[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Something had been forcing itself upon his consciousness for some time, and
suddenly he realized what it was. On the far wall of the Gap was a vague
reflection, yet instantly he placed it.
The signal fire on Piety!
A warm feeling came over him and some of the loneliness vanished. The boys
knew, and the boys were coming. Jud Devitt would pay for this night's work.
Down the Gap there was a faint stir. Instantly, he fired. He heard the bullet
smack rock and ricochet, and a dozen rifles replied. Somewhere behind him
hoofs pounded and then a horse raced down the Gap and a voice called out,
"Hold it, Hank! It's me!"
Coffin swung down as a rifle shot, aimed at the voice, howled high and far.
"I lit the fire on Piety. The boys are comin'."
"How'd you know?"
"Saw 'em loading up. Couldn't find Shorty."
There was a long silence and Hank Rooney retrieved and relighted his cigar.
In the shelter of the chuckhouse he smoked and waited.
"Hank . . . ?"
"Yeah?"
"Feller up there on the sidewall. He's tryin' to Injun us. How many times
will he bounce?"
"He'll fall clean."
"Bet you a seegar. There's a boulder up there on that face."
"You got a bet."
The Winchester stabbed flame. They heard a grunting cry, a rattle of rocks,
and the man fell. He hit ground solidly like a sack of flour.
"You owe me," Hank said.
Bullets screamed overhead and several smacked against the chuckhouse.
"Hey where's Mahafee?"
"Aw, the old coot went back up the pass. He's got him a couple of wire traps.
Tryin' to catch some quail. He ain't back."
Hank walked to the house and brought out the two Sharps rifles and the
Spencer. Coffin was using his own Winchester.
Page 70
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Far up the pass behind them they heard the sound of horses. Neither man made
a comment, but each had been listening, and each knew the boys were coming.
Yet the first man to come into the yard came from Piety way. It was Clay Bell.
"Get set," Hank whispered suddenly. "They're fixin' to rush."
There was a sudden pound of running feet and a scramble of gravel. All three
men opened up, firing low and fast. The rifles stabbed flame into the darkness
and the acrid smell of gunpowder was in the air. Lead hailed around them, but
the rush broke.
Even as they heard retreating feet, Jackson and Brown lode into the yard and
sprang down, rifles in hand. "Ain't over, is it?" Brown pleaded. Mahafee came
into the yard behind them. He said nothing, merely went into his kitchen and
began to make coffee.
"Don't reckon they've quit," Rooney said, "but they lost their stomach for
it."
Clay waited, listening. Out in the darkness he heard a faint groan.
Holding their rifles high for greater distance, all five men fired, their
shots racketing down the Gap. Far down a man cried out, and someone cursed
wickedly. Then there was silence.
"What's the matter?" Coffin yelled, tauntingly. "You boys leavin' so soon? We
ain't had a chance to be hospitable yet!"
The echo died, and there was no other sound. The men waited, Hank Rooney
smoking placidly.
"Light up, Hank," Clay said finally, "let's see what we've got."
Hank walked to the end of the prepared fuse and knelt. He drew deep on his
cigar and the end glowed. He touched it to the fuse, which spluttered into
flame that ate its way along. Suddenly the long piles of stacked brush burst
into flame. In the bright light they could see three men lying upon the
ground. One man had been trying to drag himself away, but when the brush burst
into flame he held himself still.
"For Gawd's sake, don't shoot! We're through!" Brown caught Bell's arm.
"Listen!" In the distance they could hear the sound of wagons. A yell came,
then the sound of hoofs on stone and the rumble of wheels.
"Pullin' out," Brown said. He swore softly, bitterly. "Figured we'd have us a
battle."
Bill Coffin spoke, his voice reflective. "As I recall, Devitt bought those
broncs off Wheeler. Mighty skittish, they were."
The air was pregnant with speculation. "Mighty skittish," Jackson agreed, and
in his voice was a sudden lighting of hope.
"He always maintained," Montana Brown said gravely, "they was the fastest
runnin' teams in the country. You reckon he was right?"
"Interest of science," Coffin said, "maybe we should find out. You reckon?"
"Go ahead," Rooney suggested. "I'll see how bad those boys out there are
hurt."
Page 71
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
With a yell, the three cowhands ran for their horses and rode whooping into
the night.
Rooney chuckled. "Man's only young once," he said to Clay. He drew on his
cigar. "Boss, I reckon those horses will be the fastest runnin' teams in the
country this night, anyway!"
Hank Rooney and Bell walked out to the fallen men. "If you want to lie quiet
and be taken care of," Rooney advised them, "don't start anything."
One man was dead . . . he was that one who had been shot off the rock wall by
Coffin. One man had been shot through the leg, and the other shot twice
through the shoulder. When they were bedded down in the bunkhouse and getting
care from Rooney and coffee from Mahafee, Clay Bell walked back to the corral.
"Takin' the black," he told Hank. "I'm goin' into town. Shorty's alone."
An hour after he had gone, three weary and bedraggled punchers rode back into
the ranch yard. Over their coffee they told gleefully of their race with the
wagons.
"Them horses could run, all right," Jackson said. "Montana nicked one with a
.45 and he suddenly recalled some relatives back in Texas an' lit a shuck."
"They might have made it," Coffin agreed, " 'cept the wagon tipped over."
"Runnin' yet, them horses."
A young lumberjack with a broken leg turned around on his bunk. "What
happened to the jacks?"
"Walkin'," Coffin said.
Montana gulped coffee. "What'd you boys give us for twenty-two pairs of high
lace boots?"
"You made 'em walk? In their sock feet? Hell, I'd rather have a busted leg!"
"They started for Tucson," Coffin said. "We figured they wouldn't have no
reason to go to Tinkersville."
Quiet settled on the ranch. Jackson stood guard at the gate and was relieved
by Coffin. Montana Brown, after a word with Rooney, saddled up and started for
town. It was still dark at least an hour before the first gray of dawn would
light the sky.
Clay Bell had gone down the Gap, but turned off the trail and cut across
country for Tinkersville. The black was restless and wanted to run but he held
him in. There was no telling what might lie ahead, but he had little hope of
any break, despite this new defeat for Devitt.
Stag Harvey and Kilburn were still in town. Was that entirely accident?
It would pay to have a care, for Devitt might not hesitate to hire them. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]