Trigger Fast (10 page)

For a moment the woman struggled, until Doc caught her by the arms from behind and held her. Then she seemed to collapse into herself. The shotgun, thrown to one side by Dusty when he found need to prevent her scratching his eyes out, lay on the ground but she did not look at it. Instead she lifted dull, lifeless eyes to his face and spoke in a strangled voice.

‘All right. Do what you like with me, but leave my husband alone.’

Dusty and Doc released her, but Dusty took up the shotgun and removed its percussion cap to make sure the weapon could not be turned against him. Then he stood with his back to the two, allowing the tension to ooze from him. In his time as a lawman Dusty had found cause to use a shotgun on a man, it was not a pretty sight. A man did not just shake off, and laugh at it as being nothing, almost winding up the same way.

Knowing how Dusty must feel, Doc gently turned the woman to face him. ‘Now easy there, ma’am,’ he said. ‘We’re not from the Double K.’

‘Freda Lasalle sent us over,’ Dusty went on, his voice sounding just a little shaky still, and not turning around.

At that moment Doc threw a look at the partly open door of the house. What he saw brought an angry growl from his throat and sent him running for the house. Dusty turned and followed, seeing what Doc saw and forgetting his personal feelings in the urgency of the matter. The woman turned, watching them, looking as if all her will had been drained out of her. Then she heard hooves and turned to see Rusty riding back, leading the Lasalle’s horse. He swung down from the saddle, left his horse standing with its reins dangling and the runaway fastened to the saddle-horn. Coming towards the woman he threw a glance at the stiff body of the bluetick hound.

‘Nobody but a stinking Yankee’d shoot a good dawg like that’n,’ he said in a tone that boded ill for the man who shot the dog if Rusty ever laid hands on him. Where’d I find a spade, ma’am? I’ll tend to burying him.’

He got no reply, for the woman turned on her heels and fled to the house, Rusty did not follow, but headed for the damaged barn to see if he could find a shovel.

Dusty and Doc were already in the house. The building, made on the same lines as Lasalle’s home, had once been just as neat, tidy and pleasant. Now the front room looked as if a whirlwind had passed through it. The table had been thrown over, chairs broken, the sofa’s covers slashed open to expose springs and stuffing. The cupboards were shattered and broken, crockery lying in pieces on the floor. Just inside the door, face down, head resting on a pillow lay the woman’s husband, a tall, powerful looking man of middle-age. His back carried marks left by the lash of a blacksnake whip.

‘Don’t touch him!’ gasped the woman, entering the room just as Doc went to his knees by the man.

‘Get me some hot water, ma’am,’ Doe answered gently. ‘Happen they’ve left you anything to heat it in. And I’ll want some clean white cloth. I’ve got to get that shirt off and tend to his back.’

At last the woman seemed to realize that her visitors meant her no harm. She made an effort, then led Dusty to the kitchen. It appeared the Double K restricted their efforts to the out-buildings and the front room for the neat kitchen remained intact and she had already been heating water when they rode up.

What happened, ma’am?’ Dusty asked, leading the woman from the room as soon as she gave Doc the water and cloth. Doc was never too amiable when handling a medical or surgical chore and it paid to steer well clear of him at such times.

‘Some of the Double K men came to see us early on. They told us to sell out and leave. Said they would be back after they saw the Joneses. Later on they came back. Ralph told them he didn’t aim to quit and they jumped him. Sam tried to help, but one of them shot him down. They lashed Ralph to the corral and whipped him, while one of them held me, made me watch. Then they wrecked everything they could and rode away. They said they’d be back tomorrow. I thought you — I thought— Oh lord! I nearly k-killed you!’

‘You were scared, ma’am,’ Dusty answered. ‘You couldn’t know.’

The sound of digging brought her attention from Dusty. She looked to where Rusty Willis, who at normal times wouldn’t have thought of touching the blister end of a spade, dug a grave for the dog.

Then she turned and started to cry, the sobs ripping from her, tears pouring down her cheeks in a steady flow. The anguish she must have held bottled up inside while she tried to do something for her husband and about the wreck of her home, boiled out of her. She knew herself to be safe and in good hands. Now she could be a woman and cry out her misery.

Dusty let her get on with it, knowing she would be better once the crying ended. He waited by her side and at last she dried her eyes, turning to him once more and showing she had full control of herself,

‘I should help your friend. I was a nurse for a time in the War. After the men rode away I managed to get Ralph inside the house. I had laudanum in the medicine chest, they hadn’t touched it. I gave Ralph some to ease the pain. I didn’t know what to do for the best. Can your friend do anything for my husband?’

‘Reckon he can, ma’am? There was a time when a trail hand for the Wedge took sick, like to die. Ole Doc there, he went to work and operated with a bowie knife and a bottle of whisky. He saved that hand’s life. Yea, I reckon he can handle your husband’s hurts all right.’

At that moment they heard the sound of hooves. Rusty dropped the spade and fetched out his Dance. Dusty turned, hands ready to bring out the matched Colts. He knew only one horse approached but prepared to tell the woman to head for the house. It didn’t seem likely that Double K would send one man to visit the ranch, but one of the hired guns might have the idea that a woman left alone and in a state of terror would be easy meat.

‘Don’t shoot!’ Joyce Gibbs gasped, seeing and recognizing the rider. ‘It’s Yance. He works for Pop Jones.’

Riding at a fast trot the grizzled cowhand came towards the others. He halted his horse and threw a glance at Dusty and Rusty, then relaxed. Neither were the kind Double K hired.

‘See they been here, too,’ he said in an angry tone. ‘They treat you folks bad, Mrs. Gibbs?’

‘Ralph’s hurt,’ she replied. ‘These gents came by and lent a hand. Have they been to your place?’

‘Came in on their way through here. Told Pop to sell out and go. He allows to do it. Him and Maw’s getting too old for fussing with that bunch. I’d’ve started shooting, but Maw said no.’

‘When do they have to leave by, friend?’ Dusty asked, stepping by Joyce.

‘Double K allow to come in tomorrow and make sure we’re ready to up stakes and pull out.’

Studying Dusty, the cowhand did not see a small, insignificant man, he saw a master of their trade, a tophand more than normally competent with the matched brace of guns he wore. Yance did not know from where Dusty and Rusty came, but he knew they looked like the kind of men who could handle the Double K bunch. He hoped they would stay on and help the Gibbs family who were real nice folks and deserved better than to be driven out from their homes. Yance was more than willing to listen to any words of wisdom the small Texan might hand out.

‘You head back to your spread,’ Dusty told him. ‘I’ll try and get a couple or so hands over to you in the morning. If they haven’t made it by ten o’clock tell your boss to upstakes and head for Lasalle’s. Don’t stand and fight.’

‘You at Lasalle’s?’ Yance asked.

‘Sure.’

‘I’ll tell Pop. Only I sure hope that you-all can get the men to us. I’d like to tie into Double K with some good men at my back.’

He wasted no more time in talk. Turning his horse he headed for his home spread, but he rode in a more jaunty manner. Joyce saw this and wondered who the small man might be.

‘Who are you?’ she asked, then her face flushed red for such a question was never asked in polite western society.

For once Dusty took no offence at the words. He introduced himself and Rusty telling her who Doc was. Then he kept her talking while Rusty finished the grave-digging and buried the dog.

‘They broke a tea set my mother gave me for my wedding!’ she said suddenly, recalling something. Tears glistened in her eyes as she said the words and she clenched her fists, trying to avoid breaking down once more for the reaction still hung over her.

‘One thing I promise, ma’am,’ Dusty replied. ‘The man responsible for this lot here’s going to pay for it.’

CHAPTER TEN

BEFORE Joyce Gibbs could sink into despondency again she saw Doc come out of the cabin and started towards him with Dusty at her side.

‘I’ve fixed his back, ma’am,’ Doe drawled. ‘Cleaned the wounds and got them covered. It’s bad enough. He’ll likely carry the scars until he dies and it’ll hurt like hell for a time. But there’s no injury to his spine as far as I can tell.’

‘We can’t move him, then?’ Dusty asked.

‘From where he lies to the bed is all,’ Doc replied. ‘Happen you mean can we take him out of here.’

‘That’s what I meant. Rusty, lend a hand to tote him to his bed. Then get your hoss and head back to the herd. Ask Stone if he can send a few of the crew to lend a hand up this ways. Tell him what’s happened and that I’ll likely come down and see him in the morning, but to get the boys here if he can spare them.’

‘Yo!’ replied Rusty, giving the cavalry affirmative answer.

‘Lasalle’s place is over that way. Happen you see it, call on in and tell Mark I won’t see him until morning.’

Joyce watched the men heading into her house. It took some getting used to, the way the two men jumped to obey the small Texan, a man she would have passed in the street without a second glance. Of course she had heard of Dusty Fog, but never would she have pictured him as this small, insignificant cowhand.

Following the two men into the house she watched the gentle way they carried her husband into the bedroom and laid him on the bed, face down. She also blushed at some of the sotto voce comments Doc heaped on his friends if they did not handle Ralph in the manner he felt correct. Already the laudanum had started to wear off and Ralph groaned in pain.

‘Just stay by him, ma’am,’ Doe said. ‘Until he’s sane enough to know better, I mean with the pain and all, and strong enough to get out of it, we’ll have to make sure he keeps his face from burying into the pillow. I’d stay on, but I’ll see what Dusty wants first.’

He left Joyce with her husband and headed out to find Dusty watching Rusty ride off.

‘What now?’ Doc asked.

‘We’d best put the hosses in the barn first, then get set for a long wait and maybe a fight.’

They took their mounts to the stable and found that the damage had been done only to the outer walls. So they removed their double girthed saddles and left the horses in empty stalls, then headed for the house, taking the saddles with them.

Dusty spent the rest of the afternoon helping Joyce do what she could about the damage to the house. They set the table up and found that two chairs remained unbroken, but the rest were smashed beyond repair. Dusty swore again that he would make the men behind the raid pay for what they did and he meant it in more ways than one.

‘Your husband’s awake, ma’am,’ Doc said, just before dark as he entered the room. ‘Come on in and see him.’

Joyce followed the slim Texan into the bedroom and found her husband, his face lined with pain still, looking at her although he still lay on his face.

‘I’d like to thank you gents for helping us,’ Ralph Gibbs said, looking at Dusty who followed his wife into the room.

‘There’s no call for that,’ Dusty replied. ‘I only wish that I got here in time to stop them doing what they did.’

‘You fed our guests, honey?’ Ralph asked.

‘I did the best I could,’ she answered. ‘Used some of the chickens the men killed, made up enough for us all. I’ll fetch you some broth in.’

‘You fixing on sticking here?’ Dusty asked. ‘If you are, I’ll have some men on hand to help fight off that Double K bunch when they come.’

‘I’m staying!’ stated Gibbs firmly. ‘Although how I’ll manage for food I don’t know. That bunch told me the only way we could buy supplies was to sell out to Mallick and he’d give us a note for the store.’

‘I’ve got an answer for that,’ Dusty said quietly. ‘How about your market herd, did you get it gathered?’

‘Not yet. I wanted to hire a couple of hands for a roundup but there’s none to be had out this way.’

‘We’ll see what we can do,’ promised Dusty. ‘So— Douse the lights Doc. We’ve got callers.’

They all heard the rapid drumming of hooves and this time not just one horse but several.

Doc quickly doused the light in the room and Dusty darted across to blow out the lamp on the dining-room table. The house plunged into darkness and Dusty stood by a window. He heard a soft footfall and saw Doc coming towards him.

‘You ought to be with her,’ Dusty said.

‘That’s what I thought,’ replied Doc and his teeth gleamed white in a grin. ‘Only I done fetched in, cleaned and loaded that old ten gauge and Mrs. Gibbs done got it by the window, swears to fill the hide of the first Double K skunk she sees out there. She’ll do it, too, or I’ve never seen a gal who could.’

‘I reckon she will,’ agreed Dusty for he knew Joyce had regained control of herself and was the more dangerous for it. Now she could handle the shotgun in cold determination and she knew how to make the most of it.

Nearer thundered the hooves. Clearly if these were the Double K they did not expect trouble from Gibbs or his wife. Joyce suddenly realized the riders did not come from the direction of the Double K and she turned from the window to call out this information to Dusty. A voice let out a cowhand yell from the darkness, before she could speak.

‘Hey Dusty, Doc! Don’t go fanning any lead. It’s us.’

Which left a lot unexplained to Gibbs and his wife, but apparently satisfied the two men in the dining-room. After a brief pause a match rasped and the table lamp lit once more. Joyce saw Dusty resting his carbine against the wall then open the door they had repaired.

‘I can’t think of a better reason for shooting!’ he called to the men outside, then looked across the room towards Joyce. ‘It’s all right, ma’am. They’re friends.’

Saying that Dusty stepped out of the house to greet his old friends of the Wedge trail crew.

Six men sat their horses in a half circle before the front of the Gibbs’ house. Six men who, apart from the OD Connected crew or some of his illustrious kin, Dusty would rather have seen than any others at such a time. Rusty Willis was one, leaning on his saddlehorn at the right of the party. Next to him, tall, slim, still retaining some of his cavalryman’s stiff-backed grace, sat Stone Hart. He would have been a handsome young man had it not been for the sabre scar on his right cheek, a memento of a cavalry clash in the War Between The States. He wore cowhand clothes neither better nor worse than those of the others, but about him hung the undefinable something which sets a leader of men apart from the others. Stone Hart was such a leader of men. He rode as trail boss for the Wedge and that took a leader, not a driver of men.

‘Rusty allows you found some trouble, Dusty,’ Stone said, his voice an even cultured deep south drawl.

‘You called it right, Stone,’ Dusty agreed, then threw a glance at the woman in the doorway. ‘Can they light a spell, ma’am?’

‘Of course they may,’ she answered, annoyed at being so lax in her hospitality. ‘Please get down, gentlemen.’

Now she was no longer scared and half-hysterical Joyce could tell quality when she saw it. Every man in that group looked like a tophand, even the medium sized, stocky man with the drooping moustache and the woe-begone look on his face. The rest did not look like hired hard-cases, but they did look like remarkably efficient fighting men. He alone did not fit into the picture, or the sort to be tied in with such an outfit as the Wedge. Later she found this man, Peaceful Gunn by name, would move easily two inches out of his way if he ran into trouble. His element was a fight into which he could plunge, all the time insisting he was a peace-loving and easy-going as a dove. Joyce knew something of wild animals and knew the dove, for all its being regarded as the bird of peace, was in reality amongst the toughest and most trouble-hunting of birds, always ready for a fight.

Next to Peaceful sat a tall, wide shouldered, freckle faced and handsome young man with a fiery thatch of red hair. He wore cowhand clothes and belted a low hanging Army Colt. He rode as scout for the Wedge. Folks said Johnny Raybold, as the red head was named, could eat as much as would founder a good-sized horse although he preferred something more nourishing than grass. He had other good qualities and could be relied on in any man’s fight.

While the other three men were not members of Stone Hart’s regular crew, all carried a look of tophands who knew what their guns could be used for. They were the usual type of men he hired, tough, salty, loyal to the brand they rode for. Stone introduced them as Tex, Shaun and Billy.

The men trooped into the house at Joyce’s invitation. She watched Peaceful as he peered around him a shade nervously. His moustache, which was capable of more expression than most folks could get from their entire face, dropped miserably and gave him the appearance of a terrified walrus.

‘Where they at?’ he asked in a tone which suggested they might be hiding under the table ready to jump him. ‘It’s getting so a body can’t ride a trail these days without running into fuss.’

The rest of the men ignored Peaceful’s words. Johnny Raybold gave out a whoop and held out a hand to Dusty.

‘Where at’s thishere wire, Dusty?’ he asked. ‘And where’s Mark ‘n’ the Kid?’

‘What you want them for?’ groaned Peaceful, his moustache drooping like the wilted lily on a cheap undertaker’s lapel. ‘They’ll only help wind us up in more trouble.’

This brought howls of derision from the others who all knew Peaceful much better than did Joyce.

‘Should head for the badlands and go ‘round,’ he went on miserably. ‘That way we won’t wind up in fuss with them gents who strung the wire.’

‘Get mum, all of you,’ Stone growled, bringing an end to the argument which was developing, even before it started. ‘We all know you’d be fit to be tied if I even thought of going round.’

‘Rusty tell you it all, Stone?’ Dusty asked, while Joyce went to fetch coffee for her guests.

‘What he knew about it. What’s on that tricky Rio Hondo mind?’

‘I figured that Double K might come back and that’d we’d give ‘em a real Texas welcome, only I needed a few friends on hand to tote ‘round the tea and biscuits for the guests.’

Stone Hart smiled. He’d known Dusty for a few years now and they’d sided each other in a couple of tight spots in that time. One thing he did know for sure. The situation up here must be very grave for Dusty to send for help during a drive. Dusty knew trail driving, knew it from the angle of hand and as trail boss, so he would not lightly send and ask for men.

‘Stake ‘em out the way you want,’ he said, setting the seal of approval on Dusty’s actions and giving permission for orders to be passed to his men. Stone hired the men, it should be to him to make any arrangements for their employment, but he knew Dusty had a better idea of the situation and knew what would be needed in offence and defence.

‘I’ll have Johnny staked out on the range about a mile out towards the Double K, waiting for the first sound of their coming. When they get here I want some of the boys in the out-buildings, some here. I want that bunch boxed in and held tighter than a Yankee storekeeper’s purse strings.’

‘Get to it, Johnny,’ drawled Stone. ‘Which’s the way Double K’ll most likely come ma’am?’

‘That way,’ Joyce answered, a finger stabbing in the direction of the Double K house. ‘But they might not come that direction.’

‘It’s likely they will,’ Dusty replied. ‘They don’t know about Stone and the boys and’ll likely think they’ve got nothing to worry about. So they’ll come the easiest direction.’

‘Dusty could be right at that, ma’am,’ Stone put in.

Joyce noticed the trail boss never looked straight at her and tried to keep the unscarred side of his face to her all the time. She felt sorry for him, he must have been a really handsome young man before the Yankee sabre marred his face. Even now a woman would not find him revolting; the scar looked bad, but could have been far worse. Much as she wished to tell him her thoughts she knew any reference to his injury would offend Stone. He would not want a stranger to mention it.

The men stood around Joyce’s table and drank their coffee, all except Johnny who knew what was expected of him and faded off into the dark astride his big iron grey night horse. Only Peaceful seemed to be worried by the forthcoming possible visit and Joyce got the feeling that he did not care as much as he pretended.

‘What do you want from the rest of us, Dusty?’ asked Rusty Willis.

‘Stone, Doc and I’ll stay at the house,’ Dusty answered with a grin. ‘And don’t go saying we’re pulling rank on you — because we are. Rest of you pick out your places and wait until you hear Johnny come back. Put your hosses in the barn, but keep them saddled. If Double K hit, I want them. Not one’s got to get back to their spread.’

‘These Double K bunch, Cap’n Fog,’ put in one of the new Wedge hands, ‘How’d you want them, alive or dead?’

‘Whichever way you have to take them.’

Dusty’s reply came in a fiat, even voice, but every man present knew what he meant. Shoot if you must and if you must shoot, shoot to kill, that was Dusty’s meaning. It was the way of a tough lawman, of the man who tamed Quiet Town. Such would be the orders he gave to his deputies when they went after a dangerous outlaw in the line of duty. In the same manner Dusty now spoke. He did not want killings or trouble, but if Double K forced them on him he would try and prevent his side from taking lead if he could.

‘How about me, Dusty?’ asked Joyce after the men went to their posts. She used his given name, having received no encouragement to carry on with his formal rank and title, and knowing far better than call a cowhand ‘mister’ after being introduced.

‘If they come, get in the bedroom with your man. Let Doc handle the fighting, he’ll be in there. Stone, Johnny and I’ll be out here.’

‘Don’t you think it might be better to send that miserable looking man back to the herd?’ she asked. ‘He looked terrified when he went out to the barn.’

Two faces looked at her, trying to see if she was joking, then Dusty and Stone started grinning.

‘You mean Peaceful, ma’am?’ asked Stone.

‘I don’t know his name. Nobody got around to introducing me to any of you.’