He got up suddenly and strode to the door. “Ernie, take this note to Havalik!” He scratched words on a bit of paper. When the man was in the saddle he returned to the table.
“You’re right, of course. They’d talk.”
Something in his tone made Harrow look up quickly. “You told me so yourself,” Tetlow said, watching Harrow almost absently. “I can’t leave them alive.”
A man stood in the doorway with two guns. Harrow stared at him. If Tetlow would kill those women then his own life wasn’t worth a plugged nickel. His appetite gone, he sat over his food trying to think of a way out. “Well,” he tried to keep his tone casual, “I’d better check on my bartender. I can’t trust him too much.”
Jared Tetlow looked up at Harrow as he got to his feet, and at something in his eyes Harrow felt a faint chill go over him.
Why had he been such a fool as to straddle the fence? You never could, not when the chips were down. He turned on his heel and walked to the door, his spine crawling. Jared Tetlow watched him to the door, then got to his feet again. “Jack?”
Harrow turned and saw the drawn gun in Tetlow’s hand. He grabbed wildly for his own gun, but Tetlow fired, the crashing report louder in the closed room. Happy Jack Harrow’s knees folded and he went down, rolling over on the floor, the half-drawn gun spilling from relaxed fingers.
The man with the two guns had stepped inside. “Bury him.” Tetlow said. “He was going for the U. S. marshal.”
He sat down at the table again and the acrid smell of gunpowder mingled with the smell of fresh coffee.
Chapter 9
The killing of Jack Harrow did not pass unnoticed. Men who had remained on the sidelines saw it with misgiving. East of Horsehead two Forty hands came together on a little branch that emptied into the Westwater. “Tetlow killed Harrow.”
“Hear he figures to kill them women, too.”
“The Old Man’s losin’ his grip. Killin’ in a fight, that’s one thing. Massacre, that’s another.”
The first cowhand wiped his mustache with the back of his hand and took a sidelong glance at his companion. “Personal, I ain’t goin’ to have no hand in it.”
“Sort of been thinkin’ thataway myself.”
“I got two months comin’.”
“So’ve I, but if we try to draw our time there’ll be trouble.” The first man waved a hand at the scattered cattle. “They’ll never git ‘em all rounded up, an’ they’ll pay your wages. Cross country, it ain’t so far to Santa Fe.”
“What are we waitin’ for?”
Two cowhands and two hundred head of cattle headed south. Before noon three other riders came upon the trail. Being skilled readers of sign, they recognized the horse tracks and read the story in the dust. “Not a bad idea,” one of them commented casually. It took no more than minutes to reach a meeting of the minds. Cattle and men made a new trail. In Horsehead Jared Tetlow heard the story from Andy with sullen fury. Had it been Ben who reported the stolen stock and the vanished riders he would have waved him aside and stomped out to begin a chase, but this was Andy, the tough one.
He could see only one way out. Wipe out all opposition and then go after the rustlers and cattle.
“Pick fifteen tough men,” Tetlow said, “mount them with the best. Promise each one hundred dollars cash when the job is done and take them to Havalik. Tell him I’ll give him forty-eight hours.”
Dee Havalik received the reinforcements with satisfaction. With Andy and several others he squatted beside the fire. “Three times now Kilkenny has disappeared from place due north and a mite east of here. That means he got him a hideout in the Blues. He’s got a good bunch fighters with him but they’ve women to worry about. We can use fire to bluff ‘em into surrender. But first we’ve got to find them.
“Andy, you take five men and head up Mule Canyon. Better keep a rider on each wall as you advance, scoutin’ the country. Watch for trail sign. Grat, take five more men and ride east until you find a pass. When you do, go over and ride for the nearest bottom. Then wait for us. If we follow true courses we’ll meet back in there and by then we should know something.” Havalik led his own group along the western flank of the mountains roughly opposite the trail the searched-for party had left a few days before. When he came to the rough country around Cottonwood Creek, they turned up the Blues into higher mountains. At the point where they turned they were less than three miles from the waterfall under which the party had ridden to find the back door to the Valley of Whispering Wind.
By nightfall the three parties had come together, camping on a branch of Indian Creek. Due north of them towered the Twin Peaks, and beyond the peaks lay the valley.
Grat swung from his dusty horse and crossed to where Havalik and Andy conversed in low tones. “Struck a trail!” he told them triumphantly. “In that pass a little south of here. The rain washed out some of the tracks but two or three were that mare the Riordan woman rides.”
Havalik spat with satisfaction. “Good! Good!” He nodded affirmation. “That fits.
Must be the trail we lost.”
“That ain’t all. We found Jess Baker.”
“Dead?”
“Uh-huh. Right through the center. He had his chance, too.” “Kilkenny.” Havalik paced off a few steps. “I’d have give ten to one that was what happened to Jess.”
“You got any ideas?” Andy asked.
“We know they came this far. From the way they appeared and disappeared it can’t be much further. It could be in the mountains right around us. From now on we ride careful.”
. The wind whipped the fire and blew hard in the tree-tops. The air was cold and the sky spotted with clouds. Dee Havalik walked to a big log and sat down. What would they say in the Live Oak country when they heard he had killed Kilkenny? He had always known they would meet some day. He only hoped it would be face to face, man to man, and not in a general fight where the killing might be attributed to others.
Cain Brockman rode up to the cabin shortly before midnight. He went to the nest of rocks and trees beyond the spring where Kilkenny had bedded down after his brief rest in the house. “Lance?” he whispered. “I’m awake.”
“Spotted a couple of fires on Injun Crick, looks like Brigo’s gone down for a closer look.”
“Two fires? Close together?”
“Uh-huh. Means a big bunch.”
“Who’s on the peaks?”
“Shorty. It took me nigh an hour to get back down.”
“All right. You get some sleep.”
He lay there, hands clasped under his head, studying the problem. The expected attack would come tomorrow and it would be with all the force Tetlow could muster.
There was movement near him and he caught a faint breath of Nita’s perfume. He sat up and she moved down beside him. “What is it, Lance?” “They are over the peaks. We’ll have trouble tomorrow.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m tempted to hit them tonight with an ambush.” “Don’t do that. Let them start it.”
“When this is over, Nita, will you go back to your KR?”
“Not unless you send me.”
“It will be cold and lonely up here in winter.” “I don’t care! I’d love to see those peaks all covered with snow!” She listened to the wind. “In this valley with you? Riding, working, walking together, I’d want it more than anything, Lance.”
“You’ll have it, then. I’m through running. This place here in this valley will be my last stand. I made up my mind when I came here.” Nita was suddenly thoughtful. “Lance, I’m afraid.”
“Of Tetlow?”
“Only a little of him. Mostly of Dee Havalik.”
Kilkenny leaned back and began building a smoke. “Don’t let it bother you. I don’t.”
“That’s easy to say.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “and this is what I’ve tried to save you from without much luck. But Havalik will get more than he bargains for. He never bucked a combination like this before, and so far we’ve just defended ourselves.” Her mind shifted. “I think Laurie likes Doctor Blaine.”
“She’d be a fool if she didn’t. He’s a rare sort of man.”
“So are you.”
“Me?” Kilkenny chuckled, then drew deep on his cigarette. The glow was bright in the darkness and Nita momentarily caught the strong lines of his face, somber and brooding. “Maybe.”
The moon was rising above the wind-worried trees. They sat hand in hand, her head against his shoulder. The faint smell of tobacco smoke mingled with that of wood smoke and pines. The peaks were a hard, serrated line across the face of the moon.