|
I eased my way around a boulder and looked back. I had shucked out of that stupid salesman's suit and stuffed it with some brush. Now in the rising moonlight it still looked like a man still sitting on the rock watching the Hole.
I figured that they must have Anne sequestered in one of a line of cabins along about the middle of the street. To the west was one larger house where I had seen a big man come out on the porch and look around. That must have been the old man Heskins, head honcho of this sorry corner of humanity.
On the other end of the little town were the corrals and pole barns that announced a small stable. My direction of travel would lead me past this stable. I was hoping nobody would be around so that I could pick out a couple of mounts for a quick escape.
Movement on the hillside below me drew my attention. Like a deflating balloon I quickly drew back and down into the shadows. None too soon either, for a woman clutching a shotgun and muttering to herself was heading up towards the point! I stayed dead still until she was out of sight.
Before I had traveled another fifty feet I heard a shotgun blast. It was closely followed by another. Then a caterwauling the likes of which you never heard came echoing down the Hole. I didn't have the foggiest idea what this was about so I didn't even speculate. I just kept venturing toward the pole barns. Rounding a point of rock I was greeted by the muzzle blast of a pistol! Partially blinded by the flash I drew my 45 and thumbed two shots back in answer. One must have connected for the next shot came up from the ground, so close I felt the wind of it on my cheek. I could see the dark form now, raising his arm for another shot. Quickly I drove a big slug into that prone torso and heard his boot toe tap on the ground as his life left him.
I scurried a hundred yards into the thick growth toward the mouth of the Hole, for with the gunfire the whole place would know the game had opened. In a short time that caterwauling came back down the hillside. There was a definite sound of insanity in that voice.
"I killed him. I killed him but he wasn't real. George Nason is dead, DEAD, DEAD, he's dead but he is not real. I killed him I tell you I killed him..." On and on she babbled, screaming about waiting for Nason for all these years and now that she had found him he wasn't real.
Was this reality or was I dreaming I was in a story by Edgar Allan Poe? People blasting at me from out of the night; screaming women with incomprehensible messages - these things were not what I expected when I set out to rescue Anne.
I was near the stable now, and I heard the hysterical woman try to tell someone her crazy story. This was followed by a loud slap and the screaming tapered off. Apparently somebody had grown tired of her story rather quickly.
I was worried about the horses in the corrals. Were they used to the comings and goings of people or were they half wild stallions that thought they were watchdogs? When I got to the rails I relaxed, for what I saw wasn't too impressive. There were a few good mounts, but most of them were in the old nag category. A moment's reflection told me why this should be so. The bunch that lived here was more or less just a bunch of no account horse thieves that took what they could get. They didn't have the money to buy good stock, so probably half of this bunch was stolen. Only the really good mounts are guarded well.
I picked a pair of roans and put them in a chute. If Anne and I left in a hurry I wanted to know where our transportation was.
There were a lot of people moving about now, looking for the reason for the shooting and the screams. A small mob was coming closer to me and I ducked into a cabin to let them pass by. I was alert lest I walk into the muzzle of a gun but the shack was deserted.
There were signs that said it had been occupied until recently. A tipped over chair drew my attention and when I looked further I was startled to see cut rope on the floor.
This must have been where Anne had been kept! I found the broken glass and the story was easy to read. She had escaped and somewhere she was out there on her own.
For a second panic ran through my veins. Every person in Brown's Hole was an enemy and here she was trying to get free. Or was she? Could she instead be trying to find me in this dump? Had she known who I was when I sat watching the camp? I decided that she probably had. That meant she would wait until finding me before she tried to leave the Hole. For the first time I wished I did have a posse of men with me for I felt very much alone.
The door swung open at my back and I spun quickly with leveled pistol. I found myself staring into the vacant eyes of a woman gone totally mad. This must be the one I had heard screaming on the hillside. She didn't even seem to know I was there. She just mumbled in a dull monotone as she crossed the room and threw herself down on her bed.
"I finally killed him," she droned, "Killed him right off my back, but he's a ghost. I finally killed him..."
She was no threat to anybody as of now. I withdrew and left her to her rantings. Outside, I tried to understand where Anne might have gone, but there was no sign to read. She must still be in the Hole. Of this much I was quite certain. I glanced up and the moonlight made it look like a man still filled out that suit up on the bluff. I headed in that direction to see if I could find a trace of her.
Gunfire erupted on my right and was quickly answered by shots from the left. I dropped to the ground and smiled wryly. It looked like these fools were going to have a shoot out amongst themselves.
Sure enough, another withering blast of gunshots whistled over my head and an angry yowl came from both sides. A man howled, "I'll get you for that, Clay. You just shot Jamie."
I wasn't about to respond. A man from the other side yelled, "This isn't Clay, this is Arnie," but his proclamation was met by another three shots. Another withering blast started up, and while the moron army got in its licks I crawled away from the melee to further my search.
Finally one cooler head piped up in a loud bellow, "Will you guys stop shooting? We're shooting at each other, you idiots." After that the street was quiet and a count was made.
"We've got three dead. How about you guys?"
"We've got two over here."
"You idiots, we are supposed to be together in this. There is no you and we. Now lets get patched up and see if Clay really is in the Hole."
Apparently they didn't dare to split up again so they traveled down the street in one large group. I seemed to be alone. Anne and I had sometimes sang on our evening walks, and one of her favorites was "Buffalo Girls." Now I whistled the tune softly in case she was in earshot. It is amazing how difficult it is to whistle when your mouth is dry from danger.
The crowd had gone up the street, so I worked my way back down the other side toward the livery, hoping that Anne could be found in that area. As I approached a pole barn I heard the answering notes to my tune! I had found her! I rushed headlong to the door in my haste to see her and was greeted by a crash that made bright flashing light fill my eyes, accompanied by deep searing pain that instantly took away my consciousness.
Amos Heskins was fed up. Ever since this Jess Clay fellow had shown up there had been trouble. The man had been one step ahead at every turn and had been quickly diminishing the size of his clan. Not that most of these morons were any great loss. But in the matter of saving face Heskins was not doing well.
It was time to be done with Clay before the control of Brown's Hole became shaky. It didn't matter if Heskins had no hand in the matter - if people thought his strength was weakening then there would an effort to replace the current leader. Therefore Amos had better do something right now before such a move could get started.
Few of the fellows that followed him knew much about his past. If they had they would have stepped much wider from him, for he was by far the most dangerous man in the camp. Not only with all manner of weapons but in the matter of guts. Back in the hills they used to say that he didn't know the meaning of the word fear. In truth they were not far wrong. Amos would not have been able to give an accurate definition to the word. He just knew how sniveling cowards acted and used it to his advantage when possible.
It was his skill as a gunfighter that would have been the biggest surprise to most of these people. Older than any of the others, twice as old as some, he was faster than any of the lot. Faster and more accurate. Years back when he dallied in Kansas he was known to be a man to leave alone. Even Hickcock had taken his measure and let a trifling breach of the law pass rather than enter into a gunfight with Heskins that would leave the both of them dead.
It was a rare thing for two really talented gunmen to have a gunfight for the simple reason both were apt to come out losers. Especially when they were tough men that would keep fighting until their dying breath. Men like that didn't die without taking somebody with them.
He never practiced where anyone could see him, and mostly nowadays he drew and dry fired for the sake of his anonymity. While the uninitiated might not see the good in this, the best shooters can keep their skills honed to perfection just by dry firing.
Now he was through directing the efforts to take Clay. It had been Nason's idea to kidnap Clay's girl. It was okay with Heskins for he suffered no moral qualms about such crimes. Results were his only concern. That Clay was coming to rescue his girl Amos had no doubt.
Nason must be dead. Elijah too. His son had always been an odd duck. The boy had spent most of his time alone with his dark and gloomy thoughts, and Amos had to admit he hadn't known the lad at all. Or even liked him much. Still, he had been his son and he must be avenged.
Heskins went down to the cabin where Anne was kept only to find that crazy Willa moaning some unintelligible message. "She's really gone this time," he said to himself.
It was easy to see how the girl must have rolled over and cut her bounds on the broken glass. The question was - where was she now? Well, she wanted to leave, so the obvious answer was the stable. You couldn't travel far in this vast area without a horse.
Heskins eased up to the side door of the livery and slipped inside. He stood absolutely still even after his eyes had adjusted to the dim light. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes he saw the girl just inside a stall, waiting for what might happen. He didn't believe she had seen him, so he stood rock still and waited. Gunfire sounded out on the street but still he waited. If he had figured out where the girl was he knew that Clay would as well.
In another half an hour his patience was rewarded, for the door quietly opened and Clay stepped inside. He only had time to whisper an excited "Anne" before Heskins nailed him on the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. Clay went out like a light and Heskins hurriedly grabbed Anne and pulled her out the door, telling her that she would get the same as her boyfriend if she raised a fuss.
The street was now swarming with people so Heskins dragged his hostage along the back of the cabins to his own place. There he put together a stampeding pack and led Anne up the hidden trail in the back of his cabin to where he had horses waiting. It had been a long time since he had needed them, but old habits die hard and he always had a horse waiting for a fast get-a-way.
Heskins shied away from the old Outlaw Trail that ran north to Rustler's Roost because that would be the obvious route of travel. Instead he struck for a route less path into Wyoming. Perhaps if he traveled east he would throw his pursuer off the trail.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
|
