Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (6 page)

"You ride on." The Cactus Kid shoved his hat back on his head and began to buil
d
a smoke. "I'm going back."

"Back?" Kirby cried. "Are you crazy? You want to go back there and get shot?"

"No, ma'am, I sure don't. On the other hand, those hombres took seven hundred dollar
s
of money off me. I want it."

"Why are you so interested in getting-!" Kirby was breathless. The moon was risin
g
and he could see her face in the light.

"Here, now!" Brock said mildly. "Let him alone. If he wants to go back, he want
s
to go back and that's his affair. Although," he added
,
"I do think it a foolish thing."

"Nevertheless," the Kid insisted stubbornly, "I am going back." He turned his horse.

"You two ride on. I've got business to attend to!"

Kirby stared at him, her anger fading. "Don't go back!" she pleaded. "They'll kil
l
you! They will! I know they will!"

Brock held up his hand. "You won't have to go back," he said gravely. "I can hea
r
'em coming."

"How far off?" The Kid strained his ears to listen.

"Down the canyon. It could be a mile or more."

"Hit the saddle, then," the Kid said quietly. "I'll wait for 'em. I've got a Col
t
and plenty of ammunition. I'll stand 'em off."

"We'll wait," Kirby said. "Maybe we can get hold of some guns once the fighting starts."

"Then get out of the way," the Kid agreed, ". . . back near that mine. I'm goin
g
to wait right here by the tinaja for them."

It was well after midnight, but how late he was not sure. The Kid waited, occasionall
y
drying his palms on his jeans. The riders were taking their time, evidently searchin
g
the rocks as they came along. Probably they were not sure which way the Brocks ha
d
gone with the Kid. When at last he heard them close by, there was a faint gray i
n
the east. The outlaws-and he decided there were at least four of them-drew up i
n
the blackness near the cliffs.

His horse concealed among the rocks, the Cactus Kid settled down for a wait. He coul
d
hear voices arguing, and then a rider started forward. When he was still some thirt
y
yards off, the Kid spoke. "Better stay where you are. I'm heeled for trouble."

"If you hadn't butted into this"-it was Branch speaking -"everything would be al
l
right. Suppose you mount up an' light a shuck? We want the Brocks, not you."

"Sorry. It'll cost you to get 'em. I got a gun now."

"Don't be a fool!" Branch said angrily. "You won't have a chance!"

The Cactus Kid settled himself for a wait. Without doubt most of the outlaws wer
e
awaiting daylight to hunt up their horses, and he had a hunch that Branch would wai
t
for day also. Well, that suited him.

An hour passed, and the gray grew stronger. Another hour, and although the sun wa
s
not up, it was light. Behind the Kid was the canyon mouth where Bully and Kirby Broc
k
had taken shelter; beside the Kid was the tinaja with its store of water. Befor
e
him the slope fell away to the bottom of a shallow canyon and somewhere across i
t
were Branch and the others.

Once, the Kid thought he heard a stone rattle, then a footstep. He got to his fee
t
and peered around but could see nothing-and then he saw Kirby, motioning violently.

"Hey!" she called. She held up a brown stick in her hands. "Blasting powder!"

Scrambling back over the rocks, he stopped beside her. "Uncle found it in the prospector'
s
shanty. There's almost half a box, and some caps and fuses."

The Cactus Kid grinned suddenly. "Bring 'em down! This'll be good!"

A half hour later Branch called out. He was not over thirty yards away, probabl
y
less. "You comin' out or are we comin' after you?"

"Come and get us," the Kid said hopefully. "Come right on up." As they hesitate
d
he lighted a short fuse. The giant powder was tied to a rock for better throwing
,
and as the fuse spattered, the Kid drew back his hand and threw, and Bully Brock
,
nearby, did the same.

He never saw the dynamite. The stick hit somewhere in front of him and blew up wit
h
a terrific concussion
,
scattering rocks and gravel. Brock's throw had been the stronger and it lit betwee
n
two head-sized rocks atop a boulder. It blasted with even greater force and scattere
d
rock in every direction.

Jewell came out of the rocks, running, and Farb with him. Both men had their hand
s
up.

"Come on, Branch!" Brock yelled. "The next one's right in your lap!"

Kit Branch came out of the rocks. He came walking toward them, his hands swinging
,
and the Cactus Kid stepped out in the open. Branch stared vindictively. "Nobody get
s
the best of me, boy. You're gonna get yours and I'm gonna be the one givin' it t
o
you."

The Kid's eyes never left those of the gunman. "Well, I'll be-!"

Branch's hand swept down for his gun. Triumph was on his face as the gun lifted an
d
then something struck him a wicked blow just below the breastbone. He staggered
,
seeing the smoking gun in the Kid's hand, then fell over on his face.

The Cactus Kid walked over to Jewell. "All I want from you is my money," he said.

"Dish it out."

Reluctantly, the two outlaws dug out the money and handed it back. When he counte
d
it, the sum came to two hundred dollars more than he had lost. "For my trouble,"
h
e said calmly, and pocketed it. "That's all I want with you fellows. You can bea
t
it."

"Oh, no, they can't!" Kirby Brock walked up to Jewell and Farb. "Push me around
,
will you?" She kicked Jewell right on the shins.

Farbeson bellowed with laughter, and coolly, she turned and kicked him in the sam
e
place. With both men howling with pain, Kirby turned and gathered up the reins o
f
he
r
horse. "Maybe," she said, glaring at the Cactus Kid, "that wasn't ladylike, but i
t
sure was satisfying!"

The Cactus Kid gathered up their weapons. Farbeson had been wearing the Kid's ow
n
guns. Gravely, he handed guns to both Brock and Kirby.

Mounting up, he studied Kirby. "You know, ma'am," he said, "if you get a husban
d
who'll keep a tight rein on you, you'd make him a mighty good wife, but if you eve
r
get the bit in your teeth, heaven help him!"

He turned his horse and headed off up the trail.

*

The riders met where the trails formed a Y with the main road. The man from the north was fat, with a narrow-brimmed hat an
d
round cheeks. He raised a hand in greeting. "Mind if I ride along with you? Get
s
mighty lonesome, ridin' alone. I ain't seen even a jackrabbit last ten miles, an'
a
man can say just so much to a horse.

"Figured to make Ironwood Station before sundown. They feed passengers, an' I'm might
y
tired of my own cookin'." The fat man bit off a chunk of chewing tobacco and offere
d
the plug to the other man, who shook his head. "Long empty stretch in here," th
e
fat man continued. "Never see nobody 'ceptin' Utes, whom nobody wants to see." Th
e
fat man glanced at his companion. "Ain't much for talkin', are you?"

"Not much."

"Well, I'm ready for Dan Burnett's cookin'. That man can sure shake up a nice mes
s
o' vittles. Makes a man's mouth water."

"Somebody north of us," the other rider said. "Somebody who doesn't want to follo
w
a trail."

The fat man glanced at him. "You hear something?"

"I smell dust."

"Could be Utes. This here is Ute country." The fat man was worried. "The Utes hav
e
been killin' a lot of folks about here."

"There's three ... maybe four of them."

"Now, how would you know that?"

"Dust from one horse wouldn't reach this far, but the dust from three or four would."

"My name is Jones," the fat man said. "What did you say your name was?"

"Talon ... Shawn Talon."

"Odd name. Don't reckon I ever heard that one before."

"You would in County Wicklow. My father was Irish, with an after-coating of Texas."

They rode in silence until they dipped into a hollow, and Talon drew up briefly.

"Three riders," Talon said, "on mighty fine horses. See the stride? A long strid
e
and good action, although they've been riding a long time."

"You read a lot from a few tracks."

"Well, they've had to be riding a long time," Talon said, smiling. "This isn't campin
g
country, and where would a man come from to get here?"

Sun glinted on the rifle barrel a split instant before the bullet whipped past hi
s
ear, but the brief warning was enough. Talon slapped the spurs to his horse and wa
s
off with a bound, the report of a rifle cutting a slash across the hot still afternoon.

Ahead of him there was a burst of firing, and as the two men, riding neck and neck
,
came over the rise, they saw three others in a hollow among the rocks defending themselve
s
against an attack by Utes. Glancing back, Talo
n
saw several Indians closing in from behind them. Jumping their horses into the circl
e
of rocks, Talon rolled on his side and began feeding shells into the Winchester.

Briefly, he glanced at the other men.

The three strangers were tough, competent-looking men. One, a slim, dark man, ha
d
his holster tied down. He was unshaven and he glanced at Talon and grinned. "Yo
u
showed up on time, mister."

It was very hot. From time to time somebody thought they saw a target and fired
,
and from time to time the Utes fired back . . . but they were working closer. "Gettin
g
set for a rush," Talon said aloud.

"Let 'em come," the man with the tied-down gun said. "The quicker they try it, th
e
quicker this will be over."

Neither of his companions had said anything. One was a short, dark man, the othe
r
a burly fellow, huge and bearded. All three looked dirty, and showed evidence o
f
long days in the saddle. Talon noticed that his talkative friend was suddenly ver
y
silent.

The rush came suddenly. Talon got in a quick shot with his rifle, and then the ma
n
with the tied-down holster was on his feet, his six-gun rolling a cannonade of soun
d
into the hot afternoon. He shot fast and accurately. With his own eyes Talon sa
w
three Indians drop under the gunman's fire before the attack broke. With his rifl
e
Talon nailed another, and saw the gunman bring down the last Indian with a fifty-yar
d
pistol shot.

"That was some shooting," Talon commented.

The man glanced at him briefly. "It's my business," he said.

In the distance, beyond the trail, dust arose. "Thought so," the gunman said. "They'r
e
pullin' out."

Talon waited a moment, watching the trail, and then he turned and walked toward hi
s
horse, standing with th
e
other horses in the low ground behind the rocks. "Let's ride, Jones."

They mounted up and the three men watched them in silence. The gunman stared at Talo
n
as he swung his horse to ride out. "Something about you/' he said. "I've seen yo
u
before, somewhere."