After several minutes she heard muffled sounds, and then Jim said, “Who is it?”
“It’s Nancy, Jim. Nancy Kerrigan. I’ve three of the boys with me. Buckdun’s in town buying dynamite.”
The door opened, and the first thing Nancy saw was the pant leg soaked with blood. The leg below was swollen, the material stretched tight.
“You’ve been hurt,” she said. “Let me see what I can do.”
“No,” he said. “If Buckdun’s bringing dynamite, you’d better get out. He’ll probably drop it down from above.”
“He’ll do that,” Ryan said, “and if we all take out we’ll be better off.”
“Go ahead,” Flint said, “I’m staying.” As Nancy started to interrupt, he added, “I’ve got to. If a man starts running there’s no place to stop.”
She looked at him, her eyes clinging to his. “Jim … Jim, you’ll be hurt.”
“When this is over, I’m planning to ride around to see you. Will you be home, Nancy?”
“You do that, Jim. I’ll be home. You just come around, and you plan on staying awhile. We’re building again, and there will be a place for you.”
“Pete,” Flint said, “get her away from here. If I know Buckdun he’s on his way back now.”
When they had gone he went in the house. Others knew of it now. This place where he had come to die, so long a secret, was secret no more.
He stuffed shells in his pocket and picked up his rifle and his slicker. The sky was overcast and there were rumblings of thunder. He walked outside and looked around, then went back in and through the manger.
The horses came eagerly but he spoke to them. Then Flint climbed up on the lava, and started to work his way back toward the hideout.
Night was coming, and thunder was rumbling. A spatter of rain started, threw a quick flurry of drops, and then raced over the lava beds and away. In flashes of lightning he could see the fringe of dark trees along the mesa’s edge.
Ahead of him was a wide, somewhat swelling expanse of open rock, part of it covering the tunnel that led from the hideout to the basin pasture. When he first saw the head he thought it was a rock. It was still for a long time but finally, looking past it so as not to blur his vision, Flint saw the object move and rise. And a man stood there, just beyond the swell, and he had a package in his arm.
The man started forward, carrying the package in one hand and his rifle in the other, going toward the rim of the lava flow. Jim Flint lifted his rifle and Buckdun was dead in his sights, but he could not fire.
Flint stood up, his rifle in his right hand. “Buckdun!” he said, and thunder rolled like far-off drums.
Buckdun turned and looked at him. There was no more than forty yards between them, and Buckdun’s tall figure stood stark against the gray sky.
“So this is the way it is going to be, is it?” Buckdun asked. “Well, you’ve given me a fair chase.”
He spoke casually, but his rifle moved fast. Jim Flint tipped up the muzzle of his own rifle, caught the barrel with his left hand and shot from the hip. Buckdun’s shot was a split second too late. He staggered, dropped his rifle, and fell to one knee.
Flint held his fire, but stood with his legs spread, rifle ready for a shot. “Well, you got me then,” Buckdun said. “I’d like a smoke … is it all right?”
“Have your smoke.”
Buckdun’s face gleamed momentarily in the glare of the match, the light showing the hard planes, then he bent his head, shielding the flare of the match with his body. When he turned the cigarette was between his lips.
He stood up and a spark dropped away behind him. “You have given me a rough time of it, Flint. Tell me, is it true you were the kid at The Crossing?”
Something in his tone was wrong, some sound, some faint suggestion of … another spark dropped away behind him, and another.
Flint felt a shock of panic. “Damn you! Buckdun — I”
The killer’s hand swung around in an arc, in it a black bulking bundle from which sparks were shooting.
The dynamite!
Flint fired, working the action as fast as he could move his hands. He saw Buckdun jerk with the impact of the heavy rifle at close range, saw the black bundle slip from his hand to the rock before him, saw him fall sprawling as the second bullet hit him, then leap to grab up the bundle of dynamite again. Buckdun sprang forward for an easier throw but there was a sharp crack of splintering rock and he vanished from sight.
Flint threw himself to the rock and as he did so there was a thunderous roar and a tremendous blast of flame, and then rocks were raining about him, and he lay still until the last few had fallen, and then he got shakily to his feet.
He walked forward, tapping the rock under foot with his rifle to make sure it was solid. When lightning flashed, he could see a pit littered with broken rock, and the sprawled body of Buckdun.
He heard them coming before they reached him. “Jim! Jim! Jim, is it you?”
“I’m all right, Nancy,” he said, “I’m all right.”
Chapter 20
After the rain the air was washed clean. The un-painted buildings of Alamitos still showed dampness, but the dust had been washed from the brick buildings and the adobes seemed freshened after the storm. The cottonwood leaves rustled pleasurably, and the few horses at the hitching rail were quick to lift their heads when the Kaybar rode into town.
As if by prearrangement they scattered themselves along the street and Nancy went at once to the Grand Hotel, escorted by Jim Flint
He wore a gray suit this morning, but the wide hat of a Western man. On the steps they paused.
“You’re sure you have to do this?”
“I have to do it.”
“All right” She looked him straight in the eye. “My father always told me there were things a man had to do. Just see that you do it well.”
He smiled suddenly, and she was amazed at how his face lit up. “Why, I’ll do that,” he said, “I surely will!”
Porter Baldwin had been standing in front of the Divide Saloon and Jim Flint turned and walked down the street toward him. The big man stood awaiting him, his huge body bulking heavy in his black broadcloth suit.
“He’s dead, Port.”
Baldwin took the cigar from his mouth and looked at it with displeasure. He tossed it into the street “Who’s dead?”
“Buckdun. He caught it last night down in the lava beds.”
Baldwin stared at him. “So? What’s that to me?”
“I just thought you’d like to know, Port. Now you are going to go down to the station and get on that train and leave town — and you’re never coming back.”
“Is that right?”
“It is. You can go willingly, or you can be loaded on like a side of beef. The choice is yours.”
“Noticed you favoring your leg. Something wrong?”
“There isn’t much time, Port.”
“I suppose if I don’t go,” Baldwin said, “you’ll use a gun on me?”
“Why, no, Port. From what I hear fists are your weapons. Knuckle and skull and no holds barred … am I right?”
“You’d not be fool enough to tackle me that way,” Port replied. He lifted his hands. “I’ve killed a man with these.”
“It’s a trouble I have, Port. I am a fool.” And Flint hit him.
The punch was quick, a darting left jab that slid between Baldwin’s half-lifted hands and hit him in the mouth.
Baldwin lifted a hand to his smashed lips and looked at the blood on his fingers. “I think I’ll take off my coat,” he said, “because to judge by that punch it will take me more than a minute.”
They removed their coats very calmly, then their ties and collars; they faced each other and Baldwin doubled his huge fists and took his stance. “Now, Jim Kettleman, I am going to kill you with my hands.”
“Put your money where your mouth is,” Flint replied. “I’ll bet you five thousand dollars I can whip you.”
“Now, I like a sporting man. I’ll cover that. And we have witnesses to the fact.”
A considerable crowd had gathered, and the two men circled warily within the circle they created. Flint was under no false impression of what lay before him. His leg was stiff and sore and he was not in the best of shape after the long struggle on the malpais.
Moreover, understanding the man he faced, he knew that only a beating with fists would mean defeat for Baldwin. Only that would send him back to New York. Alamitos had troubles enough without coping with Baldwin’s devious conniving, and the fact that he was still here was evidence enough that whatever he intended to do was not yet complete.