A Horse Called Mogollon (Floating Outfit Book 3) (9 page)

A small crowd of civilians had
been attracted by the fight. While none of them had offered to
intervene on Mark
’s behalf, they clearly appreciated the manner in which he
dealt with the sergeant.

A trained cavalryman, Heaps managed to
lessen the force of his landing on the wooden boards. He lit down
rolling and came to a halt by the wall of the store. Thrusting
himself on to his knees, he snarled a curse and started to knock
open the flap of his holster.

Down flashed
Mark
’s right
hand, lifting its Colt from the holster in a flickering blur of
movement. Cocking back the hammer and depressing the trigger
after
the gun had cleared
leather and pointed away from him, Mark leveled the eight-inch
barrel by instinctive alignment. Up so close, that method offered
almost as much accuracy as taking sight in the formal
manner.

Heaps would never be closer to death
than at that moment.

Little more than a year had
elapsed since the meeting at the Appomattox Court House had brought
an end to the War Between The States. For almost two years before
that, the sight of a Union-blue uniform had nearly always meant
shooting to the blond giant. Only by an effort of will did Mark
refrain from bringing his draw to its ultimate conclusion by
removing his thumb from the hammer
’s spur. If he had done so, the hammer
would have flashed forward, struck and ignited the waiting
percussion cap, detonated the powder charge and sent a bullet to
tear its way into the sergeant’s skull.

‘
Get
your hand off it,
hombre!’
Mark ordered.

Concentrating on preventing
Heaps
’s
attempt to pull a gun, Mark did not see Noris preparing to rejoin
the fight. Writhing clear of the moaning, agony-contorted Going,
Noris knelt up and reached for his holstered Army Colt. With the
big Texan’s attention on Heaps, the soldier felt certain that he
could draw and shoot undetected. Nor did Noris expect any
repercussions to follow his actions. No officer in the Occupation
Army would dare deal too harshly with a Federal soldier who shot
down an un-Reconstructed Rebel under the prevailing
conditions.

Once again Libby saw the danger
to Mark, but was less suitably positioned to help him avert it. Her
shotgun rested in its boot on the inside of the
wagon
’s
driving box and her Derringer was in the reticule which she had
left on the store’s counter when coming to see the cause of the
commotion.

Swinging her gaze around the
onlookers, she saw a familiar figure amongst them. It was a man who
she believed would dare the wrath of the Union Army by intervening,
even if none of the other spectators showed signs of doing
so.

‘
Tam!’
Libby shouted and saw that the man she addressed was already taking
cards in the affair.

‘
Leave
your gun where it is, soldier!’

Cold and authoritative, the
words which smote Noris
’s ears had a Texas drawl underlaid by a Scottish
burr. They also carried an implied threat that caused the soldier’s
head to swivel hurriedly around. What Noris saw caused him to
snatch his fingers from the flap of the holster as if the leather
had suddenly become red hot.

From his low-crowned
gray Stetson to the
soles of his high-heeled, spur-decorated boots, the speaker did not
exceed five foot nine inches. He made up in hard-muscled breadth
what he lacked in height, but without appearing to be heavy or
clumsy. Clothed in a buckskin shirt and Mexican-styled trousers, he
had a gun belt about his waist which supported a walnut-handled
Dragoon Colt tied low on his right thigh, and a Scottish dirk swung
at his left hip. Neither the revolver nor the knife particularly
interested Noris at that moment. Instead, he stared at the short,
double-barreled ten gauge shotgun that the man was lining in his
direction. Tanned, strong-looking, the man’s rugged features
expressed no hint of hesitation nor weakness.

‘
What’re you do—?’ Noris croaked, remembering that he had
seen the intruder visiting the colonel’s quarters at the Army post
the previous evening.

‘
I said
leave your gun holstered,’ the man interrupted. ‘Then see to
your
amigo.
This’s gone far enough.’

A view with which
1st Lieutenant Lebel
appeared to be in complete agreement, although probably for
different reasons. On his way to visit the de Brioudes, he had seen
the fight and come to stop it.

‘
All
right, that’s enough,’ Lebel barked, thrusting his way through the
crowd. ‘Put your gun away, cowboy!’

‘
When
I’m sure I won’t need it again,’ Mark replied and nodded to the
non-com. ‘Which won’t be until
after
your kicker there closes his holster.’

Suddenly Lebel became uncomfortably
aware that he had no real jurisdiction in the affair, except as it
affected a member of the United States Army. Nor had he the means
to enforce his will upon the big blond civilian. So he swung his
attention to Heaps.

‘
On
your feet, sergeant!’ Lebel snapped. ‘Close your holster. What the
hell’s been happening here?’

Forcing himself upright, Heaps
sullenly refastened the
flap of his holster. The sergeant sensed danger
for himself. One of the younger officers at the post, Lebel still
knew how to protect himself with the
Manual of Field Regulations’
disciplinary powers.
So Heaps knew that he must answer. He wondered how to do it in a
way that would conform with the strict standing orders laid down by
the post’s commanding officer regarding the relationship of his men
and the local civilians. A career officer, with no political or
‘liberal’ axe to grind, the colonel had always insisted that the
soldiers under his command should steer clear of friction or open
clashes with the native Texans. He would, therefore, take a very
serious line of action should he learn why the three enlisted men
had attacked the blond giant.

‘
They
jumped the big feller there for no reason I could see, mister,’
announced the man with the shotgun, before Heaps could produce any
acceptable explanation. ‘Only they sure as hell picked on the wrong
laddie for their games.’

Darting an indignant scowl at
the intruder, Heaps also recognized him as the
colonel
’s
visitor and left unsaid his proposed denial. Lebel looked at the
civilian for a moment, then swung his gaze back to the
sergeant.

‘
How
about it, Heaps?’ the lieutenant demanded, not quite sure of his
ground and wanting to avoid taking chances of doing the wrong
thing.

‘
Why
don’t we say it was a piece of horsing around that got a mite too
rough, mister?’ Mark suggested, lowering the hammer and holstering
his Colt. ‘It’ll likely be easier for all concerned that
way.’

‘
I’ll
go with you on that, friend,’ declared the man with the
shotgun.

‘
Is
that what happened, Sergeant Heaps?’ Lebel insisted, not willing to
appear too openly influenced by the civilians’ comments.

‘
It was
like the bee—big feller said—sir,’ the sergeant growled, looking
slightly relieved. ‘We was just horsing around and it got too
rough.’

‘
Do you
want to make charges against these men?’ Lebel asked the big blond,
indicating the three soldiers.

‘
Nope,’
Mark replied. ‘I’m willing to forget the whole thing, if they
are.’

Feelings of friendship for the
soldiers did not influence Mark
’s attitude. The last thing he wanted was for the
incident to be taken any further. If it should be, the whole of the
previous night’s affair would be brought into the open. So far
Lansing and the other card players had kept quiet about what they
had found on breaking into Mark’s room. That was in part due to Ben
Thompson’s warning about the blond giant’s probable reaction to
idle gossip on the subject. In addition, the
Vicomte
had asked that they should not
embarrass his wife by discussing the ‘attempted attack’ upon her.
While disinterested in how the truth would affect the
Vicomtesse,
Mark had no wish to
have Libby’s participation made public.

‘
Very
well,’ Lebel said coldly. ‘If you feel that way, we’ll let the
matter drop. Take these men back to the post, sergeant. I’ll be
seeing
you
later.’

‘
Yo!’
Heaps grunted. ‘Help Going up, Noris, and move out.’

‘
My
apologies for this incident,’ Lebel said stiffly to Mark, watching
the three soldiers depart.

‘
It’s
forgotten,’ the big blond drawled. ‘Likely they didn’t mean any
real harm with their fooling.’

Letting out a sniff that might have
meant anything, the lieutenant made a smart about-face and marched
off after his men. Satisfied that there would be no further
developments, the crowd broke up and moved away.

‘
You
said that as if you meant it,’ Libby remarked, walking towards the
big blond. She looked by him and continued, ‘I’m real pleased to
see you, Tam.’

Mark turned his attention to the man
whose intervention had most likely saved his life. Stepping from
the sidewalk, Libby went forward with a smile and her right hand
extended. Showing equal pleasure, the stocky man cradled the
shotgun on the crook of his left arm.

Although his rescuer had not made any
adjustments to them since taking the shotgun out of line on Private
Noris, the blond giant noticed that the hammers rested at the safe
half-cock position. If the man had been bluffing, it was a safe
enough bluff. Nobody in his right mind would take a chance when
looking into the yawning twin tubes of a ten-gauge
shotgun.

‘
You
look younger and lovelier than when I last saw you, Libby,’ the man
answered, shaking hands with every indication of
pleasure.

‘
And
you’re as big a liar,’ Libby smiled, clearly delighted by the
compliment. ‘Tam, this young feller you helped’s Big Rance
Counter’s boy, Mark. Mark, get acquainted with Tam
Breda.’

‘
Howdy,
Tam,’ greeted Mark as the man reluctantly released Libby’s hand to
take his. ‘Say, you’re Colin Farquharson’s kinsman.’

‘
Aye,’
agreed Breda. ‘I heard he was working for you, Libby.’

‘
Yes,’
the blonde replied. ‘Colin’s with us. He’s engaged to marry
Jeanie.’

‘
Bueno!’
enthused Breda. ‘Are they in town the now?’

‘
Nope.
They stayed behind to move camp on to the Upper Guadalupe. We’re
headed out to join them as soon’s we’re loaded.’

‘
I
heard about Colin’s run-in with the Flores bunch, Libby,’ Breda
said, sounding a trifle defensive. ‘Trouble being that I was on
business in Austin and he’d handed them their needings before I
could come back.’

‘
Ole
Colin sure did that,’ Mark put in, taking a liking to the stocky
man. ‘Hey! I didn’t thank you for cutting in and helping me,
Tam.’

‘
Any
friend of Libby’s can count on my help every time,’ Breda replied,
showing his relief at finding the blonde and Mark did not hold it
against him that he had failed to come to his kinsman’s assistance.
‘I’m going up to Kerrville, Libby. I’d admire to ride along with
you.’

‘
Feel
free,’ offered Libby. ‘We’ll be pulling out after we’ve ate at
noon.’

‘
Why
don’t you both come down to the Grand Hotel and eat with me?’ Breda
suggested.

‘
That’ll suit us fine,’ confirmed Libby and Mark nodded his
agreement.

‘
Say,
Mark,’ Breda remarked. ‘Why did those fellers jump you? I’d reckon
they was waiting for you to come out of the store.’

‘
I
couldn’t say,’ Mark answered truthfully, for he would not lie to
Breda nor explain the reason. ‘Just ornery, likely.’

‘
Likely,’ grunted Breda. ‘I’ve a few things to tend to, so
I’ll see you at the Grand around noon.’

‘
He’s a
nice feller,’ Mark commented as Breda strolled off along the
sidewalk.

‘
Real
nice,’ Libby agreed, then a slight flush came to her cheeks as she
saw her companion’s smile. ‘Shucks, he grew up with Trader and me
back around San Antonio. Went mustanging with us a few times. Then
he up and rode off to join Captain Jack Cureton’s Rangers just
afore the War.’

‘
They
did good work,’ Mark admitted.

‘
Tam
couldn’t help being away on business while Colin was facing up to
the Flores boys,’ Libby declared.

‘
I
didn’t reckon he could,’ Mark assured her. ‘Like I said, he’s a
real nice feller and he’d do to ride the river with.’