He paused and passed the reins to Dru. “You will have to stay with the horses.” conIs-is it them?” “It couldn’t be anyone else.” He paused.
“I’ll have to kill him, you know. his “Don’t you be killed.” He started forward and she caught his arm. “Mike, let me go. Maybe he would listen.” “He won’t. You know that. I’ve got it to do.” “Why are you doing this? She isn’t your sister.” “No . . . but she’s yours.” His moccasins made no sound in the sand or on the rocks. He could see a figure moving about the fire. Then he saw Juliana, her head on her arms, sitting near the fire. Ducrow glanced over at her, then said impatiently, “Get some of this coffee into you! This is where you stay, here in Peach Meadow Canyon. You’re my woman now)” He straightened up from the fire. “Monson an” Clattl They ran like scared foxes) No bottom to them) I come for a woman an’ I got one)” “Why don’t you let me go?” Juliana lifted a tearstreaked face. “My father is a wealthy man. He will pay you well.” “Your pa? I thought Voyle Ragan was your uncle?” “He is. My father is Ben Ragan.
He ranches north of the canyon.” “North of the canyon? Not unless he’s a Mormon, he don’t.” Suddenly he straightened from the fire again.
“What’s he look like, this pa of yours?” “He’s a great big man with gray hair, a heavy jaw-was She stopped talking, staring at Ducrow. “What’s the matter with you?” “Your pa, this Ben Ragan-a big man with a scar dison his jaw. That him?” “Oh, yes) Take me to him. He will pay you well)” Ducrow was laughing. “Well, I’ll be damned) So I latched onto the old rooster’s chick, did I?” He chuckled sourly. “Now I’m really goin’ to enjoy this here. So the old devil had hisself a family, did he? I thought all he had was that damned brat, that Mike Bastianl” Kim Baca was on the town. It had been three years since he leaned on a bar in Denver, and he had headed for Gahan’s opposite the courthouse.
He was known there, and friends often dropped in.
Moreover, it was a place to pick up news and information, and that was what he wanted. With money in his pocket and time on his hands, Kim was content. He played a couple of games of pool, bowled a little, had a few drinks here and there, and ate in some of the best restaurants. He spoke to old acquaintances, talked with some of the girls along the street. But it was not until he reached the bar at Gahan’s that he actually heard anything. Kim was young, he was attractive, and he was friendly. He had removed the badge from his vest and carried it in his pocket, as he did not want to inhibit any old friends or arouse suspicion in others. At Gahan’s he ordered a beer and looked around.
George Devol was having a drink with two shady-looking characters at a nearby table, and at the other end of the bar Bill Cody was surrounded by a group of friends. It was as Kim had remembered it.
He was thinking of another beer when a man stopped beside him and a low voice said, “Rounded up any good stock lately?” Kim glanced around and found himself looking into Doe Middleton’s smiling face. Doe was said to be the most successful horse thief in the west, but they both knew Kim had been every bit as good and perhaps better. “Not so’s you could notice,” Kim said.
“I resigned in your favor. You were makin’ the competition too tough.” Doe chuckled. “Your only trouble was you loved fine horses,” he said. “I took “em an” sold “em and went back for more. You just had to have the best horses in the country, and such horses are remembered. No way you could get away with it.” Doe turned his back to the bar and leaned his elbows on it, watching the crowd. “I see you ain’t wearin” your badge. You quit?” “No,” Kim replied. “I think I’m locked in for good, Doc, so do me a favor and stay away from my town, will you?
I’d hate to jail an old friend.” “If you could catch me.” Doc’s expression changed and he turned around, facing the mirror. “You workin’ with Bord Chantry?” “I am.” “I like him. When he was ranchin’ down there he always set a good table. I put my feet under it time to time when ridin’ the country.” Doe turned and looked into his eyes. “This is no time for you to be away from home, Baca. Bord’s goin’ to need all the help he can get.” “What is it, Doc?” “You know about Ben Curry’s outfit?” “just talk around. Not much.” “It’s been big, the biggest, but the whisper is that it’s breakin’ up. The whisper is that the bank in your town is the next one up, and tire outfit ridin’ that way are sayin’ Ben’s lost his grip an’ that he was a fool, anyway, him wantin’ no shootin’.” “When?” “Next couple of days. Maybe tomorrow.
Remember Clatt? Yeah, he’s one of them.
He’s talkin’ it around that he’s going to kill Bord if Chantry so much as shows on the street.” Doe Middleton touched the spot on Kim’s vest where the badge had been pinned. “I never wore one of those, but some of the men who do are mighty square.
I’ve been treated right here an’ there. “Far as that goes”-he spoke more softly-“as I come up the street I ran into Bat Masterson. We shook hands, talked over old buffalo huntin’ days, and then he suggested I not stay around Denver too long.
Too many people know me.
“He knows I’m wanted, but we also fit a couple of Injun fights together. He’s square.” Kim Baca nodded. “Know him myself. He’s a good man.” His thoughts were racing ahead. He was miles from home and Bord would need him, need him desperately. There was no way- He swore. Why couldn’t he remember the train?
Just hadn’t got used to the idea, and the telegraph, too. He thought the thing through quickly, running over in his mind his every move. First, the telegraph station, then a ticket on tire train.
“Damn it!” he said bitterly. “I had me a bed in a fine hotel and was fixin’ for a late breakfast of whatever was available. Now I got to light out.” “Was I you, with Borden Chantry for a friend, I wouldn’t waste around.” Kim finished his beer and left a coin on the bar.
“Thanks, Doe. I’ll not forget this.” “You just tell Bord that I didn’t forget.
Monson an’ Clatt have never been anything but trouble. Bord Chantry’s a good man.” Kim Baca went outside, heading for the railroad. At the despatcher’s office he sent his telegram.
Not five. Seven or eight. Monson and Clan, today or tomorrow. Coaxing a-running. KB “When’s the next train goin’ east?” The despatches looked up from under his green eyeshade. “Tomorrow mornin’, eight o’clock.” “I need one tonight.” Baca flashed his badge.
“I need anything that will roll, a place for myself and a horse. Will it help if I call Dave Cook?” “What’s goin’ on?” Briefly, Baca explained. The despatches replied, “Monson an’ Clatt, is it? I’ll get the trainmaster. We’ll see.” He started for the door and over his shoulder he said, “They’ve robbed trains. Four, maybe five years back Clatt killed one of our boys.” An hour later, with his horse in a stockcar and himself in a caboose, Kim Baca was racing east.
With luck he would make it. There was only the locomotive, the stockcar, and the caboose, but they had a clear track.
There was coffee on the stove. Bata found a cup and helped himself. Somewhere out there Monson and Clatt with several friends were riding for Chantry’s town.
He had warned Bord there would be seven or eight but that was guessing. With Ben Curry it was nearly always five men to a job, but Ben was no longer the big man, and Clatt had always run with a gang.
He would take all he could get together and they would plan to hit fast and hard. Monson and Clatt would be shooting to kill.
If Bord got his telegram he would do some planning and round up a couple of good men. The bank was opposite the store, and the building next to the store was the express office. A man placed there could cover the door of the bank and the side door as well.
If Bord was at the jail, where his office was, he could cover the bank door as well as the other side of the bank. With a man at the big barn, which was behind the bank and a little further along, they could cover the front, both sides, and the rear. He finished his coffee and stretched out on a bunk. He was thinking of how the men should be placed and the probable action when he fell asleep. He was awakened by a slowing of the train. He sat up abruptly. Taking out his watch, he glanced at it. They were scarcely an hour out of Denver. The brakeman, watching the track, spoke to him. “Bata? Fire up ahead, right alongside the track, one man and a horse.