Soon, after a good dinner and several cups of coffee, I was thoroughly at ease. So much so that when the stranger walked in I scarcely noticed Men. Not, at least, until his face turned toward me.
It was Doc Sites.
His eyes met mine across the room, and for a moment he remained still.
His fingers were on the bar-edge, his body close against it. I did not want to kill him, and to draw against me he must move back from the bar and turn- For the moment the advantage was mine.
“How are you, Doc? Looking for me?” He had difficulty saying it, but he finally got it out.
‘ationo,” he said hoarsely, “no, I ain’t.
I’m looking for them.
They cut out and left me. They took it all.” “They aren’t going to keep it, Doc.” “You’re damn right they ain’t!” I’m going to find and kill them.” “Find who?” It was Bob Heseltine. He stepped in out of the darkness, a gun in his hand.
Behind me Kid Reese spoke. “at You set still, Shell or I’ll Frank had a double-barreled shotgun in his hands and it was covering Heseltine.
“Your fight is your affair and I want no part of it, but if you fire that pistol, I’ll knock Y.right off those steps. I just mopped this floor, and blood is hard to get up.i tilted on the balls of my feet, clearing three legs of the chair off the floor and spinning on the other. I turned low and hard, swinging MY arms mode. One of them struck the Kid’s wlist and knocked his arm over and I came up, driving into him with all my strength.
He was slim and wiry, not as strong as I was by a good bit, and my attack had taken him by surprise, his attention drawn by the bartender’s sudden challenge of Heseltine. He staggered back, and I slugged him hard in the wind, my left hand gripping his gun wrist. The gun went off into the floor and I hit him again.
He lost his grip on the gun and I turned loose with both hands. I had never realized how much I wanted to hit Kid Reese. He had always treated me with contempt, and I had always known he despised me but I had not wanted to admit it.
My blows were not only for him, but for the fact that I had once been stupid enough to want to be like him.
I smashed him again and again in the face and the body until he sagged to the floor, blood dripping from a broken nose, his cheek ripped open by a blow.
Then I turned sharply around. Heseltine, his gun in hand, was standing very still, Franys shotg at held steady on his belt buckle. No man in his right mind, and especially not such a gun-canny man as Heseltine, wanted to tackle a shotgun at twelve feet.
“He’s supposed to be very good, Frank,” I said. “Let him holster his gun and then turn him loose. I want to see how good he is.” “Nothing doing.” Frank’s voice was casual.
“I have no part in your troubles. I want no shooting in here.” He gestured with the muzzle.
comally there! Shove that mouse back into its hole.
Then you back out of here, get on your horse, and ride out One wrong move and I’ll cut you in two.
“In case you want to know, by this time, my cook is settled by the back door with a Winchester, and he’ll have you dead in his sights from the moment you stop outside. You ride out of here, and I don’t give a damn where you go, but get out.” As for you?-he spoke to me without turning his head “you ride right after him … and don’t come back here wearing a gun. Now start moving.” Bob Heseltine backed toward the door. There he stopped. ‘allyou’ll get your chance, Tucker.
I’ll see to that” comThanks, Bob,- I said.
“comI’ve been wondering why you were ducking me.
Your friend Also Cashion couldn’t do your dirty work for you. I figured when you sent him you’d lost your nerve.” “Lost my nerve? Why, your Move!” Frank yelled at him. ‘ationowm Heseltine vanished through the doorway and I turned slowly to look at Kid Reese. He was on his hands and knees now, blood dripping in small drops from at his nose.
Doc Sites was still standing at the bar. He had held very still, his hands on the bar, his face dead white. He was scared, … scared stiff.
‘Thanks, Frank,” I said, “I’ll be leaving.” “Don’t thank me. Just get out. This here is a decent place. I want no shooting.” “these two go together,” I suggested. “They deserve each other.” With that I stepped out into the darkness, listening to the fading sound of Heseltine’s horse’s hoofs. For a moment I waited in the shadows, then crossed swiftly to the corral and pulled the drawstring on the slipknot with which I had tied my horse.
I into the saddle, and turned up the coast. I had no intention of following Heseltine into the dark and into a possible ambush. Right now I wanted to let The sudden flurry of fighting with Kid Reese have a lot of the animosity out of me.
As for Doc Sites, I had nothing to do with him.
He had been shot, he had evidently been robbed by his former companions, and he would suffer enou . at would gb M happen between him and Kid Reese I neither (mew nor cared. The thing I wanted was my money.
Suddenly, I wondered . — . where was that money?
Who had it now? Ruby Shaw She had some, perhaps, but not all. I could not believe Heseltine would be so gullible.
Turning my horse into deeper darkness, I rode with caution, seeking the white line of a trail that led along the Plateau and thrDugh the brush and cangg’UM-PS of pin oak. And then I knew what I would do, and I circled and rode hard for the hills above the La Ballona ranch.
As I rode it came to me what I had done. Only a few minutes before I had challenged Bob Hesel at e to a shoot-outr I had done that.
Conchita put her head out of the mqndow as I rode into the yard.
Yes, I could have a horse. Her granffather was gone; only her brother was here. Swiftly, I swapped horses and rode out of the yard and down the trail toward Los Angeles.
When I rode down the street, across the Plaza, and into Sonora Town, it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. I knew the house to which I was going, and I dismounted in the shadows of an alleyway nearby.
Heseltine might be here, but the chances were he had not yet reh equals ed-if, indeed, he was coming back at all.
Villareal’s house was dark. It was a small adobe with a porch across the front and a backyard with a board fence around it. There was a stable with a door opening to the alley.
Stepping into the stable door I stood at one side, my hand on my gun, waitin- and listening.
The horses rolled their eyes at me. There was a smell of hay, of horse manure, and of sweat. I eased across the barn, speaking softly to the horses. One of them snorted a little, not loudly, but I spoke again and the horses continued with their chomping of hay.
I touched each one as I passed … and the last of the four horses was damp with sweat. It had been hard ridden, and not nabbed down.
Heseltine? Or Villareal?
I started to move on when a faint gleam from the back of the farthest horse drew my attention. It had been the first horse I had touched, when my eyes were not yet used to the darkness. I had merely put a hand on the horse’s hip in passing.
Now I saw something I had not seen before. That horse was saddled.
I went back along the space behind the stalls and stepping into the last one I spoke to the horse, then patted it … dry and cool. My hand went to the saddle, feeling the blanket. The blanket was damp.
I paused, listening. Somebody had ridden back here, riding hard.
That somebody had swapped his saddle from the hard-ridden horse to a fresh horse and was evidently planning to leave at once.
He had gone into the house for something. For what?
For his gear? For food and a canteen? Or for those things, and the money as well?
Glancing around quickly, I looked for a hiding place.
The stalls were divided merely by poles that were waisthigh, running from the wall to posts that supported the barn roof. I did not want to endanger the horses. The only place seemed beside the door.