Blood on Mcallister (16 page)

‘That answers you,' McAllister said. ‘Let's sleep. It'll maybe look different in the morning.'

They awoke with the dawn and ate sparingly of the little food that Rigby had brought with him. Rigby had had a slight change of mind in the night.

‘I'm sorry, fellers,' he said. ‘I sounded ungrateful the way I talked. I guess I had my feet knocked clean out from under me. I just don't want a war.'

McAllister said: ‘We're heading for this Two-Mile, Jim. How about you going back into town and rustlin' us up some supplies? Enough for a week, say. An' while you're there, check if Brenell is stayin' in town. Find out what he intends to do next if you can.'

Rigby looked doubtful, then he said: ‘All right, I'll do it.' He saddled up and headed back for town and they want north across the Kansas prairie. Billy, who had never done much riding, was feeling pretty saddle-sore and stiff after yesterday's ride. McAllister told him that he'd feel better after a day or two in the saddle. It was beyond his comprehension how a man couldn't know how to sit a horse properly. He couldn't remember when he had first been put astride a pony. All he knew was that he had always been able to ride. He reckoned he'd been able to do it before he'd known how to walk.

Before noon they came to the great break in the prairie that must be Two-Mile. Here they found a broadish canyon, tangled with rocks and timber, right below the surface of a prairie, the bottom gleaming with water. They went down and found the water good. There was excellent grass there and they hobbled their horses in it.

‘How long do we stay here?' Billy asked.

‘Till Jim comes with the supplies,' McAllister told him.

‘What do we do then?'

‘We get Brenell by the short hairs.'

‘How?'

‘Ain't too sure yet,' McAllister said with a grin. ‘But I'll think of something.'

They slept and idled the day through. McAllister set some traps and caught a jack rabbit which they broiled over a fire. To the hungry Billy, food had never tasted so good. They slaked their thirst at the creek.

The following morning, McAllister climbed with his rifle up onto level ground and watched the country. The day's rest had done him good and he was feeling something like his old self. By noon, Jim Rigby had arrived with a pack-horse laden with supplies. He agreed to leave the horse. He said he wouldn't stay now, but would get back to Pat as she was anxious about him. She was pretty worried too about Billy and she had expressed what she knew to be a vain hope that McAllister wouldn't get her husband to-be into any danger.

‘What do you aim to do, Rem?' Rigby asked.

‘Don't know for sure, Jim,' McAllister said. ‘But we'll make our headquarters here.'

‘Well, I'll wish you luck and get back.'

They shook hands and Rigby jogged away south again. McAllister led the pack-horse down into the canyon and the two men inspected the supplies Rigby had brought. Their friend had done them proud. There was plenty of food and coffee, ammunition. They had enough here to fight a small and limited war. McAllister seemed satisfied. When they had eaten a big meal, he slept and advised Billy to do the same, they wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

‘Do you know what you're going to do?' Billy asked.

‘Jim told me Brenell's still in town. He's showing Mart Krantz he has nothing to do with anything going on out on the range. We're going to make him wish he's stayed at headquarters.'

‘How?'

‘I ain't too sure yet. But I'll think of something.'

Billy had to be content with that. They both fell asleep to the sound of their horses munching grass.

It was getting near dusk when McAllister woke Billy and told him that the coffee was ready. Billy rose sleepily and
sipped scalding bitter coffee. It pulled him together. McAllister poured the dregs over the fire and buried it. Then they caught up their horses, removed the hobbles and saddled them. Full dark had fallen as they led their horses up the narrow path down from the canyon top. On the prairie, they mounted and rode south-east. Billy found that excitement was rising in him. He had confidence enough in himself in his contests, but he wondered if he had enough in him to keep up with this dark Western man he found himself partnering. They didn't speak and there was no sound but the faint music of the bridle chains, the creak of leather and the swish-swish of the horses' feet through the grass. The stars came out and the moon rode cold and clear in a cloudless sky. It was a good night for a raid. After a while, Billy was dimly aware that there were cattle about; once he saw a dark mass of them moving away from the trotting horses. He wondered if they were on Brenell range and thought they probably were.

Near midnight, McAllister brought his horse down to a walk.

‘We ain't far off now,' he said.

They travelled maybe ten minutes like this, then McAllister halted and Billy followed suit. McAllister dismounted and led his horse a short way. He handed his line to Billy and walked off some way into the night. When he came back, he said: ‘We're nearly there. Stake the horses.' They staked the horses strongly, knowing that to lose a horse in enemy country could prove disastrous.

McAllister said: ‘Let's go,' and moved off south. Billy noted that he left the Henry in the saddle-boot. He fingered the Colt in his own waist-band and wondered if he would shoot a man before the night was out. He had never shot a man in his life and he thought he probably wouldn't like doing it.

They seemed to walk for about fifteen minutes before McAllister halted.

‘Can you see the house?'

‘Where?'

McAllister pointed and gradually Billy thought he could make out the outlines of a building.

McAllister said: ‘There's the barn and the corral to the
left. The bunkhouse is on the other side of the house.'

‘What're you going to do?'

‘Young Clem Brenell's in the house. We goin' to take him. If things go our way we'll burn down the whole shebang.'

Billy caught his breath. He knew McAllister was something of a heller, but this … He felt like the merest pilgrim.

‘But, Rem, we can't do that. We don't stand a chance. There must be a dozen hands in that bunkhouse.'

McAllister looked at him in some astonishment.

‘Hell,' he said, ‘it's them don't stand a chance. You don't have the right attitude of mind, boy. You want out?'

‘No,' Billy said hastily. ‘I'm with you,'

‘Good man. Here we go.'

They walked down from the slight rise on which they stood, going silently. To the rear of the house, they found a hog pen and chickens.

McAllister said: ‘We'll take Clem first.'

‘How many men in the house?'

‘Don't know. That's a chance we have to take. I'll handle Clem. You go to the front of the house and watch the yard. Anybody shows themselves there, you shoot and keep their heads down.'

Billy found that he was trembling slightly and sweating more than slightly. He found that he couldn't stop swallowing. This wasn't quite the sort of thing he had in mind when he decided on marrying Pat Rigby and entering the cattle business. He followed McAllister as he moved soundlessly toward the house.

They had no trouble entering, for the rear door was unfastened. McAllister opened it slightly and they went inside. Billy reckoned they were in the kitchen. They moved across this, found the door and in a moment were at the foot of a flight of stairs. To their left was a door; McAllister opened this and entered a room that must have been some sort of parlor. He signalled for Billy to go to the window and the fair man crossed the room and lifted the sash. He took his gun out and gazed across the yard at the bunkhouse which he could see clearly in the moonlight. In there slept the men who could shoot him to death. It was not a comforting thought.

McAllister picked up a lamp from the table and went with
it into the hall. Here he lit it and, with the lamp in his left hand and his gun in his right, he started up the stairs.

At the head of the stairs was a door. He opened this quietly and saw a man asleep in bed. He was groaning faintly, but he was soundly off. This was Clem Brenell. McAllister backed out of the room and closed the door silently behind him. He went deeper into the house and found another door. He opened this onto an empty bedroom and reckoned it belonged to the absent Carl Brenell. Further along the corridor he found another door and, on opening it, found another man in bed. He went in and held the lamp high. The man was in his fifties and hadn't shaved for a week. McAllister tapped on the nose with the muzzle of the Remington and he woke. He was startled down to his toenails and showed it. He was wide awake in a second flat and his frightened eyes were wide. He wouldn't give any trouble.

‘Who're you?'

‘Ch-Charlie B-Bright.'

‘What do you do around here?'

‘Cook.'

‘Get up, cook. I'm McAllister.'

‘Mc-McAllister!'

He climbed out of bed and showed that he was wearing filthy and worn longjohns. His teeth were chattering and he shook. McAllister felt a bit sorry for him.

‘Charlie,' he said, ‘you be a good boy an' you won't get hurt.' He put the lamp down and took a peggin string from his pocket. ‘Turn around.' The man turned around. McAllister slipped the Remington away and quickly bound his hands behind his back. ‘You yell an' you won't yell no more, hear?' The man showed that he heard perfectly. ‘Now walk into Clem's room.'

The man turned and walked to Clem's room as ordered. As they went in, Clem sat up in bed and stared at them sleepily. He saw McAllister right off and plunged a hand beneath his pillow.

‘Touch that gun an' I'll blow your fool head off, Clem,' McAllister told him. The man froze and brought his right hand into sight.

‘What do you want?' he demanded, and had enough sense to be scared.

‘You. Get out here and put some duds on.'

‘I'm wounded,' Clem said: ‘I can't stand.'

‘Clem, you get outa that bed real smart, now.'

The man thought about that and decided that the pain of standing was less unpleasant than the chance of being shot. He threw his legs over the side of the bed. McAllister put the lamp down and threw him his clothes.

‘Hurry it up now. I don't have all night.'

‘What're you goin' to do with me?'

‘Kill you if you start foolin' around. Do as I say an' you'll git back to your daddy safe an' sound. Eventually.'

Clem stood up shakily and started dragging on his clothes. McAllister saw that his thigh was heavily bandaged. When he was dressed, McAllister said: ‘Get downstairs.'

‘It'll kill me.'

‘I'll risk it.'

The man shuffled ahead. McAllister didn't like that much. It would mean the cook would get between him and his chief prisoner. He prodded the cook ahead with his gun and the man led the way downstairs. In the hall, McAllister called softly: ‘Billy,' and the man came. ‘Git this feller on your back an' tote him outa here.' Billy looked as if he didn't like the sound of that much, but he complied. They got Clem up on his back and trooped through the house, through the kitchen and out among the hogs. McAllister let them walk for five minutes when he said: ‘Billy, let the cook carry him a while.' They loaded Clem onto the back of the cook and Clem said: ‘Pa'll kill you for this.'

McAllister said: ‘I dare say.'

They went on till they reached the horses and McAllister told Billy: ‘I'm goin' back. Keep your gun on these two and shoot ‘em if they look at you wrong. Be ready to move—I'm liable to come back here on the run. I'll try an' bring a horse for Clem.'

‘I can't ride,' Clem said.

‘You'd be surprised what you can do when a gun says do it,' McAllister told him. He went to the canelo, unstaked it and stepped into the saddle. He walked the horse to the rear of the house and tied it. The placed seemed quiet. He took his rope from the saddle and walked around the house to the corral. There were about thirty horses there in the moonlight
and as soon as he went through the fence they started bunching and shifting. He knew that it would not be long before somebody heard them and came out of the bunkhouse to see what was going on. So he didn't pick and choose, but dropped his loop on the nearest. This was a small sorrel and it settled down as soon as the rope touched it. He didn't waste any time, but headed for the gate. Knocking the bars loose, he led the horse through. He was pretty tense now because he was near the bunkhouse and this was the most dangerous moment.

He was walking the sorrel along the outside of the fence back toward the house when he heard a call behind him.

‘Who's this?'

‘Charlie,' he called back gruffly.

‘Charlie? Charlie who?'

McAllister vaulted onto the back of the horse and it started pitching. He cursed it savagely and the man who had challenged him shouted. McAllister kicked the horse in the slats and got a firm grip on its mane. It tried to crush his leg against the fence of the corral.

There came the loud report of a gun and lead sang close above his head.

Something a little like panic touched McAllister. He yelled to the horse and kicked it again. It jumped forward, turned and pitched across the yard. The gun went off again. There were shouts. Then suddenly, the horse decided he couldn't dislodge the rider and started forward like a sensible horse should. There came the pounding of feet as men ran. Another gun went off. McAllister wrenched the sorrel's head around and they scampered around the west side of the house. He heard a bullet strike a window and shatter it, then he was momentarily out of their sight, circling the house and reaching the canelo. He was sweating profusely now. He knew he had to move to save his own skin and there would be no chance of burning Brenell out. Pity. He transferred himself to the canelo and headed out of there on the run scattering indignant hogs to right and left. As he headed up the incline, men came around to the rear of the house and banged away at him to no effect. But he reached Billy and the two prisoners in a lather.