Wayward Wind (43 page)

“Say one thing about my mother and I’ll kill you here and now and be done with it. Stay away from her, stay away from me,
stay away from the place on the Blue. How much plainer do I have to make it?”

“You-you… She’s—” Adam sputtered.

Cooper hit him again and Adam’s head bounced against the wall. Cooper grabbed his shirt front and slapped him hard across
the face with the back of his hand. “Say it,” he gritted as if he were strangling. “Say it and I’ll stomp your guts loose.”

Adam looked at him with pure hatred in his eyes. He couldn’t recall a time when a man had talked to him in such a manner.
Two years ago when the whole town heard he’d slept with a squaw and sired a son, the humiliation had brought him low for weeks,
but he’d lived it down. Now this, and by a son he’d hoped to claim.

Cooper shoved Adam from him. He staggered to regain his balance and took a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his mouth.

“You’ll be sorry for this.”

“The only thing I’m sorry for is that I didn’t kill you two years ago. I will yet, if you bother my mother or if anything
more happens to Arnie Henderson, or if you lift a finger against Griffin. Do you understand what I’m saying,
old
man?”

“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life,” Adam said with cold deliberation. His blue eyes were steel hard and focused
unflinchingly on Cooper’s face. He knew that within an hour it would be all over town that Cooper, his son, had beaten him.
The humiliation kindled a hatred, like a white-hot heat, that surged up from his toes and worked its way through him. “I could
have done a lot for you. My name carries weight in Denver.”

“You’ve already done a lot for me. You’ve saddled me with a shame I’ll never be able to live down.”

Adam looked pointedly at the clerk as if daring him ever to repeat the words he’d just heard. The small, nervous man fidgeted
and looked at the floor. Then Adam looked at the man who leaned carelessly against the wall, meaning to intimidate him as
well. Griffin stared back at him, his young face a mask of cold contempt.

“You’re
Fort
Griffin? Why, you’re just a snot-nosed kid.” Adam looked down his long nose at him and lifted his swollen upper lip as if
smelling something unpleasant.

Griffin straightened from his easy slouch as Adam approached to go out the door. “Maybe. But a kid can pull a trigger same
as a ole man.” He spoke in a conversational tone, but only a very stupid man would have failed to understand the warning.

“I’ve chewed up younguns like you and spit them out. You’re a nothing and will always be a nothing.” Adam went to shoulder
his way past.

A gun leaped into Griffin’s hand and he pressed the muzzled into Adam’s belly. “It wouldn’t take nothin’ a’tall to blow yore
guts out. I’d do it, but it’d be too quick ’n too easy. I want ya to hang ’round, ole man, ’n eat my shit.”

“You’re… crazy. I don’t even know you.” Shaken by the gun barrel that pressed painfully, Adam stuttered.

“That redheaded bastard you sent to hang me knows me. Tell him I’m alookin’ for him.”

Adam went out the door without looking back. He climbed into the landau and snarled at Jacob, “Get goin’.”

“Where we goin’, suh? Ta the ranch?”

“No, you fool. To the house on A Street. I’m not leaving town yet.”

Jacob put the team in motion and turned off the main street toward the small frame house Adam had purchased to use while he
was in town. The black servant knew he was in for a bad time. The master was in a temper. That Mister Cooper must have busted
him up good. Jacob’s thick lips split into a grin. Lordy, but it would have been fine to have seen it happen!

Adam sank back against the soft leather seat and anger took control of his mind. By God, this is the end of it. That bastard
could rot in hell as far as he was concerned. He’d humiliated himself long enough trying to lift that by-blow up by his bootstraps
and make him somebody. Parnell couldn’t be a son of his, even if he did look like him. He’s a throwback, is what he is. That
goddamn Sylvia was from bad blood and Cooper had inherited it. The sonofabitch would never get a dime of Clayhill money or
a foot of Clayhill land. He’d see to that. He’d leave it all to Delia first, even if she was a whore.

Adam straightened his hat and dabbed at his bleeding mouth with his handkerchief. He had some thinking to do. Goddamn that
Dunbar. If he’d done what he was told to do none of this would have happened. He hoped the nester killed him, then he’d see
that he was hanged for murder. By God! It might be a way out.

“Turn down toward the stock pens, you black sonofabitch, and be quick about it.”

Dunbar and a crew of men were waiting besides pens several feet deep with fresh manure. The stench, the flies, the constant
bawling of cattle was so offensive that Adam gestured to move away. The men mounted and followed the landau a few hundred
feet upwind.

“Howdy, Mr. Clayhill.” Dunbar edged his horse close to the carriage when it stopped.

“That gawddamn nester’s in town. I’m givin’ you another chance, Dunbar. Either do something about him or flag your ass out
of the territory.”

“Well… ah… whatta ya want done, Mr. Clayhill?”

“What do you think I want done, you fool? What I told you to do in the first place.” Adam’s eyes roamed over the faces of
the men that flanked him. “If you can’t do the job, I’ll find someone who… wants a nice fat bonus. Did you find that horse
herd?”

“No, sir. But we will—”

“You’d better. And, Dunbar, forget what I told you about Cooper Parnell. Do you understand?”

“You mean ’bout layin’ off him ’n not—”

“Exactly.”

Dunbar grinned and tobacco juice ran from the side of his mouth. “I know what ya mean, Mr. Clayhill. Ya ain’t got nothin’
to worry ’bout… now.”

Adam nodded and poked Jacob in the back with his boot. The whip cracked over the back of the team and the landau pulled away.

Fisher, one of the men who had been with Dunbar at the cabin on the Blue, edged his horse close to Dunbar’s. “Why didn’t ya
tell him the army bought that herd and ya didn’t even get to lay a eyeball on the gent what sold ’em?”

“Ya ain’t got no brains, Fisher. That’s why I’m ramroddin’ this outfit and you ain’t. Ya don’t give a bastard like Clayhill
bad news till ya can give him good news first. He’s pissed at Parnell, ’n if I read him right, he’s sayin’ get rid a his bastard
along with the nester.”

“Ya reckon it was Parnell that busted his mouth?”

“Nobody else’d dare.”

“Haw, haw, haw! I’d a liked to seen it. Ya didn’t tell him you’d hired on new men, neither, Dunbar. Ya’d—”

“Shut yore gawdamn mouth, Fisher. Ya ’n Peters ’n Barclay go on back to the ranch. Me ’n Brice ’n Hollis can take care this
little matter for Mr. Clayhill.”

“That’s fine with me. I ain’t awantin’ to tangle assholes with Cooper Parnell.” Fisher waved to the two men Dunbar named and
they rode off down the track.

Brice Fulton slouched in the saddle, his eyes following the expensive landau as it pulled out of sight behind the buildings.
So that was Adam Clayhill, the big muckity-muck Dunbar worked for. Dunbar was a big, stupid ass, and it hadn’t been any trouble
at all to find out he’d been sent to hang a nester and that he’d run onto him with Lorna and Bonnie and the gent called Parnell
that had brought Lorna back to Light’s Mountain. He’d paid that black-haired bitch back for using the whip on him, and he’d
pay back more if he caught her. Dunbar said Bonnie had the smallpox. Shit! She’d had the kid. If she was still living, the
nester and Parnell knew where she was. By God! She was his, as sorry a slut as she was, she was his; and nothing left him
until he was ready to run it off.

“The ole man’s payin’ a bonus. Is that why ya run the rest off?” Hollis asked.

“Why split somethin’ six ways when it can be split three? ’Less yo’re thinkin’ ya’ll need help with a skinny kid ’n Parnell.
He’s the one to watch.”

“I can take ’im,” Hollis said and adjusted his gun holster on his hip.

“It won’t be easy like it was shootin’ down that gal’s pa, or shootin’ that Tyrrell kid in the back ’cause you was scared
he’d tell,” Dunbar said. “We need to figger out a plan ’cause we cain’t just go in an’ open up on ’im.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? This ain’t the backwoods, Hollis. This is town. There ain’t no law here, but folks don’t hold with shootin’ down
a man less’n he’s shootin’ back.”

“We’ll wait till they leave town.”

Brice fingered the scars on his cheeks where Lorna had cut him with the whip and hatred boiled within him. He wasn’t through
with Lorna Douglas, not until she was naked and bleeding and begging.

They walked their horses along the back of the stores that fronted the main street. Dunbar knew of a cantina where they could
stay out of sight and wait. For a dollar and the promise of a bottle he could hire a down-and-out drifter to keep watch and
let him know when Parnell and the nester rode out.

A cowboy, half-walking, half-running, rounded the corner of a building, and Dunbar pulled rein.

“George? What the hell ya doin’ in town? Gawdammit, I told ya to get out to the west range last night.”

“’N I’m agoin’! First I’m agoin’ to beat the ass off a feisty little split-tail.”

“Yo’re agoin’ now, gawdammit!”

“Don’t crowd me, Dunbar. I said I’m agoin’. But first I’m catchin’ up with a black-haired bitch in britches and I’m usin’
her whip on her butt, then I’m agoin’ to plow the hell outta her.”

“Hold up,” Brice said, moving his horse in between the cowboy and Dunbar. “What kind a horse is she ridin’?”

“She headed north outta town on a big gray. Gawdamn bitch whipped my hat off with a bullwhip and cut me with a knife—”

The butt of Brice’s rifle smashed into the cowboy’s face with such force Dunbar could hear the bones crack. George dropped
like a sack of grain and lay still.

“What the hell’d ya do that for?”

“’Cause I ain’t wantin’ him followin’. It’s Lorna Douglas he’s talkin’ ’bout. We’ll head off that bitch ’n we’ll have us some
bait. If’n Parnell’s sweet on her like Hollis thinks he is, he’ll come. ’N we’ll have us some fun while we’re waitin’ for
him. If ’n anybody’s plowin’ the hell outta that bitch it won’t be a two-bit blowhard, it’ll be me.”

“Wait a minute,” Hollis protested. “You got a woman. Lorna’s mine. I done told ya—”

“Shut yore mouth.” Brice’s rifle barrel arched over to point at Hollis.

Brice’s words hung in the vast hollow of silence. Dunbar watched uneasily. He needed both of these men until the job was done.
Then they could kill each other. In fact, he hoped they would; it would save him from having to do it.

“We got to catch up with her afore there’s any plowin’ done. Jist don’t forget, our job’s to get Parnell ’n the nester.
That’s
what the ole man’s payin’ for.” He led off and after a few paces, he heard the horses fall in behind him.

Cooper and Griffin completed their business at the Land Office and Griffin proudly pocketed the deed to the land.

“Kick me, Cooper, ’n wake me up,” Griffin said while they stood on the board porch and looked up and down the street. “I’m
still not believin’ I got me a ranch ’n money to stock it ’n all.”

“Hell, no, I’ll not kick you. You might wake up and shoot me.” Cooper’s stomach was knotted and his heart thumped painfully
from his run-in with Adam Clayhill. God, he thought, would he ever get to the place where he could see that old bastard and
not want to puke? Aloud he said, “You’re awake, Griff. Come on, I want to find out if anyone in town’s seen Lorna. She might
not have come here. She could’ve gone to Winona.”

“Hey, Griff!” The voice came from across the street. A tall man lifted his hand, waited for a wagon to pass, then came through
the dust stirred by the rolling wheels.

“Kain!” Griff stepped out into the street and gripped his friend’s hand. “Mrs. Parnell said you’d be here. I was sure hopin’
I hadn’t missed ya. It’s good t’see ya, Kain.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Griff. When you rode off that night to lead Clayhill’s men off I expected you back in a couple
of hours. It’s been more than a month.”

“A lot has happened, Kain. I almost got to the Pearly Gates that night and would’ve if Cooper here hadn’t a stepped in. It’s
goin’ to take some tellin’. First off, did ya take yore cut from the horse money? If’n ya did, ya got a hell of a price.”

“I did get a hell of a price. What I left with Mrs. Parnell is yours.”

“I want ya to meet Cooper Parnell. He saved my bacon a couple a times, like ya’ve done, Kain. I’m athinkin’ I must a done
somethin’ right sometime, or I’d not met up with friends like you all.

“Cooper, this is Kain DeBolt, the friend I told ya ’bout.”

Cooper judged men by the look in their eyes, the set of their shoulders, the firmness of their handshake. Even if Griff hadn’t
sung Kain’s praises for days, he’d have liked him.

“Are you sure this is the one, Griff? I don’t see wings of a halo around his head.”

“What ’round his head?”

Both men laughed. “I’m glad to know you, Parnell.”

“Same here.”

“Ya’ll not believe all I’ve got t’tell ya, Kain.” Griff couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“I’ll believe it. You’ve been telling me tall tales for a year or more.”

“I don’t think he could make up a taller tale than he’ll be telling,” Cooper said. “I’ll leave him to it while I see McCloud
at the mercantile.”

At the end of the block Cooper glanced back to see that Griff and Kain had moved over next to a building and were deep in
conversation. He spared a second to wonder about the man who had befriended Griff. He certainly wasn’t what he’d expected,
but then, he thought, he’d never expected a woman would be able to tear him up as Lorna had done. He turned into McCloud’s
store.

“Howdy, Cooper. Be with you in a minute,” McCloud called from the counter. “Mrs. Colson, a churn’s a churn. Some of the ladies
like the crock churn, others swear by the barrel churn. I even sell the small glass Daisy churns, even though they hold about
a gallon of milk.”