Then he rose to his feet and began a hunt for the Poole brother who had gunned down George Harker. Aware that the man with the rifle could now be on the ground floor, Vejar moved slowly and silently along the narrow gangways between stacks of goods, in search of the stairs.
Finding the staircase in a corner of the huge room, he climbed cautiously, one step at a time. By placing most of his weight on a heavy
handrail as he crept upwards, he prevented the stairs from making any sound. But he was about two-thirds from the top when a tiny creak was immediately followed by a loud crack as the wood gave a little. As still as a stone statue, Vejar waited. Within a split second a gun roared and a bullet slammed into the wooden wall behind his head. A sliver of wood sliced along his cheek, and he felt blood seeping out to run down his face.
To attempt going up would be suicidal. But Vejar wasn’t prepared to wait for the man who had shot at him to come down. If he wasn’t going up, then he had to find a way of getting the gunman to come down. Examining the stair rail, he discovered it was fixed securely to the actual staircase by a number of regularly spaced wooden uprights. Going down the stairs he searched the stores to find a length of thick rope. Throwing one end of the rope up over the rail, he caught it coming down and pulled it until both ends were level. Holding the ends together, he backed across the room until there was no slack in the doubled rope. His plan was to pull on the rail to make the staircase collapse. When the man upstairs heard the wood
cracking
, he would realize what was happening. He would be forced to come down to avoid being trapped on the upper floor.
Yet the plan would put Vejar in jeopardy. He would need both of his hands and all of his strength if he was to wreck the staircase. That meant holstering his .45.
Exploring with his feet in the gloom, he located a step to brace them against. Then he strained, pulling hard on the rope. But, despite his efforts, the stair rail held fast. Leaning back to employ his weight so that his body was at a precarious angle, he tried again. This time there was a loud creaking, but the wooden structure remained intact. Sweating profusely and gritting his teeth, Vejar again put all of his strength into the task. He was about to admit defeat when the staircase suddenly broke away from the wall.
It happened so fast that Vejar lost his balance when the rope went slack. First tottering
backwards
, he then fell heavily. In the poor light, he saw a panicking figure starting to descend the disintegrating stairs. The man fired a handgun and Vejar’s neck burned as a bullet grazed it. Pulling himself up on to his feet, Vejar drew his gun and fired. He saw his target drop sideways and crash to the floor just as the staircase collapsed noisily in a cloud of dust.
Needing to know that his adversary was dead, and curious as to which of the Poole brothers it was, Vejar hurried across the floor and dropped to one knee beside the inert figure. Expecting to
see Michael Poole, he jerked back involuntarily as he saw the sightless eyes of Richie Deere
staring
up at him.
Leaning against a wall, badly shaken at having killed the young outlaw whom he had grown fond of, Vejar recognized Ken Klugg’s thinking behind what had just occurred. Klugg had sent the kid into Yancey to gun down the sheriff, thereby leaving the town wide open for the bank raid. Vejar and George Harker had made the mistake of thinking that one of the Poole
brothers
had been lying in wait for Vejar.
Bringing the sheriff to mind jolted Vejar into remembering that Harker had been in a bad way when he had left him lying on the boardwalk. Untying his bandanna, he used it to wipe the blood away from the cut on his face, and then dabbed gingerly at the groove the kid’s bullet had dug along the side of his neck. Then, with a final, regretful look at the body of Richie Deere, he picked up the rifle that had fallen to the floor beside the kid. Then Vejar went to the window he had smashed to enter the building, and climbed out.
Brought out on to the street by the sound of gunfire, Wu Chua had insisted that the injured sheriff be carried into his sitting-room. A
frantically
worried Raya arrived to find George Harker
stretched out on a sofa, being tended by Dr John Thurston. Lin Chua, the teashop proprietor’s wife, fussed around exchanging blood-reddened bowls of water for fresh hot water as the doctor worked on the wound in Harker’s chest.
Shirtsleeves rolled up, his hands and forearms red with blood, the doctor took one look at the distressed Raya and told the Chinaman, ‘Take the girl out of the room, Mr Chua.’
Allowing Wu Chua to move her away, Raya refused to leave the room. She was standing by a wall, with the teashop owner’s arm comfortingly round her shoulders, when the door opened and Fallon Vejar walked in. Carrying a rifle, he was a frightful sight. There was a deep gash along one side of his cheek, a bleeding bullet wound on his neck, and his shirt was in tatters.
She wanted to go to Vejar, ask him what was going on, hopefully get reassurance from him that George would be all right. But Wu Chua prevented her from doing so. She watched Vejar walk over to stand looking down at the sheriff, heard him ask, ‘How is he, Doc?’ Though Dr Thurston spoke too low for her to catch his words, his facial expression confirmed that she should fear the worst.
Vejar had been invited to the emergency
meeting
of the town council called later that night. It was, as usual, being held in the rear room of Randall’s general store. When Vejar walked in, Randall, Hiram Anstey, Henry Drake, and Dr Thurston were seated side-by-side along the length of a large table. The atmosphere was solemn, but Hiram Anstey greeted him affably.
‘It is good of you to come here so late at night, Fallon, particularly after what you have been through this evening.’
As Vejar acknowledged the greeting with a nod, Randall slyly slid a hand to the centre of the table, palm down. Lifting the palm, he said, ‘You know what this is.’
‘A tin star,’ Vejar replied.
‘It is a deputy sheriff’s badge,’ Randall corrected him, an expression of distaste at Vejar’s reaction twisting his florid face.
‘So?’ Vejar shrugged.
‘I will be surprised if Sheriff George Harker makes it through tonight,’ John Thurston announced gravely.
Perturbed, Vejar said, ‘I’m real sorry to hear that, Doc.’
‘That is why we are asking you to be deputy sheriff,’ Walter Randall said. Though not a sly man, he did, however, speak more confidently when not looking directly at the person he was addressing. He studied the ceiling, his head back a little.
‘Perhaps even to become sheriff if….’ Diplomatically, Hiram Anstey didn’t complete his sentence.
‘Harker told us that you brought news of a possible bank raid here in Yancey,’ Randall said. ‘It seems that you know the band of outlaws concerned.’
‘
Probable
bank raid,’ Vejar pointed out.
‘This isn’t a time for word play,’ Randall protested tetchily. ‘The facts are that our town is under threat, and we have absolutely no way of defending it.’
‘Jim Reynard’s letting you have six men from the Lazy J,’ Vejar reminded him. ‘Barricade each end of the town, and deploy three of those men to man each of the barricades and you’ll prevent the Klugg gang from entering Yancey.’
‘Things have changed,’ Randall told him glumly.
‘Reynard was letting George Harker have his men out of friendship,’ Henry Drake expanded on the subject. ‘With Harker out of action, the Lazy J offer of help is no longer available. It’s an extremely busy time at the ranch.’
‘All we have is you and ourselves, Vejar,’ John Thurston added. ‘We know you feel that this town judged you badly in the past, but—’
‘You don’t have me,’ Vejar said. ‘I appreciate your difficult situation, and assure you that the past has no bearing on my decision. For personal reasons, I shall be leaving town in the morning.’
‘Then all is lost,’ Hiram Anstey groaned.
‘I am sorry, gentlemen.’
Saying this, Vejar turned and walked out of the door. The four men left sitting at the table looked despairingly at each other. They didn’t speak for some time. Then Hiram Anstey posed the question that none of them had an answer to, when he asked. ‘Where does this leave us?’
‘Fallon Vejar was our only hope,’ Dr Thurston commented gloomily.
‘Can we come up with something to change his mind?’ Randall queried.
‘Men like Vejar don’t permit anyone to change their minds,’ the doctor said. ‘The only
person in Yancey that Vejar is likely to listen to is George Harker.’
‘And George Harker won’t be around to speak to him,’ Henry Drake uttered, with a long sigh.
‘Exactly,’ Dr Thurston said.
‘At least we have until the morning to find some way to have Vejar stay in town.’ Walter Randall’s words sounded hopeful, but they were made worthless by the pessimism in the way he spoke them.
‘If we had until domesday, then the result would be the same,’ Dr Thurston predicted.
With the sun of a new day just edging up over the horizon, Fallon Vegar hitched his saddled horse to the rail outside of the jailhouse. Then he walked hesitantly towards the town’s sedate teashop. His reluctance was caused by the clear memory of George Harker’s lifeless appearance when he had seen him last night. He couldn’t leave Yancey without bidding his old friend farewell, but he felt it unlikely that the sheriff had survived the night.
Opening the door to him, Lin Chua gave him a wan smile that gave Vejar hope until he recalled that a smile was the sweet Chinese woman’s habitual expression. She ushered him into the room where Harker lay, covered by a blanket. The slight rise and fall of the cover
assured Vejar that the injured man was
breathing
, albeit shallowly. Raya Kennedy sat on a chair beside Harker. The tired look and strain on her face eased a little at the sight of Vejar. She stood and walked to stand close to him.
‘George is doing well,’ she reported. ‘Dr Thurston has already called in this morning. He didn’t say so, of course, but I could see that he found it difficult to credit that George was still alive.’
‘Have you been here all night?’ Vejar asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What did the doc say about George this morning, Raya?’
‘He said that he could make no promises,’ Raya reported. ‘But he did say that George is a very strong man, which is all to the good.’
‘It would take more than one bullet to finish George Harker,’ Vejar said, smiling at the girl. ‘He’ll pull through, Raya, I’m sure of that. When he’s feeling better, tell him that I am sorry, but I have no choice but to leave Yancey.’
‘Are you going today, Fallon?’ Raya asked with a courageous smile.
‘I’m leaving right now.’
‘But …’ Raya started to speak, but a sob caused her to falter. ‘But George needs you. The town needs you.
I
need you, Fallon.’
She said the last four words faintly. Pondering
on the meaning behind them, Vejar then braced himself to say goodbye. He kissed her quickly and lightly on the forehead. ‘Look after George, and take care of yourself, Raya.’
Reaching the door he could hear her weeping softly, but he didn’t turn for fear that he would weaken. But then he was shocked into
immobility
as he heard George Harker’s voice croak his name.
Turning his head very slowly, he saw that Raya had rushed back to crouch beside the sheriff, whose head was turned and his eyes open,
looking
at Vejar.
‘Fallon.’
The voice was a muted croak, but it brought Vejar back to the sheriff’s side. Harker’s lips moved in an unsuccessful attempt at uttering more words. Then he found his voice again, but it was so feeble that Vejar had to stoop to catch what he said. ‘Which one of them got me, Fallon?’
‘It wasn’t one of the Pooles,’ Vejar told him.
‘But I thought that one of the brothers was firing at you, and hit George by mistake.’ Raya was badly frightened by Vejar’s revelation.
Mystified, Harker struggled to find the energy to continue talking. At last, he asked hoarsely, ‘Then who?’
‘That bullet was intended for you, George.
Klugg sent someone into town to put you out of action before he hits the bank.’
This brought a cry of alarm from Raya. ‘Then if the outlaws hear that George is alive they will make another attempt to kill him.’
‘No, Raya,’ Vejar said, with a negative shake of his head. ‘Ken Klugg can’t risk losing another man before raiding the bank.’
Realization made Harker say, ‘You got the man who shot me.’
‘Not a man, George, a boy. A kid named Richie Deere,’ Vejar explained. ‘The kid was a friend of mine.’
‘Oh dear. You must feel terrible because you shot him, Fallon,’ Raya gasped, tears welling up in her eyes.
With a shrug, Vejar answered, ‘I feel terrible when I kill anyone, Raya, but I guess I feel it worse this time. The kid didn’t deserve to die, but Klugg does for using him in the way he did.’
Having closed his eyes to recover the strength he had used up by talking, George Harker opened them again to look hopefully at Vejar. ‘You’ve made a start against that gang, Fallon, and Yancey needs you. Walter Randall and the rest of them will probably be coming in to see me sometime today. I reckon that I could persuade them to let you take my place as the law around here.’
‘They offered to make me deputy sheriff last night.’
‘And?’
‘You know how I’m fixed,’ Vejar replied. ‘I just can’t go against the Klugg gang.’
Taking a quick glance at Raya, Harker said to Vejar, ‘It appears to me that to take charge here is the only chance you have of protecting your friend in the gang. Money brings out the worst in those who have it and those who don’t. With no law in Yancey, folk here will go to any lengths to protect their interests, and the street will run with blood. I would ask of no man that he goes against his conscience, yet if you become the law here you can keep things civilized, Fallon.’
‘One man can’t alter things,’ Vejar said flatly.
‘You aren’t
one man
, you are Fallon Vejar.’ Harker raised his voice in emphasis, an exercise that rapidly tired him.
To Vejar it seemed that he had already passed some invisible point of no return. George Harker was talking sense. If Vejar was running things he had a chance to foil the bank raid and maybe save the life of Gloria Malone. But it would be a momentous task, and failure on both counts couldn’t be ruled out. Then there was Raya and George Harker to be considered. He couldn’t ride away and leave them at this time of crisis in Yancey.
He went to speak to Harker, but the sheriff had expended all of his severely depleted energy, and had slipped into unconsciousness. Turning to Raya, Vejar said, ‘When George comes round, tell him that the next time he sees me I’ll be wearing a tin star.’
‘Oh thank you so much, Fallon.’
A tearful but grateful Raya ran to Vejar to kiss him on the cheek. It was a kiss that held more poignancy and apprehension than it did passion. He held her for a moment. A moment too long where his feelings were concerned. They stood for a moment, aware only of each other. Then he turned and went out of the door with the fragrance of the young woman still adhering to him.
The non-return of Richie Deere had caused consternation in the outlaw camp. With both the kid’s fate and the present situation in Yancey a mystery, the following morning Klugg sent Gloria into town on yet another reconnaissance mission.
Locating the only dressmaker’s premises on the street, a tiny building with a small-windowed shop front, she dismounted, looked cautiously around her for a moment, then entered. Raya and another young women were standing
examining
a bolt of brightly coloured material.
Raya’s face lit up on seeing Gloria. ‘Carmel!’ she exclaimed. ‘What a lovely surprise. This is Mary, my friend and partner.’
‘Hello.’ Gloria gave Mary a friendly smile. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting your work, Raya, but I was in town and thought I would call to see you.’
‘I’m so glad that you did, Carmel. Was the ranch you were looking at suitable?’
‘The deal’s all but done,’ Gloria replied. ‘Now, tell me about you. Are you still doing your
nursing
bit?’
‘Oh, you haven’t heard, have you, Carmel?’
‘Heard what?’
‘George was shot last night.’
‘The sheriff shot?’ Gloria showed fake surprise and shock. ‘He isn’t …?’
‘No. He’s badly hurt, but the doctor told me earlier that he will pull through.’
‘Thank the Lord,’ Gloria said, sighing long and loud. Then she went on, ‘This is terribly
selfish
of me, Raya, but I put mine and Alan’s money in the bank here, and now there isn’t a sheriff.’
Raya said reassuringly. ‘You have no need to worry, Carmel. Fallon Vejar has agreed to be the law in Yancey temporarily. Believe me, your money is as safe with Fallon as sheriff as it was when George was in charge.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ Gloria expressed her relief. She looked flustered then. ‘I’m sorry that I can’t stay longer, Raya, but my brother will be worrying about me if I don’t get back.’
‘I understand, and it was grand seeing you, Carmel,’ Raya said. ‘I hope that it won’t be long before you return to Yancey.’
Clasping Raya’s hand, giving it an affectionate little squeeze, Gloria assured her. ‘I promise you that I’ll be back in town very soon.’
Raya frowned, puzzled by the strange way her friend had spoken her parting words. But she then told herself that she was being silly, and turned her attention to Mary and the business they had been discussing.
‘This is my nephew, Jonathan, my sister’s boy. He’s willing to help you.’
Walter Randall introduced his relative to Vejar. He was young, with long black hair
drooping
like string from under his hat. An
upbringing
in business had given his narrow face the unmistakable cunning that comes from such an environment, but his thin body was alert with the tension of a hunting animal. Vejar noticed that for all his sharpness of features, the boy had impressively large and intelligent eyes.
They were standing a little way into a copse at the end of Yancey’s main street, just far enough
for heavy shadows to be cast. The town had a very peaceful atmosphere. Vejar found himself silently comparing it with the violence that would soon descend.
He remarked. ‘You are not wearing a gunbelt, Jonathan.’
‘I have never owned a gun.’
Neither have you fired one, I’ll bet, Vejar thought despondently. Yet, all alone except for old Dan Matthews, he was in no position to be choosy. Though it probably had never been put to the test, the boy had the look of someone who could handle himself.
‘Well,’ Vejar said, ‘as long as you know what you’re letting yourself in for, I’ll be glad of your help.’
‘He won’t let you down, Vejar,’ Randall spoke up. ‘With you to train him he’ll soon be a top man with a gun.’
‘There’s no time for that,’ Vejar exclaimed. ‘Do you stock shotguns in your store, Randall?’
‘The finest that money can buy.’
‘Then fix up your boy with one,’ Vejar instructed before he turned to the nephew. ‘You don’t need to be an expert with a scattergun, Jonathan. Just point it in the direction of who you want to gun down, and it’s impossible to miss.’
With a nod that signalled he understood,
Jonathan said. ‘I’ve a buddy, Len Hobart, who’d like to help out, too.’