Autumn of the Gun (44 page)

“I don't think so,” said Nathan. “Mr. Holliday was a mite upset when his coffee was spilled, but he's gotten over it. Haven't you, Holliday?”

“Yes,” Holliday choked, almost in a whisper.

“I'll wait on you myself,” said Elsie, “and if you'll bring your soiled shirt to me, I will see that it's washed and ironed.”

“Never mind,” Holliday said in his clipped, emotionless voice. “I am leaving.”

Seizing his top hat and cane, Holliday stalked out the door without looking back.

“I'm sorry,” the offending waitress sobbed. “I was afraid of him.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Nathan. “Elsie, it was an accident. He may not come back, and if he doesn't, you won't be hurt.”

“I agree,” Elsie said, “but I'm not all that sure about you. He's a dangerous man.”

“When the occasion calls for it,” said Nathan, “so am I.”

Tameka and Wovoka, the Lipan Apaches Frank Bell employed to gentle his horses, had a hut of their own, and Wes Tremayne spent much of his free time there, listening to the aged Indians talk about horses. Having spent most of their lives near the white man, the old ones spoke English well and they seemed amused at Wes Tremayne's interest. Wes spoke to them regarding the three men Frank Bell had hired, and found them sharing his own suspicions.

“We know of them,” said Wovoka. “They steal from us three summers ago.”

“You should have hunted them down,” Wes said. “Why didn't you?”

“We still with Lipan tribe,” said Tameka. “Have treaty with white man. Chief say we not fight.”

“A treaty with the white man shouldn't allow white outlaws to steal from you,” Wes said. “You're not living with the tribe now. I believe these and other whites will steal from Frank Bell as they once stole from your people. Will you not fight?”

“We fight,” said Wovoka. “We will.”

“You have the Winchester, the long gun?”

“Si,”
they replied in a single voice.

“Starting tonight,” said Wes, “here is what I wish you to do.”

Quickly, Wes laid out his plan for protecting the horses, and the old Indians nodded in satisfaction. Wes then went . on to the house, where he would make Frank Bell aware of as much of the plan as he wished the rancher to know.

“Mr. Bell,” Wes said, “I have a plan to protect the horses.”

“Let's hear it,” said Bell.

“At night, move all the horses into one of the barns. Post Gerdes, Withers, and Strum outside with Winchesters. Order them to shoot anybody approaching the barn between dusk and dawn.”

“I reckon that's about all we can do,” said Bell. “Where are you plannin' to be?”

“Out there in the dark, with a Winchester,” Wes said. “I'll go wherever I'm needed the most. If the rustlers strike, we'll have to hit them as hard as we can, because there'll be no tracking them until dawn.”

“I'll take a Winchester and join you, then,” said Bell.

“No,” Wes said. “You may be needed to defend the house. Until this is settled, I'd like Rebecca to spend her nights there with you and Martha.”

Bell was quick to agree, while Rebecca was reluctant.

“Why can't I bring my gun and come with you?”

“Because I don't know what to expect,” said Wes. “If I end up shooting at shadows, I want to be sure you're not one of them.”

Wes had suggested that Bell relay orders to Gerdes, Strum, and Withers, and Bell did so. Well before dark, Tameka and Wovoka, armed with Winchesters, took the position Wes had assigned them. After supper, Wes took his Winchester and left the Bell house, disappearing into the gathering darkness.

“I hope it all works out according to his plans,” said Rebecca.

“He seems like a resourceful young man,” Martha Bell said.

After five quiet nights, Frank Bell began to doubt the outlaws would strike.

“Somebody has to report to them,” said Wes. “They'll want to know where the horses are being kept and what kind of defense you have planned.”

“How do you suppose they'd be learning that?” Bell asked.

“I reckon we'll know more about that after the attack,” said Wes.

Outwardly there was no charge in the ranch routine, except that all the horses were now being taken into one of the barns at night. The three men Frank Bell had hired were dutifully taking their positions at dusk. The Indian horse trainers retired to their hut at the end of the day. Only Wes Tremayne knew that the pair of Lipan Apaches crept out into the night with their deadly Winchesters, their eyes on the trio standing watch at the barn. The attack came late on a Sunday night. Winchesters roared in the darkness and ranch house windows exploded with a tinkling crash. Seizing his own Winchester, Frank Bell fired at muzzle flashes. He doubted the effectiveness of his fire until somewhere beyond the line of marauders another Winchester cut loose. Wes Tremayne! They had a cross fire going!

“Back off and ride,” somebody shouted.

The attack on the house ended as abruptly as it had begun. Frank Bell ceased firing, and in the silence that followed, there were footsteps on the back porch.

“Hold your fire,” Wes said. “I'm comin' in.”

He came in, Winchester under his arm, and Rebecca ran to him.

“What about the horses?” Bell asked.

“Let's go have a look,” said Wes. “There was some shooting near the barn.”

One of the big barn doors stood open, and a horse nickered.

“Tameka,” Wes called. “Wovoka.”

Two figures separated themselves from the shadows, Winchesters at the ready.

“What's the meaning of this?” Bell asked.

“I told them of the thieves,” said Wes, “and asked them to watch the barn, to guard against the rustlers.”

“That's what I expected of Gerdes, Strum, and Withers,” Bell said. “Where are they?”

“Them rustlers,” said Wovoka. “Them steal, them die.”

He vanished into the shadows, Tameka following.

“Come on, Mr. Bell,” Wes said. “They have something to show you.”

The clouds slipped away and a pale quarter moon added its light to that of the distant twinkling stars. They reached Withers' body first. The three horses he had taken had been tethered to a pine limb, and were nickering their fear at the smell of blood. Gates and Strum were soon found in similar positions, just as dead, near the horses they had taken.

“Well, by God,” said Bell, “while the rest of the bunch was blastin' hell out of the house, these three varmints was takin' the horses.”

“Yes,” Wes said, “the attack on the house was a diversion. The three at the barn were part of the gang and were taking the horses.”

“I played right into their hands when I hired the varmints,” said Bell.

“It couldn't have worked out better if you'd planned it,” Wes said. “We were able to take them on our terms.”

“But how did you know? How did Tameka and Wovoka ... ?”

“I didn't know anything for sure,” said Wes. “I've had enough dealings with outlaws that I didn't trust the men you had hired, and when I spoke to Tameka and Wovoka, they recognized Gerdes, Strum, and Withers as horse thieves who had stolen from the Lipan Apaches in the past. They saw a chance to even an old score, and I had them watching the three hombres you hired.”

“Well, hell, you could of told me, and—”

“It would have been the word of two old Indians against

that of three white men,” Wes finished. ”Now you can see with your own eyes what these men were about to do. Is there any doubt in your mind?”

“None,” said Bell. “I just wish we could have gunned down the others.”

“You don't know that we didn't hit some of them,” Wes said. “We were shooting at their muzzle flashes. Come first light, we'll take a look.”

“There'll be tracks,” said Bell. “Since they didn't get away with any horses, there ain't much reason for 'em ridin' for the border. Let's go after the varmints.”

“I'd agree,” Wes said, “but we'd be leaving the ranch and the horses unprotected.”

“Yesterday, I'd have felt that way myself,” said Bell, “but no more. I reckon Wovoka and Tameka are worth a dozen white men, even if I knew that many I could trust.”

“Give them the run of the ranch, with the authority they need,” Wes said. “These old ones take pride in the horses they have gentled, and they'll greet horse thieves with lead, just as they did tonight.”

“I believe it,” said Bell. “There's a hell of a lot more to them than just horse savvy. I aim to visit that Lipan village and hire some more of them, if they'll come.”

During his off hours, Nathan made it a point to visit the elegant Oriental Saloon. On one of those occasions, he encountered both Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. Neither man had anything to say, but when Nathan's eyes met theirs, there was no mistaking the open hostility. Nathan had a beer and left the saloon.

“Rustling's on the upswing,” Mel said when Nathan next visited the Holts. “Virgil and the rest of the Earps has been accusin' the McLaurys and the Clantons.”

“I know,” said Nathan. “I've been hearing the same talk. You're right. I reckon some powder will be burnt before this is over.”

Norris Lanham had some advice for Nathan.

“We can't keep them out of the saloon, Nathan, but we can avoid getting sucked into the fight. Don't give any one of them an excuse to pull a gun.”

“Suppose I catch one of them slick dealing?”

“You'll have to call them on that,” said Norris. “Just try to avoid killing anybody. I'd not want you shot in the back as a grudge killing.”

“You think they'd resort to that over a poker hand?”

“Probably not the Earps or Holliday,” Norris said. “I suppose it's a matter of pride with them, but not so with the McLaurys and the Clantons. They were here long before the Earps and Holliday arrived, and there were plenty of unsolved murders, every one of them from ambush.”

“Holiday and the Earps are pushing their luck, then,” said Nathan. “It's one thing to have a man face you in an even break, and another to have him shoot you in the back.”

“True,” Lanham said, “but such an ambush could backfire. If Holliday or one of the Earps were ambushed, there wouldn't be much doubt as to the guilty parties. That would result in open season on the Clantons and McLaurys, and they would become outlaws, to be shot on sight.”

“Then the Earps and Holliday are trying to push the Clantons and McLaurys into an open fight,” said Nathan.

“I wouldn't want you crediting me with the possibility,” Lanham replied, “but can you come up with anything else that makes sense?”

“No,” said Nathan. “There's a reason for everything, and only a damn fool gets himself gunned down in another man's fight. I'm going to just stand back and watch this one from the sidelines. What's Holliday's stake in this, besides his being friendly with Wyatt Earp?”

“Holliday has more cause for a grudge than the Earps,” Lanham said. “For the past several years, there's been a rash of stage holdups. Last March, the McLaurys took the stand and testified against Holliday, implicating him in a stage robbery in which two men were killed. Holliday was acquitted, but it resulted in his everlasting hatred for Frank and Tom McLaury.”

“That's one part of this running feud that makes sense,” said Nathan. “I saw Holliday walk into a saloon in Las Vegas, New Mexico and shoot a man tending bar. Nobody knew why. I reckoned it was a grudge shooting.”

“Many a man started out carrying a grudge,” Lanham said, “and by the time he has satisfied his grudge, he's become a killer with a reputation that follows him the rest of his life.”

“That's the gospel truth,” said Nathan. “I know at least one man who's ridden that trail. It's a hard life, and there's only one escape. I recall some words—maybe from the Bible—that says a man who lives by the sword dies by it. I reckon those words apply to a gun.”

“I'm afraid they do,” Lanham said, his eyes on the well-used twin Colts thonged to Nathan's hips.

Nathan was on the street when Tom McLaury and Ike Clanton drove a wagon into town for supplies. Holliday discovered the pair was in town and began cursing them as they began loading the wagon at Brown's Grocery, next to the New Orleans Restaurant. Norris Lanham stepped out of the restaurant, joining Nathan.

“Who's the hombre siding Holliday?” Nathan asked.

“Morgan Earp,” said Lanham.

Nathan was awakened by gunfire at first light. Empty was reared up on his hind legs, looking out the window. Nathan got up and looked out, but saw nobody.

“We're awake now, Empty,” Nathan said. “We might as well have breakfast.”

Empty was let into the kitchen to be fed, and Nathan entered the New Orleans Restaurant, where Norris Lanham was already seated. Nathan pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from the saloon owner.

“I heard shooting,” said Nathan. “I reckoned the fight had started.”

“No,” Lanham said. “I don't know what that shooting was about, but there was other trouble last night. Last night, while Ike Clanton was eating supper, Holliday took to cussing him and challenged him to a fight. Holliday was backed by the Earps. But Ike wasn't armed and just walked away. Later, I hear Ike was pistol whipped by Virgil Earp. There's Tom McLaury at that table over yonder against the wall. I'm hoping he'll finish eating and leave before Holliday and the Earps show up.”