the Strong Shall Live (Ss) (1980) (5 page)

"Nobody asked you," Pennock said.

Pennock had an ugly expression in his eyes, but Bostwick was suddenly aware that Pennock was in no hurry to push trouble. That was an interesting point. Because he was a stranger? Because the attack had surprised him? BecausePennock was a sure-thing man who had no desire to tackle tough strangers? It was a point worthy of some thought.

Talk started up again, and Kate came around and laid an enormous slab of apple pie on Bostwicks' plate. When he looked up, she was smiling.

No man such as Pennock just happens. Each has a past and perhaps somewhere back down the line Pennock was wanted. Or maybe he had taken water for somebody--

"Pennock?" he muttered. "That name does sound familiar." Bostwick looked him over coolly. "Been around here long?"

Pennock's lips thinned out, yet he fought back his anger. "I'll ask the questions here. What do you want in Yellowjacket?"

"Just passin' through."

"A drifter?"

"No, I'm with a big outfit south of here, below the Bradshaws. The Slash Five."

Grove looked up at the mention of the name. "Ain't that the outfit that treed Weaver?"

It had been a fight with some tinhorn gamblers, but Bostwick lied, "We didn't like the town marshal. He gave one of our boys a rough time, so we just naturally moved in."

Kate asked, "What happened to the marshal?"

"Him? Oh, we hung him!" Bostwick said carelessly. "That is, we hung the body. I figure he was already dead because we dropped a loop on him and drug him maybe three hundred yards with some of the boys shootin' into him as we drug him. He was a big feller, too."

"What's that got to do with it?" Pennock's face had lost color but none of the meanness in his eyes.

"Huh? Oh, not much! Only them big fellers don't hang so good. Bodies are too heavy. This feller's head pulled off. Would you believe it? Right off I"

Pete and Shorty would get a boot out of thatstory. Just wait until he told them! They'd never hung anybody or dragged anybody. A couple of the tinhorns tried to shoot it out but Shorty was, for a cowhand, mighty good with a gun. He nailed one, and Pete wounded the other one. Then they had pitched all the rest of the tinhorns' gear into the street and ran them out of town in their sock feet.

He was aware the others were enjoying his baiting of the town marshal. He was enjoying it himself, and with a good meal inside him he had lost his grouch. But none of this was getting him anywhere closer to Squaw Springs--nor was it getting that girl and her grandad out of trouble.

It was then he remembered they were planning to file on Squaw Springs themselves, so if somehow he got them out of trouble--

He stopped abruptly. Now who said he was getting them out of trouble? What business was it of his? A man could get himself killed, butting into such things.

But saying he did get them out of trouble, then they would be going after the same claim he wanted!

It was a good claim. The spring had a fine flow of excellent water, and the land lay well for farming or grazing. A man could do something with it, fruit trees, maybe. A place like his folks had back East.

Pennock wanted that claim, too, and any way a man looked at it Pennock was in the way.

Cap Pennock finished eating and went outside, ignoring Bostwick. Pennock stopped outside the boardinghouse window picking his teeth with the ivory toothpick that had been hanging from his watch chain. He was looking across the street at the covered wagon. That decided Bostwick. He would get them out of trouble first and then decide about the claim.

"You better lay off Pennock," Harbridge warnedhim. "He's a killer. He'll be out to get you now, one way or the other.

"He'll get out that book of city laws and find something he can hang onto you."

Bostwick had a sudden thought. "Is there just one of them law books? I mean, does anybody else have a copy?"

"I have, I think," Kate replied dubiously. "My old man was mayor during the boom days. I believe he had one."

"You have a look. I'll talk to that girl."

There was worry in Kate's eyes. "Now you be careful, young man! Don't take Pennock lightly!"

"I surely won't. I ain't anxious to get hurt. You see," he said ruefully, "I had my heart set on Squaw Creek myself!"

He splashed across the street to the wagon and rapped on the wagon box. Dusk was falling but he could see her expression change from fear to relief as she saw him.

"Ma'am, how much does that marshal want for your horses?"

"He said fifty dollars."

"How's your grandad?"

"Not very good." She spoke softly. "I'm worried."

"Maybe we better get him inside Kate's house. It's cold and damp out here."

"Oh, but we can't! If we leave the wagon the marshal will take it, too."

"You get him fixed to move," Bostwick said. "You leave that marshal to me."

When he explained to Kate she agreed readily but then wondered, "What about the wagon?"

"I'll find a way," he said doubtfully.

"I found that book," Kate said, "for whatever good it will do you."

It was not really a book, just a few handwritten sheets stapled together. It was headed boldly: City Ordnances.

Bostwick was a slow reader at best, but he seated himself and began to work his way throughthe half-dozen pages of what a long-ago town council had decreed for Yellowjacket.

Later, when he had grandad safely installed in the room where Kate's husband had once lived, he had a long talk with Kate.

"I'll do it! I'll do it or me name's not Katie Mulrennan!"

Watching his chance to move unseen, Bostwick ran through the mud and crawled into the wagon, burrowing down amidst the bedding and odds and ends of household furniture. He had been there but a few minutes when he heard a splashing of hoofs and a rattle of trace-chains. Pennock was, as he had expected, hitching grandpa's team to the wagon.

Crouching back of the seat, he waited. Pennock had learned of his moving grandad Into Kate's but had no idea Bostwick was inside the wagon.

It was dark and wet, and the big man was watching his footing as he started to clamber into the wagon. He missed seeing the hand that shot out of the darkness and grabbed the lines from his hand, nor the foot until it smashed into his chest.

Pennock let out a choking yell and grabbed at the leg as he toppled backward into the mud.

Scrambling to the seat, Bostwick slapped the horses with the lines, and the heavy wagon started with a jerk.

Behind him there was an angry shout. Glancing back Bostwick saw the big man lunge after the wagon, then slip and fall facedown in the mud. Then the team was running, and the wagon was out of town on the trail to Squaw Springs.

Jim Bostwick drove for thirty minutes until he came to what he was looking for, an abandoned barn that had stood there since boom days. He drove over the gravel approach and into the doorin the end of the barn. Fortunately, somebody had used the bam during the summer and there was hay in the mangers. He unhitched the horses and tied them to the manger, and then going outside, he eliminated what tracks he could find. The rain would do the rest.

When he had finished he went back to town riding one horse and leading the other. He took them to the livery stable, then scouted the boardinghouse, but as Kate had foretold, most of the townspeople were present.

When he entered, Cap Pennock half-started to his feet but Bostwick had a thumb hooked in his belt near his gun, and slowly Pennock sat down again.

"You the one who drove that wagon off?"

"I was. And I was completely within my rights."

Astonishment replaced anger on Pennock's face. "What do you mean... rights'?"

"You quiet down, Pennock. We've got business." Bostwick glanced at Kate. "Are you ready, judge?"

"Judge?"Pennock's hands rested flat on the table. He looked like an old bull at bay. "What's going on here?"

Kate Mulrennan banged the table with a hammer. "Court's now in session !"

Pennock looked from one to the other. "What kind of tomfoolery is this?" he demanded.

"It means," Bostwick replied, "that the town council met this afternoon and appointed me the town marshal according to the regulation set forth in the city ordnances of Yellowjacket, which decrees--read it, Katie."

The aforesaid town council shall meet on the fifth day of January, or as soon thereafter as possible, and shall appoint a judge, a town marshal and town clerk. These officials shall hold office only until the fifth of January following, at which time the council shall again meet and re-appoint or replace these officials as they shall see fit.

Bostwick's eyes never left Pennock. It was the first time the man's bluff had been called, and he was expecting trouble. Appointed to the office almost three years before, he had run the town as he saw fit and had pocketed the fines.

"That means," Jim went on, "that you are no longer the town marshal and I am. It also means that for two years you have been acting without authority. As there was no meeting of the town council in that time we will waive that part of it, but we must insist on an accounting of all the fines and monies collected by you."

"What? You're a pack of crazy fools!"

"According to regulations you get ten percent of all collected. Now we want an accounting."

Cap Pennock clutched the edge of the table. Month after month he had bullied these people, fining them as well as strangers, and no man dared deny him. Now this stranger had come to Yellowjacket and in one day his power had crumbled to nothing.

But had it? Need he let it be so? Watching Pennock, Bostwick judged that he had been wary of tackling a tough man who might be a gun-fighter, but driven into a corner, Pennock had no choice. It was run or fight.

"I haven't the money." Pennock was very cool now. "So you'll pay hell collecting it."

"We thought of that, so you have a choice. Pay up or leave town tomorrow by noon."

"Suppose I decide to pay no attention to this kangaroo court?"

"Then it becomes my job," Bostwick replied quietly, "as the newly elected town marshal..."

Cap Pennock got to his feet. Bostwick had to hand it to him. When the chips were down Pennock was going to fight for what he had. "You won't have to come looking for me, Bostwick. I'll be out there waiting for you."

Pennock started for the door and Kate calledout, "Hold up a minute, Cap! You owe me a dollar for grub. Now pay up, you cheapskate!"

Pennock's face was livid. He hesitated, then livid with anger he tossed a dollar on the table and walked out.

"Well, Jim," Harbridge said, "you said if it came to this that you'd handle it. Now you've got it to do.

"He's a dangerous man with a gun. Sandy Chase was good, but he wasn't good enough. I never would've had the nerve to go through with this if Kate hadn't told us you'd face him, if need be."

"Are you fast?" Grove asked.

"No, I'm not. Probably I'm no faster than any of you, but I'll be out there and he'd better get me quick or I'll take him."

Bostwick disliked to brag, but these men needed to believe. If he failed them they would take the brunt of Pennock's anger.

When they had trooped out of the room and gone to their homes, Bostwick sat down again, suddenly scared. He looked up to see Ruth watching him.

"I heard what was said. You've done this for me... for us, haven't you?"

Bostwick's hard features flushed. "Ma'am, I ain't much, and I'm no braver than most, it's just that when I see a man like him something gets into me."

"I wish we had a few more like you!" Kate said.

She gestured to the table. "You set, I've some more of that pie." She looked around at Ruthie. "You, too, you look like you could do with some nourishment."

When the sun hung over the street, Bostwick stood in a doorway thinking what a damned fool he was. Why, Shorty, who laid no claims to being good with a gun, was better than he was. Yet he had walked into this with his eyes open.

He must make no effort at a fast draw. He was not fast, and he would be a fool to try. He must accept the fact that he was going to be hit, and he must hope that the first shot didn't kill him.

He might have time for one shot only, and he must be sure that shot would kill. Jim Bostwick was a man without illusions. He knew he was going to take some lead, and he had to be prepared for it. Yet he was a tough man, hard years of work and brutal fights had proved that. He was going to have to take some lead and keep a'comin'.

He was a good shot with a pistol, better than most when shooting at targets, only this time the target would be shooting back.

The sun was baking the wetness from .the street and from the false-fronted buildings. Somewhere a piano was playing. He stepped into the street

"Bostwick!"

The call was from behind him! Cap Pennock had been lurking somewhere near the livery stable and had outsmarted him, played him for a sucker.

Cap was standing there, big and rough, a pistol in his hand. And he was smiling at the success of his trick. Cap fired.