“We’re not even kin. He raised me to do a job, and he can get along without me. He doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about me.” “He hasn’t heard you,” Clatt said.
“Let’s just rush the place.” “You rush it,” Kiefer said. “I’ll just set back an’ watch!” Despite his helplessness, Mike felt a glow of satisfaction. Ben Curry was a wily fighter. He knew that once he responded, their threat would have force. It was useless to kill Bastian unless Curry could see it, useless to waste him when they did not know Ben was even listening. Perrin had been positive Curry would come out rather than sacrifice Mike, and now they were not even sure their message was reaching him. Nor, Mike knew, were they sure Curry would give himself up to save him.
At first, it had seemed logical. Now he knew Perrin was no longer sure. Nor were those who followed him.
“Come on outl” Perrin shouted. “We’ll give you an’ Bastian each a horse and a mile’s start.
Otherwise you both diet We’ve got dynamitel” “Perrin,” Mike said, “you’ve played the fool. Curry doesn’t care whether I live or die. He won’t come out, and there’s no way to get him out. Don’t you think the old man has planned for this? When did you ever know him not to plan for everything?” Mike was talking as much for the effect on Perrin’s men as for Perrin himself. If he could make them doubt his leadership, they might, out of fear of Ben Curry, turn on Perrin.
Perrin ignored him. Some of the men stirred restlessly, and one or two looked around as if wondering if someone was creeping up on them. Ben Curry was a, shrewd fighter. Suppose he had planned for this? What would he have done?
“All he has to do, Kerb,” Mike said, “is wait for Dave Lenaker to show. Then he can make a deal with Dave, and where will you be? Out in the cold with these men who were crazy enough to listen to you)” “Shut upl” Perrin’s tone was angry. “Hell come out, all right. He’s just stallin’I” “Let’s open fire on the place)” Ducrow was impatient. “Or rush it, like Clatt suggested)” “Hell)” Kiefer was disgusted. “Why bother?
Let’s take all we can get away with an’ leave) There’s the cattle, at least two hundred head of the best ridin’ stock in the country, and what all. Rigger’s gone. Lenaker ain’t here yet.
We’ve got a clear field.” “Take pennies when there’s millions up in that stone house?” Kerb’s veins swelled with anger.
“There’s the loot of years up in that house) A strong room with gold in it, stacks of money) With all that to be had you’d run off with a few head of cows?” Kiefer was silent but unconvinced.
“There is no strong room,” Mike told them.
“I sleep in one room, Doc Sawyer in another, and there’s one for the old man. The only thing he’s got stored up there is ammunition. He’s got enough ammunition to fight a war, and he’s got the range of every place in town. Any time he’s good an’ ready he can start talon’ you out, one at a time.” Standing in the bright sunlight of the dusty street, Mike looked toward the stone house. All the love and loyalty he felt for the old man up there came back with a rush. Whatever he was, good or bad, he owed Ben Curry. Perhaps Curry had reared him for a life of crime, but to Ben Curry it had not been a bad life. He lived like a feudal lord and had no respect for any law he did not make himself. Wrong though he might be he had taken the orphan boy Mike Bastian and given him a start. He could never, Mike now realized, have become an outlaw. It was not in him to steal, rob, and kill. That did not mean he could not be loyal now to the man who had reared him and given him a home when he had none.
He was fiercely proud of that old man up there alone. Like a cornered grizzly, he would fight to the death. He, Mike Bastian, might die here in the street, but he hoped only that Ben Curry would stay in his stone shell and defeat them all.
Kerb Perrin was stumped. He had planned quickly when he heard Lenaker was on his way to Toadstool Canyon. When Lenakei arrived he would have men with him, and the fight for control could turn into an ugly three- or four-way battle.
With Molina out of the way he had been sure he would take over from Curry and be ready for Dave Lenaker when he arrived. He would be waiting in ambush for Lenaker and his men. They would never live to enter the canyon. Now, suddenly, both his planning and his timing had gone awry. The idea that Ben Curry would not even reply had not occurred to him.
That he might not surrender, Perrin had foreseen, and he had a sniper posted to pick him off if he so much as showed himself. “If you boys want to make a strike”-Mike spoke casually-“there’s that bank in eastern Colorado. According to all we hear it is ripe and waiting to be taken.” Nobody said anything but he knew they would be thinking. He doubted if any of them really wanted to face Ben Curry. He might be old, but how old was he? And how tough?
There was simply nothing he could do. At any moment Perrin might decide to kill him where he stood. Out in the open as he was, hands tied behind him, there was nothing he could do but think.
What had become of Roundy? The old trapper had risen suddenly and left the table, and Roundy had left his coffee unfinished, an almost unheard-of move for Roundy. Could he be in league with Perrin?
No, that was impossible. Roundy had always been Ben Curry’s friend and had never liked Kerb Perrin.
Yet where was he? Up there with Ben? That was likely, yet Roundy had a dislike of being cooped up. He liked to range free. He was a moving fighter, not given to defense unless forced to it. Wherever he was he would be doing what was necessary, of that Mike was sure. “All right,” Perrin said suddenly, “there’s no use all of us watchin’ one old man.” He glanced at Bastian. “That was a good idea of yours, about that bank. We’ll just hold you, knock off that Ragan place, and then the old man will be ready to quit. We’ll take care of him an’ ride east an’ pick off the bank.” Bastian was led back from the street. His ankles were tied and he was thrown into a dark room in the rear of the store. His thoughts were in a turmoil, and he fought to bring them to order. If he was to get out of this alive he must think. There was always a way if one but tried.
If Perrin’s men rode to the Red Wall they would find only four hands on the V-Bar. They would strike suddenly, and they knew how to do what must be done. Juliana, Dru, and their mother would be helpless. Four men, five counting Voyle Ragan, could not stand against a surprise attack.
And here he was bound hand and foot.
Desperately, he fought the ropes that bound him, but those who did the tying were skilled with ropes and had tied many a head of cattle and horses.
As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness he looked for something he could use to free himself, but there was nothing. No projecting corner, no nail, nothing.
Outside all was still. Had they gone? He had no way of knowing, but if Perrin was not gone he soon would be, leaving enough men to watch Ben Curry. Mike ceased struggling and tried to think. If he could get free and discover Ben’s secret route across the river he might beat Perrin to it and be waiting when the outlaws arrived.
Where was Roundy? And Doe Sawyer?
Just when he had all but given up a solution came to him so simple that he cursed himself for a fool. Mike rolled over to his knees.
Fortunately he was wearing boots instead of the moccasins he often wore in the woods. Bracing one spur against another to keep them from turning, he began to chafe the rawhide against the rowel of the spur. He wore big-roweled Mexican spurs, given him by Sawyer, spurs with many sawlike teeth instead of long spikes.
Desperately, he sawed until his muscles ached and he was streaming with perspiration. Once, pausing to rest, he heard a rattle of hoofs from outside. Several horses being ridden away.
were they just going? He might have a chance, if only- Boots sounded on the floor. Someone was coming! And just when he was cutting through the rawhidel Fearful they would guess what he was doing, he rolled to his side. The door opened. It was Snake Fernandez. In one hand he held a knife. The other shoulder was still bandaged from Bastion’s bullet. “You shoot Fernandez, eh? Now we see! I am Yaquil I know many ways to make a man bleed! I shall cut you into pieces.