the Key-Lock Man (1965) (17 page)

"What is it?"

"Cliff rose. It grows all over some of these mesas. The Hopi wash wounds with it, and it seems to work."

She did as he directed, and noticed that to the westward the great wall of Piute Mesa was bright with sunset colors. In the valley below the shadows were reaching out from No Man's Mesa.

"What will we do?" she asked him later.

"Keep the fire going, then pull back from it."

A lightning-struck tree some fifty yards away offered some cover and a good field of fire. "Over there. You let me sleep until trouble comes, or until two hours pass. Then wake me up, and I'll watch, but we've got to keep that fire going. Nobody can top that cliff without showing themselves in the light."

They waited a while, and she reached out for his hand, and held it tightly.

"Old Buck," he said suddenly, "he fell in with the wild bunch and trailed along behind. They were horses, and they were company, and he may have figured we had stayed close to them before, so there must be a reason.

"I was all in ... I couldn't have made it another foot.

You should have seen him when he found me ... like a playful pup. It was all I could do to get up on him."

"Will they try to come up here, Matt?"

"Kris . . . you watch. I..." His words trailed off into a mumble, and he was asleep.

The sun had gone. Far away across the desert land the sandstone ridges and cliffs still held the sun's fire, but here on the mesa the light was a dusty lemon. Under the trees it was shadowed and still. She went to the mules and loosened their packs, letting them fall; then she removed the saddles. The grateful animals rolled in the grass, shook themselves, and rolled again. Keeping a careful eye on the head of the trail, she unsaddled the horses and picketed them on the grass.

It was very quiet. She carried several armloads of fuel to the fire and placed it within easy reach.

Around the lightning-blasted tree there was a good bit of fuel-broken limbs, dried and seasoned, as well as a good-sized piece of the tree itself that had broken off and fallen to the ground.

The horse with the three white stockings showed no disposition to leave them. This was an old horse, and some nostalgic memory of campfires and the man smell kept it close to them. Running with the wild bunch was probably growing increasingly difficult.

She checked his rifle, reloading the fired cartridges, and checked her own. She got his pistol and reloaded the empty chambers. She was somewhat frightened of what might come, and yet it was not really fear. Injured he might be, but this was her man, and where he was there could be no real fear.

The sky became a deep, dark blue; the first stars came out. The nearby ridges were black, mysterious. The coolness of night had come, and it felt good. She got a ground sheet from the packs and ever so gently drew Matt onto it; then she got a blanket and covered him.

She was restless, and walked away from the fire to the dark edge of the cliff to listen. There was a fire down there.

Her eyes moved off toward the south, remembering the great, silent cave houses where they had stayed, and where she had so hopefully planted a garden....

They would come tonight, she was sure they would. And when they came, she would be ready.

NEILL RODE INTO FREEDOM with Short tied over a saddle.

Somebody shouted, and people came out into the street.

Sam, drying his hands on his apron, emerged from the saloon just behind Hardin and John Ware. Taplinger was there, too, and George Benson.

Neill drew up. "Yes, it's Short.

He's dead, and we've played hell. If we don't stop them, they'll murder that man
Keylock
, and his wife, too."

"Wife?"

"She's with him. In fact," he added grimly, "she was the one who killed Short.
Keylock
was talking to Chesney, and it looked as if they were going to settle it between them, and then McAlpin and Short cut loose and shot
Keylock
out of the saddle."

"They didn't kill him?"

"Not by a long shot! But if we don't get back in there and stop them, they will; and if they do, they will have to kill her."

Neill saw Taplinger then, and his fury mounted.

"Yes, and that damned marshal you hired is in there with two murdering thieves."

Taplinger's face flushed, and he started to protest, but Neill broke in. "You'd no right to hire that legal murderer and give him a right to kill a man and his wife." His tone was harsh, and his voice carried a new authority.

"Now, see here!" Taplinger began. "I-was Neill turned his back on him. "Hardin," he said quickly, "if you'll come with me, we'll go back in there and stop this. If they kill those two it will be a disgrace this community will never live down."

"Tell me just what has happened," Ware said.

"I've heard little about it."

Neill dismounted and Taplinger started forward, but Neill pointedly ignored him and went into the saloon, followed by Ware and Hardin. As briefly as possible he outlined the trouble from the beginning.

Finally he said, "By the time we get back it may be too late, but I could do nothing alone short of killing some of them myself."

Hardin studied Neill thoughtfully. After a moment he said, "You've changed, boy. This business has changed you."

"Maybe . . . and maybe that's why I spoke out against it. And while I tried to get Short back here alive, I thought more and more about it. We've got to get back in there and stop this."

"Do they still believe
Keylock
murdered Johnny Webb?" Hardin asked.

"No, and that's the worst of it. They know he didn't, but they are still trying to kill him. Partly because they are afraid of what will happen if they don't."

"What about this man Neerland?" Ware asked.

"That's a grudge affair. What Neerland may have in mind, I don't know or care, but he simply wanted a legal cloak to cover him while he committed murder. The man's far from a fool, and he's dangerous."

"What about Mrs.
Keylock
?"

"Skin told me at Tuba that she was a lady, every inch of her. We were for getting her out of there. At least Bill and I were for it-yes, and Kimmel, too, I think. I looked for her, I didn't find her."

"All right," Hardin said, "we'll ride back in there and put a stop to it." And Ware agreed.

"You're right, Neill. It must be stopped."

Nine men rode out of Freedom, nine men with just one idea, to reach the scene before their community could be branded for murder. They left in the cool of the evening and they rode fast, changing horses twice before they reached Tuba City.

Neill, hoping and expecting that the men of Freedom would be with him, had arranged for horses to be waiting for them at Tuba. Yet swiftly as they rode, he knew there was hardly one chance in a thousand that they would arrive in time.

But he was banking on the courage of the man
Keylock
, and of a woman whom he had never met.

TWO HOURS HAD passed, but she did not wake Matt. He was resting easily for the first time since he was wounded. He did not even wake when she gently changed the dressing on his chest, using more of the crushed cliff rose. He muttered in his sleep, but slept on.

Twice she added fuel to the fire near the cliff edge, approaching it with care, and each time she listened from the dark rim beyond the range of the firelight, but she heard no sound.

The night wore on, and her weariness grew. It was long past midnight when she at last knew she could wait no longer. If she fell asleep again, as she had when on watch below the cliff, it would be the end-they would be killed in their sleep. She dared not chance it. She went to Matt and touched his shoulder.

"Matt? Matt, wake up."

He stirred under her hand, then his eyes flared open. When he sat up, she went to the fire and filled a cup with coffee. A soft wind stirred the fire, bending the long flames.

He took the coffee, and when she looked down at him as he sat there on the ground she was shocked by the gauntness of his features. But when he had finished the coffee, he got up by himself.

The wind guttered the fire again, and off in the distance thunder rolled. Matt turned his head around sharply.

A great bank of black clouds had rolled up; and even as he looked, a streak of jagged lightning struck a distant ridge and made a vivid, momentary fringe of light along the crest.

He caught up the rifle. "We've got to get the horses in and keep them close," he said. A few spattering drops of rain fell. "This will put out our fire."

Limping to the buckskin, he led the animal close, and then on a sudden inspiration he picked up the saddle and threw it on the horse's back.

Swiftly he tightened the cinch and slipped on the bridle. Then he saddled Kris's horse. When she brought the pack animals in, he strapped on the pack saddles and loaded up.

He heaped more fuel on the fire, and then pulled himself into the saddle and they started north along the mesa. Moving over close to her he leaned nearer and said, "From down below I saw some rough, broken country about a mile north of here. We might find some shelter there." And he added, "There's less chance of getting struck by lightning on lower ground."

The few spatters of rain had turned into a quick downpour, but both of them had donned slickers, and they rode on in the rain, the mules on a lead rope.

In the light of the lightning flashes, they found a place where the surface rock broke off, and descended almost two hundred feet by an easy route. To the east they could see where the break was sharper, and turned that way to get under the lee of the escarpment.

Once there, they found another descent and went lower still to a place where the ledge of rock had been undercut by water and wind to make a deep shelter.

The rain ceased, and in the quiet that followed they secured the horses under the shelter, and the mules beside them. Then they stripped off the packs and saddles.

Kris was just shaking out a bed for them when the rain came again.

It came with a roar. The sky was weirdly lit by lightning, and the thunder crashed and rolled. Sure that they would never be found in such a storm, they drew together for warmth and lay staring into the wild night. And lying so, they slept.

CHESNEY, KIMMEL, AND McAlpin came up to the camp at the foot of No Man's Mesa in the bright sunlight of the morning after the rain. They had waited out the flash flood that filled the canyon with a rushing river, and when it had run its way on into the desert and the natural catch-basins below, they rode up on the hard-packed sand.

There was no pleasure in Oskar Neerland's eyes when they appeared, and even less in those of Muley when he saw Gay Cooley was riding with them.

"They got away?" Chesney asked, almost hoping they had.

"Up there." Neerland jerked a thumb toward the mesa's rim.

"You mean there's a way up?" It was Cooley who spoke. His eyes went to Muley's, then he looked around him very carefully. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"They found a way," Muley said. "Followed some broomtails, an' they went right up."

"You haven't been up there?"

"They had a fire going right on the rim until the rain put it out. It has not been lighted again, so they must have gone."

Kimmel interrupted. "I thought there was three of you."

"Bob Mitchell's dead. Matt
Keylock
shot him, then the horses ran over him. We dragged him over yonder."

They looked in that direction, but did not ride over. Bob Mitchell had been known to them as a hard character and a dangerous one. The country, they felt, was better off without him.

"All right," Chesney said, "let's go get them."

Neerland did not move. "You have given the job to me," he said. "I will do it."

"We're all here," Chesney said. "We might as well help."

"I shall need no help."

"There's a woman up there," Chesney said, "who had no part in the killing of Johnny Webb. We want to take her back to town."

"I will take care of the woman."

For the first time in many years Chesney was unsure of himself. Oskar Neerland was a dangerous man, but he did not fear him. The trouble was, he himself had been one of those who appointed this man the marshal. He himself had directed him to hunt down Matt
Keylock
.

"That woman must be protected," he objected now. "We will see that she gets back to Freedom and the stage line."

"I will take care of her, and I do not want your help. Go away."

"To hell with her!" McAlpin exclaimed. "She killed Short. She tried to kill me."

"We're riding along, Neerland," Chesney said. "We want to see that woman is safe."

"I am the law." Neerland spoke in a flat tone. "If you interfere, I shall arrest you."

"I don't think so," Kimmel said.

"You're fired, Neerland," Chesney said. "You ride back to Freedom."