Someone stirred, and with a start, Kilkenny realized it must be Taggart. It would be two o’clock in the morning and he would be going to relieve Shorty. Kilkenny reached for his moccasins. “Better get some sleep. I’m going to scout around. Brigo isn’t back.”
“Don’t worry. He has a sixth sense, like a wolf.” He buckled on his gun belts and picked up his Winchester. Taggart waited for him. He was a tall man, lean-jawed and haggard of face. “I’ll walk along,” Kilkenny said. “Brigo’s been gone all night.”
“That Yaqui never sleeps.”
They mounted and rode away together. “Figure the fight will come today?”
“It’ll start.”
“I want one shot at that Tetlow.”
Surprised at the tone, Kilkenny glanced at him. “You sound like you had a personal grudge.”
“Knowed Tetlow since we was boys together. Before he owned one cow I had a nice ranch back in Texas. He stole my cows, burned me out, took my range.” “He’s been hurt himself, now. Lost two boys, his herds scattered, his men shot up.”
“He’ll never quit.”
They parted at the trail to the peaks. “Tell Shorty to get some sleep and to get the crowd up by five, ready for trouble.”
There was a dim trail east of Twin Peaks, winding around the mountain toward the place where the fires had been seen. When he was still some distance away he swung the buckskin to a thicket and left him tied. He heard their voices before he reached camp. Then a pistol barked, and a louder voice taunted, “Hell, Grat! You never even touched him! Bet I can notch his ears!”
Kilkenny slid through the brush, easing branches aside and moving close to the edge of the firelight. Then he peered into the clearing. Jaime Brigo was tied to a tree and men were sprawled on the ground eating breakfast. Grat and two others were standing with drawn pistols facing the tree. The big Yaqui watched them, his contempt obvious. Blood from a scalp wound trickled down his face. Havalik sprawled on the ground nearby, looking on without expression.
The man who offered the bet lifted his gun. As he did so, Kilkenny stepped into the open, his Winchester at his hip. He held the gun on Havalik, but his command was for them all. “If you want Havalik dead, just make a wrong move!” Caught unawares, all remained without moving and Kilkenny said quickly, “You! With the pistols! Drop them! Untie that man and make it quick or I’ll splatter Havalik’s skull all over your breakfast!”
Havalik sat very still. He was no fool, and he knew one wrong move would kill him. “You won’t get away with this, Kilkenny. I’ll have your hide.” “You’ll get your chance all in good time.”
He saw Brigo step away from the tree, rubbing his arms to restore circulation. Then the Yaqui picked up his rifle and buckled on his pistol belt. He turned his big head toward Grat. “This man shoot at me,” he said. “I want him.” “I’d like nothin’ better!” Grat challenged.
“All right.” Kilkenny knew Brigo. Few could face him in any sort of hand-to-hand combat. “Walk out beyond the fire. Now all of you turn to face them. Your backs will be toward me and anyone who wants to die will have an easy chance.” Grat was a big, strongly built man. He looked from the Yaqui to Kilkenny. “You mean I can fight him?”
“Choose your weapons. Gun, knife or bare hands.” “Knives!” Grat said, smiling with cruel satisfaction. “I always heard Injuns were good with knives but I never saw one yet who was! I go for a Bowie!” Both men put off their gun belts and with knives held low, cutting edges up, they circled warily. Grat was a powerful, quick moving man and he had stripped off his boots for better footing. Grat moved suddenly, but Brigo caught the darting blade on his own, and deflected it. Grat lost balance and fell forward. The Yaqui stepped back carelessly, his face hard with contempt. Angered, Grat lunged again. Like a chaparral cock with a rattler, the Yaqui began to bait him. He left openings, he appeared to slip on the grass, he circled and feinted, moving to draw Grat in.
Suddenly, Brigo lunged and the edge of his knife left a thin red line across Grat’s cheek. Blood welled to the surface and began to trickle. Grat rushed and the Yaqui sidestepped away and the point of his knife flicked the biceps of Grat’s left arm.
“Hah!” the Yaqui grunted as he moved away. “You wish to kill. How does it feel to be living, but upon the edge of death?”
Grat was sweating now. He was frightened, knowing that his knife skill was puny compared to that of the man he faced. The big Yaqui moved gracefully, easily, un wearied. Brigo’s knife was like a snake’s tongue, darting … darling … The point flicked again at the biceps, the edge touched Grat’s ear. Where the knife touched there was blood.
Grat threw caution away. His only chance was to rush, to close with the Indian before the loss of blood weakened him. He rushed, and Brigo met the rush, knocking aside the knife arm and thrusting, low and hard into Grat’s belly. Eye to eye they stood, then Brigo threw him aside.
Grat landed on his knee, and instantly threw his knife, but Brigo had already moved, and throwing his own knife as Grat tried to turn away, drove it to the haft in Grat’s kidney, the point driving up.
Screaming, Grat caught at the haft of the knife and tried to jerk it free. In this position, he could not exert the strength and he staggered like an insect on a pin. Brigo walked to him and, putting a hand on his shoulder, he withdrew the knife. Without looking at the dying man he wiped the blade clean in the sand. Then he belted on his guns once more and picked up his rifle. “You are fools,” he said. “As he dies, so will you all!” Surprisingly, Macy, Taggart and Dolan stepped from the brush. Worried by Kilkenny’s plan, Taggart had started them along his trail. Supported by their rifles, Kilkenny and Brigo disarmed the Forty riders. Kilkenny took the guns from Havalik’s holsters. “I’m going to unload these,” he said, “and give them back. One day we’ll meet and you’ll want your own guns.” Taking Havalik’s hat, he spun it high in the air. Then, slip-shooting with Havalik’s guns, he emptied them into the spinning hat. Then he tossed the guns into the grass at the gunman’s feet.
Mumbling, the Forty riders started for their horses, minus guns, ammunition and gunbelts. Then as they rode away the men from the valley walked into the trees toward their horses, taking with them all the guns but the two returned to Havalik.
In the pass, Havalik drew rein. “We’re not goin’ back. Dave, you take Joe and get to Horsehead. Get guns and come running. We’re not through here.” Leal Macy stepped into the saddle and then turned. There was resolution in his jaw. “This has gone far enough! We’re going into town and I’m going to arrest Tetlow. I’m going to deputize the lot of you right now!” Dolan glanced at Kilkenny. “What do you say, Lance? This might be the time.” Kilkenny hesitated, weighing their chances. “All right. Brigo can stay here with Doc Blaine, Early and a couple of men, just in case. The rest of us will go.” At the ranch they wasted no time. Leal Macy and Kilkenny would head the group for town, taking with them Dolan, Cain Brockman, Shorty and Taggart. It was a good, hard-fighting crowd.
Kilkenny led off toward town, but he had not gone far when they intercepted the trail of the Havalik men. “Only two men went to town! Havalik and the rest have stayed in the hills!”
Macy’s face was a study in uncertainty. “Do we stay or go?”
“We’ll go on,” Kilkenny said. “We’ll trust to Brigo.” “My guess is that those two have gone after guns. If we get along fast we can take them along with Tetlow.”
Day was breaking when the party rode into town. They tried no subterfuge, but rode right into the street. The only horse they saw wore the 4T brand. The center was at the Diamond Palace.
“Dolan, you and Brockman go down the street and pick up anybody that’s loose.
Taggart, you and Shorty cover the street.”
Kilkenny turned toward the Palace with Macy. “You think those two beat us here?”
Macy asked.
“Doubt it. I know the trails better and we pushed our horses.” Only one Forty hand was in the Palace. He was eating, but when he saw who had come in he dropped his fork. Two guns covered him and he attempted no more. In a matter of minutes he was hog-tied.