the Rider Of Ruby Hills (1986) (46 page)

He lay in the shade of a huge Norway pine, resting and thinking of what lay ahead of him, thinking of the fight with Tombull Turner. Lying there with his eyes shut, he could hear the sound of the shovels as Runyon and Jesse Hatfield dug a grave for Lije. In his mind he was taking himself back to the times when he had seen Turner fight. He was remembering, not the battered men who went down before Turner, but every move the big man made.

No man was without a fault. Kilkenny had been taught well. He knew how he must plan, and he ran over and over in his mind the way the big man held his hands, the way his feet moved when he advanced or retreated, the way they moved when he punched, and what Turner did when hit with a left or right.

Each fighter develops habits. A certain method of stopping or countering a punch is easy for him, so he uses that method most, even though he may know others. A smooth boxer, walking out into the ring and expecting a long fight, will feel out an opponent, find how he uses a left, how he blocks one. Then he knows what to do.

If he lasted in this fight, Kilkenny knew, he would last only because of brains, only because he could think faster, better, and more effectively than Turner or those who handled him.

Yet again and again as he lay there thinking, his mind reverted to Nita Riordan. The dark, voluptuous beauty of the Irish and Spanish girl at the Crystal Palace was continually in his mind. There was something else, too. In the back of his mind loomed the huge, ominous Cain Brockman.

On that desperate day back in Cottonwood, in the Live Oak country, he had killed Abel, and Cain had been thrown from his rearing horse and knocked unconscious. Later, in the Trail House, he had slugged it out and whipped Cain in a bitter knock-down-and-drag-out fistfight. Cain had sworn to kill him. And Cain Brockman was in Cedar Bluff.

When night came, Kilkenny threw a saddle on a slim, black horse and rode out of the cup. He was going to see Nita. Even as he rode, he admitted to himself there was little reason to see her except that he wanted to. He had no right to take chances with his life when it could mean so much to the cause he was aiding, yet he had to see Nita. Also, he could find out what Hale was doing, what he was planning.

He rode swiftly, and the black horse was eager for the trail. It wasn't Buck, but the horse was fast, with speed to spare.

It was late when he rode down to the edge of Cedar Bluff, and his thoughts went back to Leathers, aroused out of a sound sleep and made to put up groceries, and to Dan Cooper, the tough cowhand and gunman who had watched Leathers' store. Cooper was a good man on the wrong side. Leathers was a man who would be on any winning side, one of the little men who think only of immediate profits and who try to ride with the powers that be. Well, the payoff for Leathers was coming.

Leaving his horse in the shadows of the trees beyond the Crystal Palace, Kilkenny moved up into the shadows of the stable, and his eyes watched the Palace for a long time. Finally he moved, ghostlike, across the open space back of the gambling hall. Tiptoeing along the wall, he came to the door he sought. Carefully, he tried the knob. It was locked.

Ahead of him a curtain blew through an open window, waving a little and then sagging back as the momentary breeze died. He paused beneath the window, listening. Inside he could hear the steady rise and fall of a man's breathing. It was the only way in. Hesitating only a minute, he put his foot through the open window and stepped inside.

Almost at once there was a black shadow of movement, and a forearm slipped across his throat in a stranglehold. Then that forearm crushed back into his throat with tremendous power. Setting the muscles in his neck, he strained forward, agonizing pain shooting through the growing blackness in his brain. He surged forward and felt the man's feet lift from the floor. Then suddenly, the hold relaxed, and he felt a hand slide down to his gun and then to the other gun. Then he was released.

"Brigo!" he said.

"Si, Senor ," Brigo answered in a whisper. "I did not know. But only one man is so powerful as you. When you lifted me, I knew it must be you. Then I felt your guns, and I know them well."

"The senorita is here?"

"St'." Brigo was silent for a moment. "Senor, I fear for her. This Hale, he wants her very much! Also, the Cub of the bear. He wants her. I fear for her. One day they will come to take her."

Kilkenny could sense the worry in the big man's voice. "But you, Brigo?"

He could almost see the Yaqui shrug. "I see the two hombres, Dunn an' Ravitz. They watch me always. Soon they will try to kill me. The senorita says I must not go out to kill them, but soon I must."

"Wait, if you can," Kilkenny said. "Then act as you must. If you feel the time has come, do not wait for the senorita to say. You do not kill heedlessly. If there is no other way, you are to judge."

"Gracias, SenorBrigo said simply. "If you will come with me?"

Kilkenny followed him through the darkness down the hall to another door, and there Brigo tapped gently. Almost at once, he heard Nita's voice. "Jaime?"

"Si. The senor is here."

The door opened quickly, and Brigo vanished into the darkness as Kilkenny stepped in. Nita closed the door. Her long dark hair fell about her shoulders. In the vague light he could see the clinging of her nightgown, the rise and fall of her bosom beneath the thin material.

"Kilkenny, what is it?" Her voice was low, and something in its timbre made his muscles tremble. It required all the strength that was in him not to take her in his arms.

"I had to see you. You are all right?"

"Si. For now. He has given me until after the celebration to make up my mind. After that, I shall have to marry him or run."

"That celebration," he said bitterly, "is the cornerstone of everything now." Briefly, dispassionately, he told her of all that had happened. Of the trip across the Smoky Desert, of the deaths of Miller, Wilson, and Lije Hatfield, and then of the death of Sodermann and the others of Hale's men.

"Does he know of that yet?" he asked.

"I doubt it. He told me there had been an attempt to get food over the Blazer trail and that the men who made it had been wiped out. I don't think he knew more than that."

"I am going to fight Turner," he said.

She caught her breath suddenly. "Oh, no! Kilkenny, he is a brute! I have seen him around the Palace. So huge. And so strong. I have seen him bend silver dollars in his fingers. I have seen him squat beside a table, take the edge in his teeth, and lift it clear off the floor."

"I know, but I must fight him. It is my only chance to get close to Halloran." He explained quickly. "If we can just let them know that we aren't outlaws! If they could only realize what is happening here, that these are good men, trying only to establish homes! To fight him is my only chance."

"I heard you would. Brigo told me the word had come that you would fight him."

"What did Brigo say?" Kilkenny suddenly found he was very anxious to know. The big Yaqui had an instinct for judging the fighting abilities of men, Powerful, fierce, and ruthless himself, he knew fighting men, and he had been long in lands where men lived by courage and strength.

"He says you will win." She said it simply. "I cannot see how anyone could defeat that man, but Brigo is sure. He has made bets. And he is the only one who dares to bet against Turner."

"Nita, if there's a chance, say something to Halloran."

"There won't be. Hale will see to that. But if there is, I surely will."

"Nita, when the fight is over, I'll come for you. I'm going to take you away from this. Will you go?"

"Need you ask?" She smiled up at him in the dimness. "You know I will go, Kilkenny. Wherever you go I will go, Kilkenny. I made my choice long ago."

Kilkenny slipped from the house and returned to his horse. The black stood patiently, and when Lance touched his bridle, he jerked up his head and was ready to go. Yet when he reached the turn, Lance swung the black horse down the street of Cedar Bluff.

Walking the horse, he rode slowly up to the ring. It had been set up in an open space near the corrals. Seats had been placed around, with several rows close to the ringside. That would be where King Bill would sit with his friends. The emperor would watch the gladiators. Kilkenny smiled wryly.

A light footstep sounded at the side of the ring, and Kilkenny's gun leaped from its holster. "Don't move!" he whispered sharply.

"It's all right, Kilkenny." The man stepped closer, his hands held wide. "It's Dan Cooper."

"So you know I'm Kilkenny?"

Cooper chuckled.

"Yeah, I recognized your face that first day, but couldn't tie it to a name. It came to me just now. Hale will be wild when he hears."

"You're a good man, Cooper," Kilkenny said suddenly. "Why stay on the wrong side?"

"Is the winnin' side the wrong side? Not for me it ain't. I ain't sayin' as to who's right in this squabble, but for a gunhand, the winnin' side is the right one."

"No conscience, Cooper?" Kilkenny questioned, trying to see the other man's eyes through the darkness. "Dick Moffitt was a good man. So were Jody Miller, Tot Wilson, an' Lije Hatfield."

"Then Lije died?" Cooper's voice quickened. "That's not good, for you or us. The Hales, they don't think much of the Hatfields. I do. I know 'em. The Hales will have to kill every last Hatfield now or die themselves. I know them."

"You could have tried a shot at me, Cooper," Kilkenny suggested.

"Me?" Cooper laughed lightly. "I'm not the kind, Kilkenny. Not in the dark, without a warnin'. I ain't so anxious to get you, anyway. I'd be the hombre that killed Kilkenny, an' that's like settin' yourself up in a shootin' gallery. Anyway, I want to see the fight."

"The fight?"

"Between you and Tombull. That should be good." Cooper leaned against the platform of the ring. "Between the two of us, I ain't envyin' you none. That hombre's poison. He ain't human. Eats food enough for three men. Still," Cooper shoved his hat back on his head, "you sure took King Bill, an' he was some shakes of a scrapper."

Cooper straightened up. "Y'know, Kilkenny, just two men in town are bettin' on you."

"Two?"

"Uh-huh. One's that Yaqui gunman, Brigo. The other's Cain Brockman."

"Cain Brockman?" Kilkenny was startled.

"Yeah. He says he's goin' to kill you, but he says you can whip Turner first. He told Turner to his face that you was the best man. Turner was sure mad."

Dan Cooper hitched up his belt. "Almost time for my relief. If I was you, I'd take out. The next hombre might not be so anxious to see a good fight that he'd pass up five thousand dollars."

"You mean there's money on my head?" Kilkenny asked.

"Yeah. Five thousand. Dead or alive." Cooper shrugged. "Cub didn't like the idea of the reward. He figures you're staked out for him."

"Okay, Dan. Enjoyed the confab."

"Thanks. Listen, make that fight worth the money, will you? An' by the way-watch Cub Hale. He's poison mean and faster than a strikin' rattler!"

Kilkenny rode out of town and took to the hills. The route he took homeward was not the same as that by which he had approached the town. Long ago he had learned it was very foolhardy to retrace one's steps. He bedded down about daylight and slept until early afternoon.

So Cain Brockman was betting on him. For a long time, Kilkenny sat in speculation. He lived over again that bitter, bloody afternoon in the Trail House when he had whipped the huge Cain. It had seemed that great bulk was impervious to anything in the shape of a human fist. Yet he had brought him down, had beaten him into helplessness.

Parson and Quince strolled over and sat down. Their faces were grave. It was like these men to hide their grief, yet he knew that under the emotionless faces of the men there was a feeling of family and unity stronger than any he had ever known. These men loved each other and lived for each other.

"Kilkenny, you set on fightin' this Turner?" Parson inquired.

"Yes, I am," Kilkenny said quietly. "It's our big chance. It is more than a chance to talk to Halloran, too. It's a chance to hit Hale another wallop."

"To hurt him, you got to beat Turner," Quince said, staring at Kilkenny. "You got to win."

"That's right," Kilkenny agreed. "So I'm goin' in to win. I've changed my mind about some things. I was figurin' just on stayin' in there long enough to talk to the officials from Santa Fe, but now I am goin' in there to win.

"If I win, I make friends. People will like to see Hale beat again. Halloran is an Irishman, an' an Irishman loves a good fighter. Well, I got to win."

They were silent for a few minutes and Parson chewed on a straw. Then he looked up from under his bushy gray eyebrows.

"It ain't the fight what worries me. If the good Lord wants you to win, you'll win. What bothers me is after-win or lose, what happens then? Think Hale will let you go?"

Kilkenny smiled grimly. "He will, or there'll be blood on the streets of Cedar. Hale blood!"

Chapter
XV

The Chips Are Down

The crowds had started coming to Cedar by daylight. The miners had come, drifting over for the rodeo and the fight. The gold camps had been abandoned for the day, as there was rarely any celebration for them, rarely any relief from the loneliness and the endless masculinity of the gold camps.