Range Rebel (Prologue Western) Page 4

  “Had enough?” asked Dave softly. His chest rose and fell and he could feel waves of pain pouring up his weak leg.

  “Yeh. Yeh. You win.”

  Dave turned to get his gun belt. Shorty uncoiled like a bull whip. He whirled Dave about and hit him with a hard one-two. Dave went down striking his head against a wagon wheel. He shook his head, trying to get up as Shorty raised a boot, poising the cruel spur to rake Dave. Dave rolled sideways, gripped the ankle, felt the spur rip through the flesh of his forearm, and then heaved up hard, forcing himself to stand up. Shorty thudded to the ground and Dave dropped atop him, punishing him with short blows to the face. They thrashed through the mud to the center of the street and Shorty broke free. He was up first and booted Dave alongside the head. Ochoa yawned. He walked slowly toward Dave, slipping the knife into its sheath.

  Dave tried to get up but was helpless, watching the breed and the grinning little man close in on him. “Tough hombre, eh?” asked Shorty. He laughed. “Well we ain’t done with you.”

  Cass Simmons reached back inside the store and swung up a sawed-off, double-barreled Greener, sweeping both hammers back with his left hand. “Get back, Ochoa!” he called out. “I got Blue Whistlers with split wads in here and a nervous trigger finger. Get back! They can settle this alone.”

  Ochoa spat and leaned against a post. Men ringed Shorty and Dave. Dave got up to meet a fast rush by the little man. Dave clinched and whirled Shorty around. A knee came up into his groin. He doubled up and had his head snapped back by a vicious uppercut. Down he went again. Shorty snatched up a splintered billet of wood. It swished over Dave’s head. Back it came again glancing from his right cheekbone. The splinters lanced cruelly into his flesh. He warded off another blow with his right arm, went underneath the billet and hit Shorty a smashing blow in the gut. Shorty dropped the billet and gripped his belly, staggering down the alleyway toward the bank of the creek, gasping for breath.

  Dave followed the little man, weaving back and forth, but with an unholy desire in his mind to close with the grinning puncher and end it all. Shorty turned and raised his hands to defend himself. Dave closed in, hit hard with both fists, sending Ganoe off balance, and then followed through with a perfectly timed right hook that drove Shorty back into the creek. Dave walked toward the struggling man. “Damn you,” spluttered Shorty, “I’ll cut you down for this!”

  Dave stepped into the cold water and gripped Shorty by the front of the shirt with his left hand. He slapped the puncher hard across the face three times and sent him down, flat on his back beneath the rushing water. Shorty came up in time to meet a boot that smashed him under for the last time. Dave leaned against the side of the store as two men jumped into the water and dragged the sodden, unconscious man to the bank. Blood trickled from Dave’s mouth. He picked a ragged splinter from his cheek and blew on his abraded knuckles. He limped back to the wagon and buckled on his gun belt watching Ochoa through half closed eyes. “Tough hombre,” said Ochoa softly. “Whang leather and steel, eh? Maybe Mick Ochoa will try you some day.”

  Dave picked up his hat and climbed wearily up to the wagon box. Simmons handed him the reins. “Get going,” he said. “You blew the lid off the pot for sure. You’re a real huckleberry, Yeamans. You value your life from now on, you’ll drop off them groceries and keep moving. Fast!”

  Dave slapped the reins on the rumps of the mules. “I’ll deliver the groceries,” he said quietly, “and what’s more I’ll stay to eat them.” He drove the wagon out into the middle of the street and did not look back.

  four

  IT WAS AFTER DUSK when Dave arrived at the ranch. He had stopped at the creek and washed carefully but no water would conceal the welt on the side of his face nor his fat lip. Two horses were tethered to the fence. Dave grimaced as he eased his leg from the wagon. He’d feel a hell of a lot sorer in the morning.

  The door of the house swung open flooding Dave with yellow lamplight. Two men stood behind Leslie staring curiously at Dave. “Good news,” she said. “I’ve hired two men.”

  Dave limped into the house. One of the men was an old-timer, bowlegged and burned by the sun. He held out a hand, eyeing Dave’s face curiously. “Hollis,” he said, “Monte Hollis. Useta work for John years ago down in the Sulphur Springs country. Me and Jesse here was over in Deep Springs yestiddy and heard John was needing some hands.”

  Dave liked him instantly. Jesse was almost a kid until you looked into the hard dark eyes. He was too damned good looking. His clothing was of good quality. But it was the two lowslung holsters, hanging from a broad, ornately carved buscadero belt, that warned Dave. “This is Jesse Vidal,” said Hollis. “Runs with me. A good hand.”

  “Howdy,” said Jesse. “You look like you’ve been in a brawl.”

  Leslie looked closely at Dave. “Were you in a fight?”

  “Yes. Had a runin with Bart Edrick. He put two of his boys on me, Leslie.”

  “I know Bart won’t fight,” she said scornfully.

  “No,” said Dave, “but Shorty Ganoe can, and did. For a little man he’s packed gunpowder with a short fuse. I’m lucky I licked him.”

  “You’ve got a cutter,” said Vidal quickly.

  Dave nodded. “Yeh. And I would have been cut down if I had tried to use it. Mick Ochoa was standing not ten feet away with his knife in his hand.”

  “Shorty won’t let a licking rest lightly,” said Leslie. “I warned you to be careful and avoid trouble. You disobeyed my orders!”

  Dave eyed her. “Maybe I work for you, Miss Leslie, but, orders or no, I’m not going to be choused by a grinning ape like Shorty.”

  “We’re in enough trouble now!”

  Dave turned slowly. “You asked me to work here,” he said quietly. “Maybe you’d like me to quit?”

  “Take it easy,” said Monte.

  Jesse inspected his slim hands. “Shoulda used the cutter,” he said. “More permanent.”

  “Shut up,” said Monte.

  Leslie bit her lip. “I’ll forget what happened,” she said quietly, “but hereafter, you’ll listen to my orders or else take your pay and leave.”

  “We’ll see,” said Dave. “You can’t turn the other cheek to those men.”

  Dave unloaded the wagon and then went to the bunkhouse after unhitching the team. Warbags lay on two of the bunks. Dave peeled off his shirt and went outside to wash. Jesse Vidal lounged around the side of the bunkhouse. “You sure don’t know how to talk to a lady,” he observed.

  Dave dried his face. “You teaching me manners?” he asked.

  Jesse took the makings from his pocket and rolled a smoke. “Where I come from a man don’t talk that way to a lady,” he said as he lit up.

  Dave pegged the kid then. Two-gun man. Phony gentleman. Looking for more sixgun notches. Dave combed his hair. “I don’t know where you come from, Vidal, and personally I don’t care,” he said, “but you mind your own business. There’s enough trouble around here as it is.”

  Vidal flipped away his smoke. “Meaning?”

  Dave placed his hands on his lean hips. “I’ve been choused from dawn up until now. I’m not in a mood to take any more.”

  There was a tenseness about Vidal now. His lips drew back. “I killed a man in Tucson for less than what you’ve said, Yeamans.”

  Dave rolled up his eyes. “My God,” he said sadly, “what have I done to deserve this?”

  Jess paled. He held out his slim hands. “I ain’t going to shoot,” he promised, “but you try to outdraw me. I figure you ought to know how good I am.”

  Dave grinned. “I’ll take your word for it. I never draw on an empty stomach.”

  Monte came around the side of the house and glanced quickly from one to the other of them. “Miss Leslie wants some water, Jesse,” he said.

  Jesse smiled. “All right, Monte.” He looked coldly at Dave and then walked away.

  “What the hell is going on?” asked Monte of Dave.

  “Your friend didn’t like
the way I talked to Miss Leslie.”

  “Chihuahua! The kid has a hairtrigger temper. A good man, but seems to think he can outdraw and outshoot any man in the west.”

  “He might get his chance around here,” said Dave dryly. “There are a few hombres around here who think the same way he does.”

  Monte leaned against the wall. “Play along with him,” he said. “Met Ben Thompson and Wes Hardin once. Ain’t never been the same since then.”

  “You get him aside and tell him we haven’t got time to be battling amongst ourselves.”

  “You don’t scare easy, Yeamans.”

  “I’ve been shot at and missed, and shot at and hit. I went to war when I was sixteen and was twenty when it was over.”

  Monte nodded. “Yeh, I know what you mean. But there’s a new breed of man growing up now, Dave. Can’t find enough fighting the usual way. Have to look for more.”

  “Bloodthirsty bastards.”

  Monte shook his head. “Not exactly. They want to be recognized as big men. They want to draw a cutter faster than anyone else they meet. Seems to be the only way they can prove they are big men.”

  Dave spat. “Then some day they find themselves facing a better man than they are. It never fails.”

  Monte shrugged. “I guess so. Miss Leslie wants Jesse and I to ride south of the canyon country and bring back about forty-fifty cows.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “How long you figuring on being gone?”

  “Give us a day to go south. A day or so to pick out the cows and three days to get them back.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll meet you at the creek in six days,”

  “You expect trouble?”

  “I don’t know. Make damned sure you get a bill of sale.”

  “Yeh. I know what you mean.”

  They all ate in the big cheery kitchen that night. Dave was quiet. Monte talked a lot but it was Jesse Vidal who stole the show. He paid a great deal of attention to Leslie, displaying better manners than most cowpokes. Dave thought he must come from a better family than the average punchers. Dave and Monte left the kitchen but Jesse gallantly volunteered to dry the dishes. Monte sat down on the bench outside of the bunkhouse and rolled a smoke. “Jesse sure has taken to that girl,” he said.

  “She’s lonely, Monte.”

  “Maybe Jesse is cutting you out?”

  Dave shook his head. “I stayed here to help her. I’m in no mood to get tangled with skirts. I’m heading south to Sonora as soon as I can get away.”

  “You expect gunplay around here?”

  “Yes. Things are shaping up damned ugly.”

  Hoofs drummed on the valley road. Dave stood up. “Let’s see who it is.”

  “One hoss.”

  Dave and Monte walked to the front of the house. Mack Muir drew rein at the gate, swung down and tethered his horse. “Leslie around, Yeamans?” he asked.

  “In the house.”

  Muir glanced at Monte. “Who’s this?”

  “Monte Hollis. Worked for John some years ago. Signed on with Miss Leslie today.”

  “Bueno! See you later.” Muir walked into the house.

  Monte puffed at his cigarette. “Miss Leslie’s gentleman friend?”

  “I guess so. He won’t like finding Jesse in the house.”

  “No more than Jesse will like him horning in.”

  “I hope the kid doesn’t start trouble.”

  “He won’t in front of her.”

  They sat down on the bench. They could see the three people in the brightly lit kitchen. Muir had a set look on his face. Shortly after Muir had entered the house, Jesse sauntered out and squatted beside Monte. He fashioned a smoke. “Who’s the redhead, Yeamans?” he asked.

  “Mack Muir.”

  “Yeh. Yeh. I know the name. But who is he?”

  “He has a small ranch not far from here. Been helping Miss Leslie.”

  Jesse lit his smoke. “He sweet on her?”

  Dave shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Push you out?”

  Dave flushed. Monte glanced at Jesse. “Shut up,” he said. “You get too damned nosy at times.”

  Jesse laughed. “Just figuring out the deal. No harm in that is there?”

  “No.”

  Jesse looked at the house. “He don’t like me,” he said softly.

  “Can’t understand that,” said Dave dryly. “I take it you don’t like him.”

  Jesse turned quickly. “No,” he said flatly, “I don’t.”

  “He’s a friend. We need friends.”

  “I can do enough shooting for three men.”

  Dave leaned back against the bunkhouse. “There’s more to this deal than shooting, Vidal.”

  Monte nodded. “We’d best turn in, Kid. We got a long ride tomorrow.”

  Jesse looked at the house. “I’ll wait awhile,” he said.

  Monte shrugged and went into the bunkhouse. Dave filled his pipe. Jesse sat on the bench, thrust out his long legs and looked at his fine, figured boots. “Nice place here, Yeamans. Plenty grazing and good water. A man could make out well here if he stocked the place.”

  “It’s one of the best spots in this country.”

  Jesse eyed him slyly. “Maybe you had it in your mind to try for this place?”

  Dave stood up. He was determined not to let this smart kid trigger his temper. “I’m going to bed,” he said.

  Jesse leaned back. “So long as you aren’t interested in this place, I guess you don’t care whether or nor I make a play for it.”

  “You might get more than you bargained for.”

  “Oh, hell! Running a ranch wouldn’t be any chore for me, Yeamans.”

  Dave went into the dark bunkhouse and sat down on his bed. He pulled off his boots. Monte stirred. “Cocky, ain’t he?” he said in a low voice.

  “I wish to hell you’da come alone, Monte.”

  “The kid and I been traveling together. Onct he helped me outa a shooting down Nogales way. I ain’t forgot it.”

  Dave peeled off his shirt and walked to a window. He could make out the dim figure of Leslie and Mack Muir near the front gate. Mack kissed her and left. The steady drumming of hoofs drifted back from the valley road. A hopeless feeling came over Dave as he stood there. Then he saw Jesse Vidal walking toward Leslie. They began to talk. She looked up into his handsome face. Dave dropped on his bunk.

  Monte got up and padded to the window. “He’s at it again,” he said. “Damned fool over a filly.”

  “He’s good looking,” said Dave quietly. “He’s got a lot of guts if he doesn’t get killed showing off.”

  Monte dropped on his bunk and lit a smoke. His wise eyes studied Dave over the flare of the lucifer. “Hell make a good man some day.”

  “I hope so.”

  Monte lay back. Dave could see the lined face as Monte puffed on the cigarette. “Seems to me you like that girl a lot more than you let on, Dave.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “You sure as hell don’t show it.”

  “I’m a slow man with the ladies, Monte.”

  Monte snorted. “She likes you.”

  “Sure likes to ride me.”

  “You sure don’t know wimmen. They allus ride hell outa a man they like. Seems as though they hunt around for the man closest to the ideal they got, then they hogtie him, marry him, and then spend the rest of their lives making him miserable trying to make him over into their ideal. Which they never succeed in.”

  “You sound like you know something about it.”

  Monte laughed. “Been married twice. Couldn’t live with either one of them.”

  The door opened and Jesse came in. He dropped on his bunk fully clothed. Dave looked at him through the dimness. Jesse rolled onto his side. “How we fixed for dinero, Monte?” he asked.

  “Couple of hundred, Kid.”

  “Not much, is it?”

  “You blew a lot of it down to Globe playing faro.�
�

  “Yeh. Dammit. I sure could use it now.”

  Dave closed his eyes. The kid was making a big play for Leslie. It wouldn’t set well with Mack Muir and it sure as hell didn’t set well with Dave Yeamans.

  five

  IT WAS ALMOST NOON of the day that Monte Hollis and Jesse Vidal had left for the new cattle when Dave heard a noise from the south, as though a boy had swiftly dragged a stick along the pales of a picket fence.

  Leslie came out of the house. “What was that, Dave?”

  Dave was saddling Brazos. “Thunder maybe.” He had heard that sound too many times in the sixties to mistake it. Gunfire and plenty of it. He swung up on the claybank and rode toward Leslie. “I’m taking a pasear down to Cup Valley.”

  Her eyes were grave. “That was shooting, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Stay here at the house.” He spurred Brazos out toward the road and then turned south, riding fast.

  It wasn’t until he was within half a mile of Cup Valley that he saw the swirling cloud of dust pour out of the valley entrance. The muffled bellowing of steers came to him. The sun flashed on metal. A rifle flatted off. A rider came out of the dust, sinking the steel into his horse. He turned once and fired and then came on toward Dave. Dave freed his Spencer and levered home a round. The cattle had been turned south and were pouring down the valley. The horseman hammered up and raised his Colt. Dave cursed and turned Brazos away, leveling his Spencer. “I’m from the Double W!” yelled Dave.

  The puncher drew rein. “I’m Cooper Jones! One of Mack Muir’s vaqueros! Mack left me and Billy Free with the steers! Billy has been downed!”

  Dave spurred Brazos toward the herd. “What happened?” he yelled.

  “Damned if I believe what I seen!” yelled back Jones. “Me and Billy was in the line shack rustling some grub when a coupla slugs came right through the boards! Then we heard someone chousing the cows! We run outside and Billy got it right through the head with a rifle slug! I lit outa the valley ahead of the cows to get help! They’s four men chousin’ the herd!”