Buchanan Says No (9 page)

"Durfee looked snake-bit, last I saw of him," he an
swered after a moment.

"You been riding for him very long, Mike?"

"Three drives."

"So you knew about not coming into Bella?"

"I knew
,”
Sandoe said, and there was a pause while
both men savored the aroma of cigar smoke. When Power
spoke again his voice was reminiscent, his words seemingly
apropos of nothing very important.

"Don't suppose you ever tasted the good old Army life,
did you?"

"Not me."

"The Army's a great teacher," Power said. "More effi
cient than the civilian way. Less wasted motion,"

"I guess."

"Taught me something that's been turned into pure
gold. Discipline. Learn the Army way, Mike, and you're
three jumps ahead of every civilian you'll meet."

"Meaning I shouldn't have jumped the traces last
night?"

"Bill Durfee's a good man
?
" Power told him. "
I
go back a ways with Bill. He soldiered under me against
Sant
a
Anna. Been working together ever since we decided
to make our fortunes on the outside."

"Durfee don't talk much about the Army," Sandoe
said.

"Bill figures the army's changed, gone soft. Look how
the politicians are treating Fremont after all he did for
‘
em in this territory." Power waved his arm. "No matter.
What I was getting around to was this:
How
’
d
you like to
go back to Indian Rocks again?"

"Back to Durfee?" Sandoe asked. He shook his head, "No," he said, "I'd as lief old Bill and me met on some neutral ground. He's got too many guns to side him out there."

"That's the problem, Mike. Bill has got to tell those
boys the bad news about their money. I want you to help

him explain what happened to it, ho
w it's no fault of
Bill's."

"Why don't this Weston tell it himself?"

"No, I got other plans for that bird. Your first job for
me
is
to make sure that crew scatters. I'll give you what
cash I can spare and you and Bill can pay them off te
n
cents on the dollar."

"Buchanan included?"

"No," Power said with some warmth. "That one's got
the last dime he'll ever earn from me. In fact, if he's
still in Bella when you and Bill get back
,
your second job
will be to move him out."

"You keep a man busy."

"And pay him prime wages." He looked up as the door
swung open. "Come on in, Bernie," he said to Troy.
“
Shake the hand of Mike Sandoe, a new man I just hired
,”

Bernie Troy did briefly.

"Mr. Troy and I are partners here, Mike
,”
Power ex
plained.

''Oh
,”
the gunma
n
said, "'Then
I
guess I'm sorry about
the little trouble last night.
"

Troy looked past him to Frank Power,

"I came in to see you about some crazy talk I just heard.
Something about this new man of yours giving Moose
his papers
,”

"Don't worry about it, Bernie
.”
Power said. He turned
to Sandoe. "Mr. Troy needs Miller to keep the peace.
We'll let bygones be bygones."

"The hell we will," Sandoe said, and the words brought
a stain of color to Frank Power's strong jawline
f
set a
nerve to jumping spasmodically in his temple.

"We were talking about discipline," he said, obviously
under great pressure to let that voice thunder.

"We were talking business
,”
Sandoe answered brashly
e
"What's between me and Lardbelly is personal and
private."

"Miller won't be armed
,”
Bernie Troy said then, and Mike Sandoe laughed at him,

"I don't care if he's bare naked, mister. The next time
I
see that son of a bitch I'm goin' to kill him."

Troy swung on Power. "Frank, I'm holding you respon
sible."

"You're not holding me anything
,”
the big man
snapped irritably. "This time Miller used those big hands
on the wrong man."

"Then you back him?"

"I'm out of it, God damn it! Didn't you hear him say
it was personal?"

Bernie Troy turned on his heel and left the office with
out another glance at either of them. The door closed
behind him with a slam,
and Power, still furious at San
doe's flat insubordination, didn't trust himself to speak
immediately. Instead he walked to the window and stood
looking out at Signal Street for a long moment, recollect
ing how Soldier Sandoe would have fared under Brevet Major Power some five years ago. The bull whip and the
stockade—probably have him shot if it occurred on bivouac, He turned from the window to find Citizen
Sandoe smoking imperturbably.

"First things first, Mike," Power said with control "I'll
go down to the bank and draw the crew's payoff. Wait
here for me." He went out, and was making his way back
through the long barroom when the entrance was un
expectedly filled by the rough-hewn figure of Buchanan.

Power stopped short and his first thought was that the
man had broken jail. But there was nothing of the hunted about the casual way he came inside the place. He looked,
instead, just the opposite—and Power understood then
that if either of them was on the defensive, it was himself.
He half turned toward the office he had just left.

"A word with you, Power!" Buchanan called, and every
head in the place turned, astonished that anyone
addressed Frank Power in that tone of voice. Power
turn
ed back, and against his will his eyes dropped to those
outs
ized hands that had wreaked such havoc on Moose
M
i
ll
er last night.

He made himself look up, trade Buchanan's deceptively
t
r
a
nquil gaze with an unafraid expression of his own.

"If you've got something to say to me," Power said too
forci
bly, "say it in the office." Now he made the complete t
u
rn and retraced his route with an arrogant disdainful
stri
de. Buchanan shrugged and followed.

"After you," Power said, throwing the door open.

Mike Sandoe, his feet hooked over the desktop, raised
hi
s head in surprise.

“
Hey! Who busted you out?"

"They threw me a tag day
,”
Buchanan told him.

"Well, have a cigar, then
,”
the gunman said, passing
ewer the box.

"Don't mind if I do."

"Seems to be your day for taking charity," Frank Power
cut
in sharply, on certain ground with Sandoe present.

“
I pay my way," Buchanan told him, "And I will, once
somebody forks over thre
e hundred and eighty I got comi
ng."

"By 'somebody' you mean Boyd Weston," Power said.
“
But as it happens, Weston isn't good for the money."

“
No?"

“
No. He had it but he lost it."
“
Tough luck," Buchanan said, "For him
?
But not for you?"

"I'll make out all right on the deal. So will the rest of
the boys. We'll just take our wages in beef."

“
Think again, mister. Boyd Weston was paymaster for
that drive. He doesn't own the herd."

"You own it," Buchanan said, striking a match with a
flick of his thumbnail. "And I bet you're going to tell me
you sold it to a third party."

"Which happens to be the fact."

Buchanan blew out a slowly billowing cloud of blue
smoke, seemingly oblivious of everything but
the
aroma of
burned
tobacco
leaf. His
attention
came back
to Power
almost regretfully.

"And me and
Durfee's other jolly riders—all we get
out
of the past forty
days and nights are the
pleasant memories of the trail?"

"The beef is sold, Buchanan.
Sold intact
.
Until the
new
owner takes possession it's
a matter of principle with me
that it stays intact
.
”

"Or what?"

"Or what?" Power echoed, laying his
hand over
Mike
Sandoe's shoulder. "Tell him, gunfighter," he said.

The command caught Sandoe by surprise, handed him
a problem he hadn't anticipated. But
then
he felt the
pressure of Frank Power's hand and the moment of in
decision passed. Gone with it was the last capricious
tie
that he had fashioned between himself and Buchanan.

"There won't be any trouble about the beef
,”
he said
with drawling assurance, looking steadily at the big man.
"No trouble at all"

“
Got your answer?"
Frank Power asked, his voice
cut
ting knifelike through
the heavy silence,

Buchanan stared down at Sandoe, a craggy smile on his
face. "Thanks, anyhow, for the smoke, kid
,”
he said.
"You're a real sport."

"Stand you a drink, too, old buddy,"
Sandoe said,
get
ting to his feet. "For the long road,"

Buchanan's eyes twinkled with
some inner amusement.
"The long road to
Indian Rocks?" he asked, "You want
to drink on that?"

Sandoe shook
his head, "
I
guess not
.
" he said,

"Then I'll be seeing you. Take care of yourself."

"Always do, Buchanan
,”
Sandoe said, and the big
man
left them.

He left Sandoe and Frank Power but not Troy's—for
as he passed through into the gambling hall his attention
was diverted for a
n
instant to the Spanish-style balcony
that over
looked the room from the opposite wall. Heavy
dra
pes were pulled across the low railing, and Buchanan
w
as
c
ertain that he had seen the muzzle of a scatter gun
poked
between the drapes, then quickly withdrawn.

A bushwhacker couldn't ask for a better setup, he
thou
ght, keeping to his route without changing stride,
the
n
bellying-up to a place at the farthest end of the bar.
Frank
Power came on through the room a second time,
and
in the mirror Buchanan noted how the shotgun had
nervously
appeared and disappeared at his entrance. Power
went
on out into Signal Street, his manner urgent and
effi
cient.

Mike Sandoe remained in the little office, alone with

thou
ghts that were neither worldly nor weighty. A rest
lessnes
s came over him, and the dimensions of the room
gav
e him a feeling of restriction. He also decided that he
was
hungry, hungry as hell, but he knew that eating was
t
o be a discomfort after what Miller's fist had done
to
h
i
s insides. He opened the door and stepped into the
corridor
thinking that the answer to his problems
might
be
three good jolts of red-eye dispensed at the bar.

He had taken only two steps into the big room when
h
e halted catlike, warned by some sixth sense that all
was not
as it should be. For if there was a plodding dullness to Mike Sandoe's ordinary thinking, his reaction to
haza
rd was incalculably swift. Without even glancing above
h
im
to the balcony, he knew that there was his peril. He
resumed walking, his hand only inches away from the
lo
w-slung butt of the Colt,

"Hold it right there!"

Sandoe heard Moose Miller's ragged-sounding com
m
and and kept walking. If he could get abreast of the
d
rinkers at this end of the bar, if he could get in among
them . . .

^“
I said hold
it
!”

Sandoe stopped, turned bleakly toward the balcony.