Matagorda (1967) (21 page)

Tap Duvarney got up. "Will you excuse me, Jessica?" Deliberately he raised his voice so that the three men striding to the door could hear him. "This won't take long."

Under his breath he added, "Get back in the office, out of range."

He loosened his gun in its holster. He had not really thought much about a fast draw since the time he cleaned up that tough town out west, when he was sent by the army to do it, as the marshal's deputy.

He walked to the door, keeping to one side. Every Munson was out there, waiting.

He had an idea Ev would hold the others off so he could make the kill himself. At the same time he knew that if he killed Every Munson they would shoot him down where he stood . . . unless he moved very quickly indeed.

Tap reached over with his left hand and turned the knob, releasing the bolt, but leaving the door almost closed. He took a short step forward, put his left hand on the door, slamming it open suddenly.

He knew what would happen. At the sudden slamming of the door Ev Munson's hair-trigger nerves would react and he would draw, and that was just what happened.

The startling slam of the opening door triggered Ev Munson's gun hand and it swept down for the six-shooter. Tap took one long step through the door and drew at the same instant. His gun muzzle came up, he saw the reckless, black-clad young man with the wolfish smile, and he fired.

The wolfish smile vanished in a sudden blotching of blood, and Tap shot again, holding the gun lower, and saw Ev Munson stagger one hesitating step forward and go on his face.

At the same instant, he switched his gun and shot at Lin Stocker, who was a few yards to the right. He shot too fast, and the bullet hit Stocker in the knee and he pitched over, losing his grip on his gun.

Tap quickly stepped back inside, jerking the door to, and wheeling, he raced up the steps. In his mind he had rehearsed every move that was to follow, and he performed them smoothly now. As he reached the top of the steps he took three long strides down the hall, grasping a chair as he left the landing, and putting it down under the trap door that led to the roof.

He stepped up on the chair, jumped, and grabbed the edge of the opening. Holding himself with one hand, he pushed back the trap, then hoisted himself through.

He took a quick step, and was under the trap to the roof itself. He released the latch, pushed open the door, and after a quick look pulled himself through to the slanting roof, where he was hidden from the street by the false front of the building.

He ran along the roof, jumped to the flat roof of the next building, and went quickly to the front of it.

The man at the wagon whom he had seen earlier was standing there holding a pistol; a few feet away, Shabbit held a shotgun. Both were waiting for him to show himself.

He took a careful sight along the barrel of the Smith & Wesson and shot the man by the wagon through the shoulder. He dropped the rifle and whipped sharply around.

Running to the rear of the building, Tap leaped to the roof below, then dropped into the space between the buildings. There was a door there, and he ducked through it just as a bullet smashed into the door jamb, inches from his head, stinging his face with splinters.

Instead of going out the front door, he ran across, seeing a window open, and leaped through it into the alley beyond.

At that moment there was a sudden burst of firing in the street, and he paused, gasping for breath, and puzzled. Suddenly he saw Shabbit running, and he ducked into the same narrow alley in which Duvarney stood. There was blood on Shabbit's shoulder and his face was white and frightened. He started to run, then brought up short.

His shotgun started to lift, and Tap Duvarney shot him through the second button of his shirt, shot twice.

Surprised at the shooting from the street, he started back that way, picking up the shotgun as he stepped around Shabbit. At the opening into the square, he paused, looking out.

The shooting ceased.

On the far side of the square a tall man was sitting quietly in his saddle; nearer by he saw another. Other riders were coming along both sides of the square, their guns ready. Doc Belden . . . Lawton Bean . . . Welt Spicer . . . they were all there.

He stepped out, and half a dozen guns swung to cover him until they saw who he was.

"You know somethin', Major?" Lawton Bean said, grinning at him. "Those boys weren't much on the fight. I was some surprised. Figured they'd hold up better. Why, this here shindig hardly got started until they all taken out runnin' ... all that was able."

Doc rode up. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Tom Kittery came walking across the square. "You tryin' to hog all the fun? I almost missed out on the endin' of my own feud!"

Tappan Duvarney looked around carefully. "All right, boys," he said. "We've got some cattle waiting. Shall we get back to them?"

In his room on the second floor of the hotel Jackson Huddy held his rifle easily in his hands and looked down into the square. He could see Duvarney's shoulder .

. . just a little more now, and . . .

"Mr. Huddy?"

He turned sharply. Jessica Trescott was standing within ten feet of him and she was holding a very steady Colt House Pistol aimed at his stomach. "Mr. Huddy, I would take it kindly if you would just put that rifle down, then unbuckle your gun belt, very carefully."

"I never shot a woman," Huddy said. "I never would."

"The reverse is not true, Mr. Huddy. This woman has never shot a man, but believe me, she certainly would. Also, I am somewhat nervous, and if I start shooting it is likely I will empty this gun into you.

"You see, Mr. Huddy, I came west to marry Mr. Duvarney. I came out here because I love him and I want to bear children for him and to live out my life with him, so if you think I am going to let a man like you come between us with a bullet, you are wrong. I will kill you, Mr. Huddy, if you do not come away from that window, get on your horse, and ride right out of our lives.

"Mady Coppinger told me you came from Alabama, Mr. Huddy. The only city in Alabama that I know is Mobile. It is very lovely at this time of year. Would you go now .

. . please?"

He looked at her, and then he looked at the gun. The hand that moved was only to lift his hat. "Your pleasure, ma'am," he said, and walked from the room and down the back hall.

She followed and stood by the door, watching him ride away, sitting very straight in the saddle.

Tom Kittery stood with Tappan when she reached the street. "Mady is here," she said.

"I saw her," Tom said. "I ... I borrowed money and loaned it to her. She's gone off to N'Orleans. I reckon I'll find somebody else, somewhere on up the trail."

"You will, Tom. I'm sure of it." Jessica turned to look up at Tap. "Come on, Tappan.

Those cattle are waiting."

"And we'd better find a sky pilot," Tap commented. "We might as well make it legal while we're at it."

"Yes, that, too," she said.

"You're forgettin' somethin', Major," Spicer said. "What about Jackson Huddy?"

"Oh, don't worry about him," Jessica said. "We had a talk and he decided to go back to Alabama. If you doubt it, look in the room up over the door. You'll find his rifle and pistol there."

Tappan Duvarney looked at her quizzically. "You know, Jessica, that's a story I would
really like to hear.
"

"
I'll
tell you . . . sometime." She reached in her purse and took out the Colt. "Tappan, would you carr
y
this for me? It is getting very heavy."