“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know. I think it is. This country
has changed me. Maybe it has only brought me back to myself, back to what I should be. Yes, I do know. I want to stay.”
“All right,” she said, “we’ll stay.” She hesitated a moment. “Can I bring my things out from the East?”
“Whatever you like.”
Suddenly he heard steps on the platform behind
him, and he turned swiftly, looking toward the frosted glass door. There was a light tap.
“Who is it?”
“Callahan. Can you open up?”
Gun in hand, he opened the door. Mobile was
alone. “All right,” he said, “you did it. All hell’s breakin’ loose. Harvey was on the street tonight with Mort Ruff. Sarah Millier has been talking about buying cattle, maybe starting a brand of her own. I don’t know what that means, but you can be sure she’s got some bee in her bonnet.”
“Any sign of the Talrims?”
“No … but I’d swear I caught
a glimpse of French Williams. It was near the store, and I walked down that way, but there was nobody around.”
Whitman and Earnshaw had come from the dining room. Chantry turned to the railroad man. “Any chance of getting a locomotive? We may want to move this car, and fast.”
“The cars are on the siding a mile east of town,” Whitman said. “As I understand it, the cattle are to be there for loading by daylight.” He paused. “I can have an engine ready to move your car at any hour you wish.”
“At four o’clock in the morning then. Move this car to the loading area. Maybe we can put through the whole deal before they realize what is happening.”
Earnshaw smiled. “Tom, you worry too much. There won’t be any trouble. Porter and Wills will be there with their cattle, we’ll load them, pay them, and start east. Doris tells me you two want to be married. Well you can come east and be married there, even if you want to return here. Just don’t worry. I think you’re being overconcerned.”
“You may be right. Anyway, humor me enough to say nothing about the move.”
Outside he talked briefly to McCarthy and Callahan, and then headed for the street.
Would he know his father’s killers? It had been so long ago, and he had only a glimpse of them then. But the big man he would surely know, for there weren’t many like him. He walked down to the store, looking carefully around.
This was where Mobile Callahan thought he had seen French. What would Williams’ role be in this? Would he try to get the gold for himself? He was a strange sort of man who did many things on impulse. He was ruled by whim, by impulsive likes and dislikes that seemed to follow no rule.
The street was crowded as usual. Chantry went into one of the huge gambling tents for the first time. It was filled with pushing, bearded, sweating humanity. His eyes roamed the room … not a familiar face in sight.
Suddenly, across the room there was one. Familiar, yet unfamiliar. A huge, red-haired young man loomed head and shoulders above the crowd. It was not the man who had helped to kill his father; he was too young. From the description this had to be Charlie Ruff.
Their eyes met. For an instant the smile left Ruff’s eyes and he stared, hard-eyed, at Tom Chantry. Then the smile appeared again, and the big man came shouldering through the crowd, ignoring those he brushed against. Angry looks changed quickly when they saw the size of the man who had shoved them out of the way.
He stopped, wide-legged, in front of Chantry. “Howdy! You’ll be Chantry.
I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Several heads had turned, watching.
“You’ve come a long way for what you’re going
to get,” Charlie said, grinning. “You better tuck your tail an’ run while you got a chance.”
“And what am I going to get, as you phrase it?”
A big young man, secure in his huge size and strength, Charlie Ruff had walked through life with little trouble. There was no fear in him, and there never had been. Men stepped aside for him, or backed away. He liked it that way, and he was used to it.
But he guarded his words now. “You’re going to get what you’ve got comin’,” he said, “and I’m goin’ to give it to you.”
“Then why not now?” Chantry asked.
Charlie’s grin stiffened a little. He had never
been challenged before, never called to back up a threat. The games had come to a halt, people were backing away. Tom Chantry unbuckled his belt and handed it to a croupier. “Why not now, Charlie?” he said again.
Charlie Ruff was in a quandary. When he had started for town the last thing his father said was for him to stay out of trouble. “Watch a little, play a little, see if any of that crowd are around town, but stay out of trouble!”
It was too late to think of that now. He had wanted to throw a scare into this man. He had wanted to push a little just to see the man back off, as others had done.
“Sure,” he said, “why not now?” And he swung.
Charlie Ruff had thrown his huge fist with intent to demolish. Not a man in the room, with the exception of the croupier, who had seen many men and had learned how to judge them, and a couple of old-timers, expected anything but a quick, brutal beating. But what happened then Charlie Ruff was unprepared for.
Tom Chantry slipped inside of the ponderous right and smashed a right to the ribs. It was a beautifully timed punch and it landed solidly. Instantly he rolled and hooked a left to the same spot, then came back just enough and brought up a short, wicked uppercut to the chin.
Charlie Ruff went down, his breath knocked from him, his nose streaming blood.
He hit the dirt floor of the tent with a thud that shocked him through and through. Never before had he been hurt, never had he been knocked down.
He stared, then with a grunt he came off the ground and ran into two hard fists. The first split the skin under his eye, the second pulped his lips. But he was big and tough, and he kept coming. He reached out his huge arms and Chantry stepped back to get distance, but the crowd shoved him back. The huge arms caught him and enveloped him in a bear hug.
Charlie Ruff was a powerful man, and now he was wild with anger. He wanted to kill this man, to break him in two. With all his power he began to squeeze.
For one brief, agonizing moment Chantry thought he was gone. He felt a hard fist crushed against his spine, felt himself bent backward.
Charlie Ruff was at least fifty pounds
heavier, and much stronger.
There was one thing to do and he did it. He kicked up both feet and fell backward.
The sudden yielding fooled Charlie Ruff and he fell forward, stumbling in trying to catch his balance, losing his grip on Chantry as he did so.
Chantry was up and around in an instant. Charlie got his balance and turned, and caught a sweeping right to the jaw that knocked him against a tent pole. The whole tent trembled, and then the big man turned and came in, trying for his hold again.
Chantry stabbed a left to the mouth, and as Ruff lunged he side-stepped away from him.
For a moment they faced each other. For the first time Charlie Ruff knew fear.
He blinked through the sweat and blood at Chantry, standing there ready, lean, hard, and dangerous, waiting for him. Charlie Ruff had strutted and pushed and shoved all his life, smaller men had stepped away from him, appalled not only by the sheer size of him, but by the knowledge that where he was his father and brother were not far behind. But now they were not here, and he was alone.
The crowd was packed tightly around him. There was no place to run. He had felt those iron-hard fists, and he did not want to feel them again. The only way out was to kill Chantry. He was bigger, he told himself, and Chantry had been lucky so far. Slowly he began to circle, and Chantry turned coolly to face him as he moved.
Suddenly he charged, head down, arms flailing. A sweeping right smashed Chantry on the shoulder, staggering him and numbing his arm. The big man lunged into him, grabbing and pounding. Charlie knew nothing of fighting, but he had size and power.
His fists thudded and banged. Chantry staggered, shuddering under the power of Charlie’s blows, and Charlie tried to smother him with sheer weight and size. Chantry went down, narrowly avoided a ponderous kick, then lunged up and caught Charlie with an overhand right. He slipped inside of a swing and smashed with both hands at the big body.