Broken Star (2006) (2 page)

Either choice would be the wrong one, Vejar accepted unhappily. It seemed to him that by walking just one hundred yards from the Banner
Hotel he had come to another world, a world considerably less secure than the one he had just left.

He kept his horse climbing, reining into the shadows of some pines from where he saw the last ray of sunlight snatched over the horizon. The sun had gone and long shafts of sullen light poured through the still silhouettes of distant ranches and rolling hills. Immediately below him, ghostly in a low-lying mist, was the town of Yancey. Stopping his horse, Fallon Vejar sat unmoving in the saddle, looking down,
wondering
why a homecoming should touch a man’s spine with an icy finger. He was gripped in a state of indecision by the realization that it would be easier to ride off over and beyond the distant hills than it would be to cover the last quarter of a mile into town.

Raya’s soft voice came out of the darkness, playing back to him the words she had spoken so pensively two long years ago. ‘I don’t want you to leave, of course, Fallon. But you must go for your
own safety. Whether you come back one day, or send for me to join you, I will be waiting. If needs be I will wait forever.’

Vejar had not sent for her, neither had he come back. Until now. But it wasn’t as a hero, the town’s favourite son returning after having atoned for the sins that he was believed to have committed; the reputation he had gained since riding away from Yancey had, now, probably alienated those in the town who once
considered
that he had been done an injustice.

Yet he could not abandon the good folk who were once his friends to the merciless Klugg gang. But by going against Ken Klugg he would be putting Gloria at risk, and that thought tormented him. Even so, he rediscovered the resolve that had ebbed in him since leaving Del Corsia. Letting out a long, slow breath, as if a tightly coiled spring inside him had relaxed a bit, Vejar started his horse down the slope to enter the east end of Yancey.

The lights of the Hero of Alamo saloon parted a thickening dusk to become a guiding beacon. He passed what was Ma Cousins’ boarding-house when he had left town, but was now dilapidated. The windows were no longer glazed. They were the unseeing eyes of the past.

Dismounting and hitching his horse at the rail, he hesitated for a brief moment outside the
door of the saloon before going in. Yancey’s largest saloon afforded every facility for fools, young and old, to part with their money. It was busy now with groups of noisy cowboys starting out on an evening of dissipation. The far end of the long room was dotted with round tables at which sat gamblers and solid businessmen. Circling among them were gaily plumaged ladies wearing expensive dresses and jewels that
glittered
in the artificial lighting whenever they moved. They were rich in material possessions but poor in chastity. The town had thrived and expanded fast in Vejar’s absence.

The heads of people he had once known turned to see who had entered. If they
remembered
him, then they were careful not to show it before looking away. At the bar, he ordered whiskey from a bartender who was a stranger to him. A pretty girl clad in insufficient clothing, thin and broken shoes, and a faded shawl, came up to lean nonchalantly against the bar at his side. A scarlet, practised smile was draped across her face. Aged no more than seventeen, the girl deftly rolled a cigarette while awaiting a response from him.

Ignoring the girl, Vejar put one foot on the brass rail as he used the huge mirror behind the bar to study the seated drinkers in the bar. Mentally putting names to faces that seemed
farther distant than two years, he tensed ready for action when a figure came up close behind him. At the same time a sudden fear had the girl at his side move quickly away.

Then Vejar relaxed on recognizing his old friend George Harker. Though a hard man, the sophisticated Harker had impeccable poise that put him on terms of intimacy with top people in all quarters of Yancey. With a lithe and gracefully formed physique, he was resplendent in an
olive-green
jacket and darker green cravat
complementing
a high-collared shirt. Incredibly
handsome
despite many a bruising fight in his wild days, he smiled a welcome at Vejar.

‘George,’ Vejar said, making a quarter turn, one elbow remaining on the bar as he pointed with the forefinger of his other hand at the silver star pinned to his friend’s chest. ‘I heard that they made you sheriff.’

‘I’ve been hearing about you, too, Fallon,’ Harker replied meaningfully. ‘The price on your head goes up every month.’

‘You figuring on collecting the reward, George?’

Harker shook his head. For all his impressive fighting record, he was a placid man unless he was roused, and he didn’t rouse easily. ‘Nope. We have been buddies too long for me to even consider it, Fallon. I’m not looking for extra
bother. It takes me all my time to keep a grip on this town.’

‘Yancey sure has grown up since I rode out, George,’ Vejar remarked, looking around at the bustling saloon trade. He wanted to ask about Raya, but first needed to discover how the town might react to his return.

‘Some things haven’t changed,’ the sheriff told him in a cautionary tone. He used a nod of his head to indicate a vacant chair backed against a wall. ‘When you came in, Jack Smiley was sitting right there.’

‘So?’ Vejar questioned with a shrug of
indifference
. A former grub-line rider, Smiley did menial work for the Poole brothers.

‘He isn’t there now,’ Harker replied pointedly.

‘You’re saying that he’s riding out to tell the Poole brothers that I’m back in town, George?’

‘I’d wager my tin badge on it.’

‘But I killed Billy Poole in a fair fight,’ Vejar protested.

‘I believe you,’ Harker confirmed, nodding gravely, ‘but the Pooles don’t, and you don’t have one witness. Lew, Michael and Ben aren’t the forgetting and forgiving kind, Fallon.’

‘Are you telling me to get out of town before the Pooles come riding in, hell-bent on making trouble, George?’

‘Unless I’m greatly mistaken, that is what will
happen, Fallon,’ Harker answered cautiously. ‘The Poole brothers own the biggest ranch in the territory. They have a lot of power
hereabouts
, and nobody’s going to complain if they gun you down.’

‘Let them try, George,’ Vejar said. ‘I’ll be ready for them.’

Keeping his glistening black eyes on Vejar, Harker explained in a flat tone, ‘I know that, Fallon. But let me tell you how it is. I’m proud to be wearing this star, and I won’t betray the people who placed trust in me by making me sheriff. If you being back here means there’ll be gunplay, then I have to warn that I won’t treat you any different than anyone else.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to, George,’ Vejar conceded. ‘But giving the Pooles a chance to settle an old score isn’t what brought me back here.’ He accepted a cigar and a light from Harker before going on. ‘Yancey is a right
prosperous
town now, and that hasn’t gone
unnoticed
.’

Harker’s face became cold and calculating. His teeth clamped hard on the lighted cigar they were holding. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying,
compadre
?’

Vejar nodded.

‘The bank, Fallon?’

Again Vejar nodded.

‘Come on,’ an interested Harker said,
beckoning
one of the bartenders. ‘I’ll get us a bottle and we’ll find a table.’

When they were seated and Harker was
pouring
each of them a drink, Vejar remarked, ‘I intended to book in at Ma Cousins’ place, George, but I see that it’s just a ruin now.’

Harker nodded. ‘Ma caught some kind of fever a year or so ago, and died real fast. But you can bed down in a cell at the jailhouse. That’s no problem, Fallon.’

‘You’re a true buddy, George,’ Vejar said,
raising
his glass, ‘and I’ll drink to that.’

With his glass still on the table, Harker advised, ‘Hold on there for a minute before you raise your glass to me, Fallon. Just so’s there won’t be any misunderstanding between us later, I should tell you that me and Raya are together now.’

Harker’s words made Vejar reel inwardly in shock. Though his resolve to warn the sheriff about the Klugg gang had just taken a
battering
, loyalty to an old friend would ensure that he did so. Yet what modicum of pleasure he had felt at coming home had died a sudden and painful death. He eyed the sheriff silently and coldly as he raised his glass to his lips, still unspeaking.

‘You certain sure that it’s Vejar you saw?’ Lew Poole asked.

Lew, the eldest of the three surviving Poole brothers, was a stocky, muscular man standing five feet six inches in height, with a rugged
countenance
that reflected his callous disposition. A man with a cruel and cunning nature, Lew Poole was not nearly as tough as his reputation proclaimed. But Jack Smiley was not the stuff of which heroes are made, and he cringed when questioned by Lew.

‘It was him, Lew,’ Smiley whined. ‘It was Fallon Vejar, sure as shootin’.’

‘What’s this about Vejar?’

Having just come into the Twin Circle ranch house, Michael Poole dismissed Smiley with a contemptuous glance, and snapped the question at his brother.

‘Vejar’s back in town. Sitting drinking in The Hero,’ Lew answered.

‘He won’t be sitting there for much longer.’ A thin man with the sly face of a coyote, complete with slanted eyes in which cunning gleamed bright, Michael unbuttoned his coat, took it off and threw it on to a chair. ‘Young Billy will never be at rest until we deal with the man who murdered him in cold blood.’

‘Steady now, Michael,’ Lew warned, as he saw the conflict in his brother’s face, the sudden
flare of his focused eyes, the tightening jaw muscles that widened his mouth. ‘I’m as riled as you that this varmint’s come back, but it ain’t wise to go riding off into town half-cocked.’

‘There’s only one of Vejar, and there’s three of us, Lew.’

‘Four,’ Jack Smiley said, tentatively.

With a flick of his thumb, Lew Poole sent a coin spinning through the air and Smiley deftly caught it.

‘Get out of here, Smiley,’ Lew ordered brusquely. As Smiley obeyed, Lew turned to Michael. ‘Where’s Brother Ben?’

‘He’s got some of the hands fixing that broken rail down at the corral.’

‘Go get him,’ Lew said. ‘The three of us need to discuss this. We got to do something real quick about Vejar, but we got to let George Harker see us do it right, Michael.’

An excellent choir was singing a hymn when Mary Alcott reached the lower end of Yancey’s main street. The sound seemed to escape from the church to float through the air unattached and eerie. Mary hesitated outside, reluctant to enter and impart news that she knew would upset her dearest friend. Plucking up courage, she reached for the door handle. The latch made an unexpectedly loud clank as Mary lifted
it, making her both embarrassed and
uncomfortable
. But the singing continued
uninterrupted
as she tiptoed inside and noiselessly closed the door.

Reverend Thomas Hailey, a small man with an abundance of grey hair, conducted a choir made up of young women. With a pulpit for a rostrum, the choirmaster’s head jerked this way and that, pausing in a listening position occasionally, first to the left and then to the right, then nodding contentedly. Then the combined voices faded into a pregnant silence that was invaded by a solo female voice. Both hands raised, head thrown back, the Reverend Halley coaxed out a truly wonderful voice that sang ‘Jerusalem.’

The singer was Raya Kennedy, Mary’s best friend. Angelic in the church setting, Raya had long, straight golden hair framing a schoolgirl’s face that had a look of sadness. Her slender build added to the pre-puberty illusion. Forgetting her mission for a moment, Mary stood quietly, enthralled by the beauty of the voice that fully complemented the inspiring hymn. When the singing ended, Raya’s exquisite voice seemed to live on as a pleasing echo.

With difficulty, Mary brought herself back to the task that had brought her to the church. She hurried up the aisle to a surprised Raya.

‘Mary, what brings you here?’ Raya enquired,
curiosity creasing her brow.

Up closer, the illusion of a slim, honey-haired child faded. Raya the girl-child looked older and tireder. Orphaned at the age of five, she had lived a harsh life until Mary had befriended her. Now living with Mary and her parents, she had become part of the family. Raya was also a
partner
with Mary in a small dressmaking business. Yet she hadn’t shed the sensitive skin of
someone
who has experienced how cruel and
heartless
people could be.

‘Can we talk for a moment, Raya?’ Mary asked, more a ploy to broach a difficult subject than it was a question.

‘Of course.’

As the choir began rehearsing another hymn, Raya led the way to an alcove. When she turned with her back to the wall she was holding herself tight, stiff. Her grey eyes returned Mary’s gaze anxiously. Like all those who had suffered badly in life, Raya lived in constant expectation of more hard knocks.

‘What is it, Mary? What’s happened?’

Taking hold of both of her friend’s hands. Mary spoke gently. ‘I thought that I ought to tell you, Raya. Fallon Vejar is back in town.’

There was a prolonged silence. Then Raya uttered a bemused, ‘Why?’ Aware that the
one-word
question wasn’t directed at her, Mary made
no attempt to reply. The choir was singing ‘Were You There When They Crucified Our Lord’, and Mary had to lean close to catch Raya’s words as she spoke again.

‘This is the last thing I wanted to happen, Mary. It will spoil everything.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Mary tried to assure her. ‘You are with George now. It could be that Fallon is just passing through, and he’ll be gone by morning.’

‘No.’ Raya shook her head almost violently. ‘The very fact that Fallon has come back means trouble, Mary.’

That was something that Mary couldn’t argue against, so she remained quiet. She wished that everything could revert to what it had been an hour ago, clean and fresh and eternal. But it couldn’t and it wouldn’t, because Fallon Vejar had ridden back into town.