer any choice. To take a wife into Indian country was bad enough, but with the threat of an attack by outlaws too it was too much. I was going to give Andy Miller the chance of leaving me alone or shooting it out.
He was a fast, accurate man with a gun. Although most men would agree that he was not in Kelsey’s class, he was a dangerous man. I had no desire to be known as a good man with a gun. All I wanted now was freedom to live, to raise my cattle, and to build the kind of home I’d always’wanted.
Brimstead was out of the picture. He was a cruel, tyrannical man, but such men dig their own graves, and I felt no urge to be the man to top it off. I had whipped Stud Pelly, and Brimstead was no longer a danger to me.
The Kelsey outfit had tried to kill me. They had knocked me on the head and left me for dead, they had stolen our cattle, and they had come here to hunt me down.
I walked along the hall, and went down the back stairs to the area behind the buildings. There was a scattering of lean-to sheds and outhouses, a couple of corrals, and open grass country dotted with a few shacks. Holding the Winchester in my right hand, I walked along, stepping over bottles, broken shingles, piles of firewood, and the usual truck that is left behind buildings in a hastily constructed town that has not taken the time to clean up.
Inside, I was empty, still. I was walking toward a shoot-out with a very dangerous man, and I told myself I was a fool. I should avoid this, could have avoided it. But it would eventually catch up with me and I was not good at waiting for an axe to fall.
The livery stable was a huge, cavernous building, already weather-beaten. Behind it sprawled corrals and outbuildings. It fronted on the main street; inside there was an open space that separated the two lines of stalls. Above the stalls was the hayloft, now almost filled with hay.
Near the corrals in the rear were several freight wagons scattered over a vacant lot. While I was in the shadow beside one of the wagons it came over me what I was really tackling. Andy Miller was a skilled hand with a gun, who had used one many more times than I had. Not that I was any tenderfoot, for I’d grown up using shooting irons of one kind or another, but this was a mighty fast, tricky man I was going up against. And if somehow I came out of this one alive, there was still Kelsey.
Pausing beside the wagon, I took off my hat and wiped the hatband; after replacing it, I removed the thong from my six-shooter. Was I stalling? For a moment longer I hesitated. The sun was already going down, and it would soon be dusk. I could hear footsteps along the walks as people started for home, or for the restaurants for their evening meal. Farther away I heard a bugle sounding the mess call.
Stepping through the bars of the corral, I went across to the barn. I could smell dust, hay, and the usual barnyard odors. Having opened the gate and closed it carefully behind me, I walked across the dozen yards that separated me from the wide-open door of the stable.
The area between the rows of stalls was empty except for a man who sat at the street door, smoking a pipe. It was almost dark back in the stalls, but I could see the whites of the horses’ eyes as they rolled them around at me. With the Winchester slung from my left shoulder, I went forward, eyes swinging right and left. Expecting a burst of gunfire at every step, I reached the street door, and the hostler looked up.
“Howdy! You’re a soft-moving man. I never even heard you coming.”
“I’m looking for Andy Miller.”
He shot me a quick glance. “I’d give that some thought, boy. Not many folks go huntin’ grief, thataway. Andy waited around a while, then went yonder up the street. Was I you, I’d mount up and ride whilst you’re able.”
Without replying to him, I started up the street, my left hand on the barrel of the Winchester. There was nothing in the way but a chicken, pecking at something that lay in the dust. When I came to the near end of the boardwalk I stepped up on it and walked along, keeping my eyes a-studying the buildings on either side, but also watching out for what lay ahead.
Just about then I noticed that not everybody had gone to supper. Phillips and Gassner were still standing on the street, and when they heard my boots on the boards they looked my way, and both of them crossed the street to the front of the hotel and waited there, watching me without seeming to. There was no sign of Corbin or Cogan.
The saloon where LaSalle Prince was said to have been was only a few doors farther along. So it should be some place right soon, if this was a trap they’d laid.
Suddenly I saw a narrow gap between the next two buildings and did a quick side step into it and stopped. It was a moment before they realized I’d gone. Then I heard a startled exclamation, followed by the quick sound of boots. They came running, with Phillips a step in advance, Gassner on his left. I was waiting for them, and as they came into the opening I jabbed the muzzle of my rifle into the pit of Phillips’ stomach, and then dropped Gassner with a butt stroke on the skull. He fell as if struck by lightning, for it had been a solid blow. Phillips had staggered against the wall, holding his stomach with both hands and gasping helplessly for air, so I tunked him, too, on the skull with the rifle butt. Then I drew their guns, emptied them, and tossed them far back into the refuse and debris behind the buildings.