Louis L'Amour (20 page)

“A couple of others might come shagging down the pike and ride over to the corral just before the stage comes in. They’d have Ridge out of action, they’d have Mrs. Breydon and Matty Maginnis locked up, and they could open fire on the stage from three directions.”

“Open fire?” Collier exclaimed. “This is to be a holdup. Why should they open fire?”

“Mr. Boone is right,” Mary said. “We know who some of these men are. They are former guerrillas, and they kill the weak and helpless as well as others. They will want no witnesses left alive to testify against them or to identify them.”

“Mrs. Breydon,” Collier said, “I am going to insist that you be away from here. You could go to my ranch. You’d be safe there—”

“No, Mr. Collier. A year ago, I might have done just that, but a lot has happened this past year, both before I came here and since. I will be here, where I should be.”

Mark Stacy interrupted. “Mrs. Breydon? You can be here if you wish, although the stage company certainly does not expect it of you, but if you are to be here, promise me that you’ll all get into Matty’s room with the door locked the minute that stage rolls into the yard.

“You see,” he said, “that stage will be loaded with deputies, heavily armed, waiting for trouble. That stage is strongly built, and my men will all have shotguns.”

“They’ll be watching the stage when the passengers get aboard in Laporte,” Boone said.

Collier smiled. “Of course. But the passengers they encounter will be a different group of men. Don’t worry, Boone. They’ll be surprised. We’ll get the lot of them.”

Tuesday passed quietly, and Wednesday, yet Mary could feel the tension building within her. Had she been foolish? How could she dare risk the lives of Peg and Wat? Or of Matty? Or even to allow the children to see such a thing or be close to it. No matter what took place, men would be killed or injured, and with all that shooting going on, there was no telling who might be killed.

“Matty,” she said when they were alone, “I am frightened.”

“I know, mum. I feel just the same. ’Tis a power of wickedness there is in the world, and too bad that the likes of you an’ me must suffer for it. You could go, mum. I’d stay.

“I’m not suggestin’ you’re afraid, but it’s just that my life has been rougher than yours. I’m used to it now. I’d not want you or Peg to see what will happen.”

“No, Matty. This is where I belong. If a man was station agent here, wouldn’t he be expected to stay?”

On Thursday, the people on the stage were a friendly lot, laughing and gay. They were part of a traveling show that was to perform in Denver.

“You’ve the best food on the line, miss,” the show’s manager said. “I wish we could stay over.”

“We’ve been told there will be sleeping quarters here next year,” she said.

“Good! I’ll vote for it if you’re still here to do the cooking.” He glanced at Matty. “Or is it you?”

“ ’Tis the both of us,” Matty said. “If we should come into Denver, could we see the show?”

“I’ll seat you myself!” he said gallantly.

Temple Boone stopped by late on Friday. He took a cup and filled it, then said, “We can’t persuade you?”

“No,” she said.

Wat had been dunking a doughnut. He looked up and started to speak, but Matty interrupted.

“You said that Jordy Neff would not be one of them. How could you know such a thing?”

Boone sipped his coffee. “Jordy ain’t the brightest one around, but he’s cunning, like an animal. He’s not going to get into any situation somebody else sets up. He’ll be in Laporte in plain sight. You mark my words. He’s like a coyote, wary of traps.”

“It ain’t gonna work nohow,” Wat said. “That Mr. Collier, he doesn’t know that bunch.”

Mary was suddenly all attention, and so was Boone. There was something in the way he spoke—

“Why do you say that, Wat?” she asked.

“Why, those fellers! They been doin’ this for years! D’you suppose they ain’t seen Collier talkin’ to Stacy? An’ to those others? Sure, they know something’s gone haywire. They got men in that lot that can smell trouble as far as Jordy Neff.

“Don’t you suppose they’ve got it all figured out? And
six
men? That ain’t the way Denver Cross works, nor his boss, either. There’ll be twenty men, maybe more.”

“Twenty? But Mr. Collier said there would be but six—”

“Where d’you suppose he heard that? Who d’you suppose tipped them off in the first place?”

“Wat? What do you know about this?” Mary asked.

“When you all were talkin’ the other night, I listened,” he said. “I know I wasn’t s’posed to, but I done it.

“When Mr. Collier rode up here with Mark Stacy, I knowed somethin’ was in the wind. I just set there wonderin’ how growed-up men could be so foolish. They got a tip. I can just bet who supplied that tip! I also could make a good bet where they got the idea he’d only six men. I know there’s at least twenty, maybe more.”

“How could you know that?” Mary asked.

“You all kep’ askin’ where I come from. I lived over yonder near Bonnar Springs. Them outlaws was usin’ my pa’s ranch for a hideout. I
seen
all those men layin’ about up there, gamblin’, killin’ time, waitin’ until somebody decides it’s a proper time to use them.

“Some of them moved in a good while back. Then a lot come in a bunch just about the time that Flandrau killed your man.

“Those fellers know what they are doin’. They been through all this many a time. I’ve heard ’em talk. Just about everything’s been tried on ’em before this, so they know what to expect.

“They are
bloody
, ma’am. They don’t care how many they kill. Look what happened back to Lawrenceville.

“I like ol’ Wilbur, an’ he’ll be a settin’ up there in plain sight, one of the first to get shot. They’ll kill ’em all, and your Mr. Collier along with it.”

“Wat, how can you be sure?”

He glanced around at her. “Ma’am, I heard ’em talk. They paid me no mind. I was just a no-account youngster hangin’ around. It wasn’t until after I left there that some of them began to worry for fear I heard too much.”

“What will they do, Wat?”

“I been studyin’ about that, ma’am, but I surely don’t know. Only I know they’ll do what is least expected. Like killin’ Mr. Collier. He doesn’t expect that, an’ neither do you, but I’ll bet they been studyin’ how they can do that an’ let it be accidental-like. Sort of an innocent bystander.”

“Why should they want to kill him?”

“If Flandrau still calculates on running for office,” Boone said, “Collier would oppose him, and Collier has a lot of power.”

“But what will they do? If Wat is right—”

“We’ve got to believe he is. Look, the boy hung around up there for at least a year, maybe longer, just listening to them talk, plan, and connive. Or listening to them talk about what they’d done or how they would do it. He knows a lot more about what they think than either one of us.”

Yet when she turned down the lamp and blew it out, she was no closer to a solution.

She stood for a moment looking out on the gray area where the stage would stop. What would they do? What could they do?

Lying on her back in bed, with Peg sleeping on the cot nearby, she stared up into the darkness. What would they do? What could they do?

She tried to remember the long talks her father had with various army officers who stopped at the Oaks, when they had talked about surprises, about tactics, about the battles of the Revolution. Couldn’t there be a clue in some of that?

What were the dangers they must face? If the stage was to be robbed here and the men killed, what was there the outlaws must fear?

Surprise would be in their favor, yet if Wat was right and they had deliberately allowed Stacy or Collier to be tipped off on the robbery, the surprise was lost. So why the tip-off?

To mislead Stacy and Collier. Mislead them how? If they were warned of the attack—?

She sat up suddenly.
To mislead them as to where the attack was to take place!

But where, then? If not here, where?

Along the trail? But if Wat was right and they planned on killing Preston Collier, how could they do that? He would not be on the trail, and he would not be on the stage. The chances were that he would be at the ranch.

Of course!

It was almost daylight. Rising quickly, careful not to awaken Peg, she began to dress. As she dressed, her thoughts returned to their immediate problem.

What were the risks the outlaws would take? What must they guard against if their plan was to succeed?

An attack on Collier’s ranch would be a complete surprise unless she could warn them in time. But they would be depending on surprise, and the attack would be totally unexpected.

Certainly, they would see the men they wanted board the stage. They had arranged to have Collier and Stacy warned against an attack. Of course, the attack would not be on the trail. That would not account for Collier, and there would be too much chance in that wide open country of being seen.

The stage then would stop at Collier’s. The travelers would dismount to be entertained, and some deputies or something of the kind would board the stage and pull out. The attack would come then, the attack and the robbery, not only of the stage passengers but of Collier’s ranch home.

And then they would come here. As no attack had developed, the deputies would be off guard.

What risk remained that the outlaws must guard against? The answer was all too simple.

Ridge Fenton and Temple Boone!

Chapter 23

W
HEN SHE WALKED into the station, she began at once to prepare breakfast. As she worked, she was thinking, realizing what she must do and that so little time remained.

Stepping to the door, she saw Ridge Fenton approaching the station.

“Mr. Fenton? Will you do me a favor? Saddle Nimrod, the horse I recovered from Jordy Neff. Saddle him and bring him to the door.”

He merely glanced at her, then turned and walked back to the barn. By the time she had the coffee ready, Fenton was back, and Temple Boone was with him.

“Mr. Boone? I have been thinking about things, and I believe there will be an attempt to kill you and probably Mr. Fenton before the stage comes in.”

Boone nodded. “I been thinkin’ the same thing. What’s the horse for?”

“I’m riding over to Collier’s. I had time to think last night, and I believe they will hit there first. I believe, as Wat does, that they tipped Mark Stacy and Preston Collier purposely, guessing what his reaction would be.”

“They couldn’t count on what he’d do, ma’am.”

“Yes, they could. They would decide he would either do what he has done or try to surround the stage with guards. I am sure they have planned for that, too.”

“He’s got soldiers, ma’am. They came through here after midnight, headed for the Collier place. I talked with ’em. Their sergeant asked to be remembered to you, ma’am. His name was Barry Owen.”

“Good! He knows some of these men by sight. And he knows Flandrau.”

“He’s got seven men with him. Veterans, he said, mostly from the Indian wars. They sized up like a tough bunch.”

She took off her apron.

“Please, ma’am? Better let me go.”

“You? I need you here. You and Mr. Fenton. Without you, there’d be nobody.”

“Wat could ride over there.”

“Yes, he could, but I am not sure they would believe him, and they must! They must believe!”

“Wait a minute, ma’am. You can’t go now. Here comes Jordy Neff!” Boone studied the hillside, the area around the blacksmith shop, the corrals.

“Ridge, I’m going out to meet him. He wants me himself, but I’m betting there’s somebody else hid out around. I’ll trust you to take care of him.”

“I can’t see through brush! What d’you think I am?”

“A damned good man, and a canny one. If there’s anybody out there, he’s yours.”

Jordy Neff was tying his horse to the corral; then he started toward the station. Temple Boone did not wait but stepped out quickly. “Jordy! You lookin’ for me?”

Mary Breydon had heard of gunfights, but she had never actually seen one, and she scarcely saw this.

Neff was startled. He had expected to get closer, had expected to surprise Boone, had planned the words he was going to say. It was a story he planned to tell, and he wanted it to sound right. He wanted it to be dramatic. He was going to call Boone and—

He had demanded this job, insisted on it. He wanted to kill Boone and wanted the name of having killed him. He was thinking of that as he started toward the station, thinking of that when he should have been concentrating on Boone.

He started to reply, started reaching for those fancy words when he should have been reaching for his gun.

Automatically, his hand did drop; he gripped the butt, and then something slammed him in the chest. The blow staggered him. His gun came up hip high, arm extended, hammer back and sliding off his thumb.

The second bullet caught him on the inside of his elbow, glancing off into his side. His own bullet, deflected, went into the dust.

Neff did a border switch, catching the gun deftly with his left hand as another gun boomed in the background. His mind worked with complete clarity now. He knew he had been hit twice, and the last one had broken his elbow. As he caught the gun in his left hand, he fired, saw Boone twitch, and eared back the hammer.

Two bullets, so closely fired they sounded with one report, hit Neff in the chest, and he fell, dropping his gun.

He rolled over, trying to rise, groping for a gun that lay just out of reach. His arm gave way under him, and he rolled over on his back, staring up at the sky.

He’d better not lie here. It was getting dark, and it was going to rain. What was he doing? Lying out in the dirt like this? A big drop hit him in the face; then several others fell into his eyes, but they were wide open, staring up at the sky, and they did not blink.

Mary Breydon clutched the windowsill where she stood, staring, her heart pounding. Yet—it was over, all over. How long had it been? A minute? Two minutes?

Temple Boone had done this. He had killed this man, yet the man had come to kill him. She must remember that. And the man who lay dead out there had been one of those who destroyed her home in Virginia. He had stolen her horse, and a man allied to him had killed her husband.