It was cool inside and there was a pleasant barn-like smell of hay, manure and horses. A horse stomped in a stall and blew contentedly through his nose. Several horses rolled their eyes back at him, showing the whites. There was no one about as he led Buck to the trough, then went back through the barn and into the wide corral.
Behind this corral was a wagon yard, and to the left of that, another corral. It was in that corral where Dolan kept his stock.
Trees walled both the corral from which he had come and the wagon yard, and the latter was rilled with huge old ore wagons. Two freight wagons stood in the center of the yard, not together, and five others stood, tongues pointing high, in a row. Others lined the sides of the yard.
Men had been greasing the wagons and preparing them for use, but they had gone to eat and the yard was lifeless and still in the hot noonday sun. Kilkenny closed the gate and was about to cross the yard to the other corral when a boot scraped. Instantly he froze in position, every sense alert. The air was very still. The dust was warm. Cottonwood leaves brushed their polished palms together. He listened, but there was no other sound. Stepping quickly into the shelter of a huge freight wagon, he dropped to his haunches and studied the yard through the spokes of a high wheel. At first there was no sound of movement, and then through the myriad of spokes of other lined up wheels, he caught a glint of sunlight on a spur! He dried his palms on his jeans. His sun-browned face was still and cold, his eyes a deeper green. He pulled his hat brim a little lower and touched his gun butts, loosening them in the holsters. He saw the boots again, and the neat, small feet.
Havalik …
Rising swiftly, Kilkenny turned and ran lightly and swiftly to the wagons along the corral fence. Ducking behind them, he could see the wagon where Havalik had been. The gunman was gone.
Kilkenny hesitated, studying the situation. The corral comprised approximately an acre of ground, and in it were at least thirty wagons. Kilkenny decided that Havalik had seen him, had been stalking him, and was now about where Kilkenny had been before. Also, Havalik was not aware the trap had failed. Kilkenny squatted and peered through the spokes. A bullet smashed within inches of his face, stinging it with tiny splinters, and a shot sounded in the stillness of the corral.
He sprang back, and his spring sent him toppling off-balance to the ground. A second bullet nailed the hub of the big wheel near his face, splattering him with fresh grease. Lunging to his feet, Kilkenny ran around the end of the wagon at the same instant Havalik rounded another wagon-thirty yards distant. Both men fired.
Havalik’s bullet rugged at Kilkenny’s shirt collar and Dee sprang to shelter, apparently unhurt.
Kilkenny called out, “In the open, Dee! Let’s settle this now!” There was no reply. Behind him he heard movement. He turned swiftly and saw Dave, one of Havalik’s men, with a shotgun at his shoulder. Lance fired and the shotgun bellowed, but Kilkenny’s shot had been fired as a man points a finger. The swing, the point in one unceasing movement. The bullet drilled Dave through the shirt pocket and his knees buckled, throwing the charge of shot harmlessly into the air.
Instantly, Kilkenny sprang and grabbed the wagontop, swinging over the edge and dropping soundlessly into the wagon. He crouched there, listening. The last report gave Havalik six men.
Andy Tetlow was gone. And now Dave.
He waited, letting them look for him. Through a crack in the side of the wagon he saw nobody, so he swung over to the ground again. Seeing movement, he rounded the wagon.
Dee Havalik was moving across the open, but seeing him Dee stopped and swung to meet him. Under the old gray hat Havalik’s eyes seemed to blaze with malignant fire. Kilkenny saw the guns come up, lining on his belt, and then both men fired at once.
A bullet tugged at his shirt, and he saw Havalik flinch. Kilkenny ran straight at Havalik, his guns ready. Havalik lifted his gun to shoot, but the charging man was too much for him and he broke ground. Instantly Kilkenny skidded to a halt and dropping to one knee he shot three times as fast as he could slip the hammer off his thumb. The bullets slammed into Havalik and he backed up, cursing. His gray face was suddenly livid with a red gash where his lips had been. The red grew and blood trickled from both corners of his mouth. Havalik fired and the bullet burned Kilkenny’s ribs and Kilkenny fired again.
He saw Havalik jerk as the bullet struck him in the belt and the gunman seemed to shrink, his face twisting. He fired again, and Kilkenny snapped a shot with his left hand gun at the gun barrel that showed through the spokes of a wheel. Then he walked around Havalik, forcing the wounded man to turn. When he got around on his left side he fired again and saw the bullet strike dust from the man’s ribs in front of his drawn-back arm.
Havalik went down then, cursing bitterly. He tried to get up, failed, and fell face down on the hard-packed earth.
The echoes lost themselves against the hills and Lance Kilkenny stood erect and still in the open yard, looking carefully around him. It was very hot. A trickle of sweat moved down his cheek. He heard a big fly buzz heavily in the sun. Leaves rustled … and then there was movement and he turned swiftly.
Havalik was on his feet, swaying drunkenly, his clothing smeared with blood and dust. Kilkenny fired and the bullet smashed Havalik in the teeth. He fell flat on his face, all sprawled out, and did not move again. A man sprang from hiding and lunged at the fence. He was too slow, for as he grasped the top of the fence and swung himself over, Kilkenny snapped a quick shot that knocked him loose from his hold and he hit the ground on the far side, leaving a finger behind him.
Cain Brockman came into the wagon yard and with him were Dolan, Early and Macy. Kilkenny walked to his horse and, mounting, rode up the street to the Pinenut where he went inside for a quick drink. When he came out Cain sat his horse, holding the lead ropes of two packed horses. Kilkenny mounted and the two men rode out of town.
Nita saw them coming and rode to meet them. Cain rode on ahead, but Kilkenny waited for her. When she rode up to him he said, “Honey, there’s a minister in Horsehead. I think we should go see him.”
Her eyes searched his face. “Then … it’s over?”
“All over.”
“Was … was it very bad?”
“Dee was in too much of a hurry.”
They rode on in silence, their hands joined. Then he stopped abruptly and pulled her to him. Their bodies came together as their horses stopped side by side, and his lips touched hers and melted into welcoming softness, and he felt a strange fire thread through his veins.
And then the wind came, moving among the pines and then down the long grass levels where the cattle grazed, rippling the tall grass into changing gray and green and silver, and the horses pricked their ears, listening. It was very quiet then, in the Valley of the Whispering Wind. Only the wind itself, whispering words of endearment to its first people.