.44 Caliber Man (13 page)

For a moment
Branch studied the prospective job seeker. Boone was not a
prepossessing person, having a face which told of a vicious, sly
nature. However, the mustanger regarded him favorably on those very
grounds. Such a man would not be over-burdened with scruples,
especially when currying favor for a job.

‘
We won’t if we don’t get the contract,’ Branch stated.
‘’Course, if that Scot warn’t around, Monaltrie’d likely find for
us.’

‘
After we’ve wide-looped one of his kin?’ Moore said with as
near derision as he dare show.

‘
Not us,’ Branch told the men. ‘If anything happens to him,
who’ll folks blame—The Flores gang.’

‘
What’ll we do, Sprig?’ Sam asked.

‘
Now I’d say that all depends on how bad Hacker here wants to
work for me,’ Branch replied and outlined his scheme.

Leaving the
hotel, Ma, Dusty and Colin went to Hoffer’s general store. There Ma
asked to see the owner in private. From the look on his face,
Hoffer guessed at the nature of her business and did not care to
discuss it. However, he led Ma into the rear of the building.

A rancher, in
town to buy supplies, came over and started talking with Dusty and
Colin drifted away from them. Walking around the store, he looked
at the goods on display. While standing examining a fishing rod, he
saw the front door open and a hook-nosed, gangling man entered.

‘
You Tam Breda’s kin?’ Hacker Boone asked, coming to the young
Scot’s side and holding his voice down.

‘
Aye. That I am.’

‘
He’s down to the livery barn, asking to see you.’

‘
I’ll be along as soon as—’ Colin began.

‘
Tam got stoved up in an accident,’ Boone interrupted. noticing
the way Colin looked in Dusty’s direction.

‘
I’ll come right away,’ Colin decided.

For a moment
Colin hesitated. Dusty still appeared to be engrossed in
conversation with the rancher, so Colin did not wish to intrude.
Turning, the young Scot followed Boone from the store. On the
sidewalk, the lanky man said he would go and fetch the doctor, then
hurried away. One of Boone’s stipulations before agreeing to help
with Branch’s plan had been that he should take no active part in
it.

Concerned about
Breda’s welfare, Colin started to cross the street towards the
barn. He remembered the warnings given by Dusty, Mark and the Kid
and wondered if he might be walking into a trap. Yet the man who
brought the message was white and the Kid had stated that the
Flores gang consisted of Mexicans or half-breeds.

Approaching the
open door of the barn, Colin slowed down and looked inside. He saw
nothing to alarm him or give warning of danger. Then a low moan
rose from the interior and Colin plunged through the door. From the
corner of his eye, he saw a shape standing against the wall. Even
as he tried to turn, something hissed through the air and crashed
on to his head. Lights burst before Colin’s eyes, then blackness
descended and he crumpled forward to the floor.

‘
Got him!’ Eric Trimble grunted, holstering the revolver with
which he had struck the Scot down.

‘
Grab hold and haul him out back,’ his brother ordered, moving
from where he had stood and attracted Colin’s attention.

Moore rose from
inside an empty stall, grinning as he studied the result of his
impersonation of an injured man. Darting across, he watched the
brothers take hold of Colin’s arms. However he was not allowed to
stand in idleness.

‘
Go out back and let Sprig know we’ve got him,’ Sam
ordered.

‘
Sure,’ Moore agreed and was about to go when he looked through
the door. ‘Hell’s fire! Dusty Fog’s coming this way.’

‘
What’ll we do?’ Eric croaked, releasing Colin’s arm and
showing signs of contemplating flight.

‘
Stay put!’ Sam spat back. ‘We’ll never get another chance to
lay hands on this bastard. Slinky, drag him across there and then
hide. You get behind the door, Sam. We’ll give Fog what this
son-of-a-bitch got.’

Ma’s interview
did not take long. Almost before the door closed Hoffer began to
tell her his troubles. While everybody wanted to pay with
notes-of-hand, the companies who supplied his goods demanded cash
not paper promises. Knowing the state of affairs in Texas, Ma could
see the storekeeper’s point. She made her offer to pay at the
completion of the horse-hunt, but Hoffer hesitated and hedged.
Giving a shrug, Ma turned and stalked from the room.

‘
I’m sorry, Mrs. Schell,’ Hoffer was saying as he followed Ma
into the store. ‘But you can see my position—?’

‘
Sure,’ Ma replied, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘I’ll—
Dusty! Where’s Colin?’

‘
Feller come in and told him something,’ the rancher explained
as Dusty turned to look around. ‘Then they went out
together.’

Springing
across to the window, Dusty looked out. A low curse broke from his
lips as he saw Colin was alone and entering the barn. It seemed
that the young Scot had forgotten all the floating outfit’s
warnings and their arrangements. Most likely he was walking into a
trap.

‘
What’s up, Dusty?’ called the rancher, watching the small
Texan leap to and jerk open the door. ‘Can I help?’

‘
Stay out of it, Stormy,’ Dusty replied, not wanting his friend
to become involved in a fuss with the Flores brothers, and went out
fast.

Moving around
the counter, Ma crossed the room with some speed. For all that, by
the time she reached the sidewalk Dusty was approaching the front
of the livery barn. Looking along the street, Ma saw Mark, April
and Temple leaving the Black Bear. However she did not wait to
attract their attention but followed Dusty.

Alert for
trouble or danger, Dusty slowed down as he drew near to the barn’s
door. Looking inside, he saw Colin sprawled face down on the floor
by the stalls. Without drawing his guns, Dusty stepped through the
door. He acted as if his full attention was centered on the
unconscious Scot. Yet his whole being was at hair-trigger
alertness. A slight movement to his right gave warning of a lurking
enemy in that direction.

Which was just
what the waiting men hoped would happen.

Almost sick
with fear, knowing the dangerous nature of their proposed victim,
Eric lunged from his place at the left of the door. He swept his
revolver around parallel to the ground, aiming it to pass under the
brim of Dusty’s Stetson and strike the base of the skull. Caught
there, the small Texan would be unable to cause them any
trouble.

At the last
moment Dusty bent his legs and ducked under the revolver. His felt
it brush the crown of his hat in passing and prepared to deal with
its user. Taken by surprise, Eric continued to move forward.
Drawing up and bending his left arm, Dusty propelled its elbow
against his attacker’s solar plexus. The force of the unexpected
blow halted Eric’s advance and hurled him backwards. His chest
front felt as if it had been caved in and the breath burst from his
lungs as he sat down hard.

While dealing
with his first assailant, Dusty did not forget to stay alert. He
knew the men were not members of the Flores gang, which gave him
some small comfort. Without worrying over who they might be, or why
they had attacked Colin, he gave the barn a quick scrutiny. A small
man rose from concealment in the stall near to where Colin lay and
there was that cuss who had attracted Dusty’s attention from the
right side of the door. Three to one at least. Big odds. However
Dusty had one detail in his favor.

Back at the OD
Connected, Ole Devil Hardin had a servant thought by most folk to
be Chinese. Tommy Okasi was Oriental, but hailed from the Japanese
islands, not China. When he came to America, he had brought certain
fighting skills from his country and passed them on to the smallest
male member of the Hardin, Fog and Blaze clan. Dusty figured his
knowledge of ju-jitsu and karate, all but unknown in the Western
Hemisphere, backed by his unexpected strength and
roughhouse-fighting skill gave him something of an edge.

Seeing his
brother’s attack fail, Sam leapt forward. From striking Eric, Dusty
pivoted around. Clenching his fight fist, he avoided Sam’s reaching
hands. From his left hip, the right arm lashed around in a powerful
swing towards Sam’s head. The way Dusty used his fist looked
awkward to eyes which knew only Western methods, but proved mighty
effective. Passing over Sam’s reaching hands, the fist met his
face. Its protruding second knuckle caught the center of Sam’s top
lip hard enough to spin him around and send him stumbling away.

Moore left the
stall, to which he had returned after dragging Colin across the
barn, and prepared to take cards. With a yell that was three-parts
fear, he snatched up a pitchfork that leaned against the side of
the stall. Gripping its handle as if using a rifle and bayonet, he
moved forward ready to help Sam. When the lanky man failed to deal
with Dusty, Moore charged in. As he came into range, he drew back
the fork and launched a savage thrust.

From knocking
Sam aside, Dusty spun around to meet the fresh danger. Already the
sharp twin tines were driving towards his body. Swiftly Dusty
twisted himself aside, bringing his right hand down to grasp the
pitchfork just below its head. With a savage jerk, he forced the
fork outwards and downwards. A wail of shock broke from Moore.
Before he could prevent it or halt his attack, the tines spiked
into the ground behind his intended victim. Interlacing his
fingers, Dusty spun around and crashed them into Moore’s back as
the man was forced to bend forward. Again Moore howled. The tines
snapped under his weight. However the handle of the fork, which he
still gripped, acted as a fulcrum. Carried on by his own impetus
and the force of Dusty’s blow, Moore turned a somersault, passed
through the door and lit down on his back in the street.

Through the
mists of pain caused by the blow to his lip, Sam saw Dusty’s back
turn to him and took the chance it offered. Thrusting himself
forward, he locked his arms around Dusty’s torso from behind.
Feeling the surging power of the small Texan’s powerful biceps, Sam
decided that he needed help.

‘
Eric!’ Sam yelled, swinging Dusty’s feet from the floor. ‘Help
me, damn you. Help me!’

Given that much
of an advantage, Eric was only too willing to comply. Sucking in
deep gasps of air to re-fill his tormented lungs, he hurled himself
towards his brother and the small Texan. Seeing Dusty Fog held in
such a vulnerable manner, Eric figured to repay the blow
interest.

The trouble was
that Dusty did not regard himself as being helpless. Although his
arms were pinioned to his sides, the same did not apply to his
legs. If anything, being suspended in such a way helped rather than
hindered him. Up lashed his right leg, sending the toe of its boot
under Eric’s jaw. The kick landed hard, flinging him in a spinning
line across the barn.

Surging around,
Sam flung Dusty from him. Despite landing on his feet, Dusty could
not prevent himself from colliding solidly with the wall. Following
him up, Sam turned him and crashed a punch to the side of his head.
A second blow drove into the hard muscles of Dusty’s belly,
bringing a grunt of pain. Then Sam’s hands clamped hold of his
neck. Drawing Dusty forward, Sam slammed him savagely against the
wall and the fingers crushed at his throat, threatening to strangle
him.

On the street,
Moore dragged himself erect. He was so engrossed in his aching body
and thoughts of revenge that he was oblivious of his surroundings.
Turning, he started to jerk out his revolver as a preliminary to
re-entering the barn. As he moved forward, a hand clamped hold of
his right shoulder and swung him outwards. To his surprise, he
found himself faced with Ma Schell. Releasing the shoulder, she
uncorked a roundhouse swing. Her whole body turned with the punch,
adding its weight to the clenched right fist. Being a mustanger’s
wife was not a sedentary occupation and Ma’s buxom frame carried
hard muscles. More than that, she knew how to throw a punch. Her
knuckles connected solidly on Moore’s jaw, snapping his head over
and pitching him sideways. From the way he landed, he would not be
rising for some time.

Shaking her
right hand and making a wry face, Ma summed up the situation. She
knew who Moore worked for, so guessed why Colin had been lured into
the barn. From various sounds which reached her ears and the lack
of gunshots, she concluded that Dusty was tangling barehanded with
more of Branch’s men. Most likely he would need help, despite those
fancy tricks learned from Tommy Okasi. Which raised the point of
how she might best give him assistance.

Ma knew her
limitations. Sure she packed a useful punch and had just stretched
Slinky Moore on the ground. That did not mean she could achieve
similar success against the Trimbles or Sprig Branch. Besides,
there was a much better way to help the small Texan.

Turning to look
in the direction of the Black Bear, she saw no sign of Mark
Counter’s party. Most likely they had not noticed Dusty cross to
the barn, so turned along an alley with the intention of returning
to Ma’s house. Giving a low snort, Ma expanded her lungs and cut
loose with a yell that rang along the street.

‘
Mark! Mark Counter! Dusty’s needing help!’

A point with
which Dusty was in agreement. Only he did not figure on waiting
until somebody came to give it to him. Sam’s fingers closed on his
throat and the man drew him forward for another crash into the
wall. Something had to be done, and fast.