Broken Star (2006) (4 page)

As Vejar stepped forwards, his powerful physique, though much lighter than Poole’s, was enhanced by gracefulness. A murmur rippled through the crowd, for there was a majesty about the two men. There was a primitive glory in a
scene that had fearless gladiators facing each other, ready for combat.

Ben Poole was known as a hardhitter and, when the fight began, Vejar sparred on the defensive as his giant opponent circled him looking for an opportunity to close. Aware that he could not match Poole in strength, Vejar knew that he must use cunning to gain an
advantage
. Deliberately creating a false opening, he was gratified when the gullible Poole rushed in. Relying on his speed, Vejar moved fast, extremely fast. As Poole surged forwards on the attack, he agilely ducked, took a short side step and did a violent half turn to drive his elbow hard into Poole’s midriff.

Feeling ribs crack as his elbow drove in, Vejar turned as Poole’s breath escaped from him in an angry, hissing eruption. Turning to face Poole again, who was slightly bent forward, holding his ribs and stomach with both hands, Vejar
delivered
a rapid series of fast punches to Poole’s big face; left and right, left and right. His knuckles ripped open a long gash in Poole’s cheek. A power-packed blow from Vejar’s right hand completely split open Poole’s top lip right up to the nostril. Shaking his huge head, causing the two halves of his cut lip to flap and spray blood in all directions, Ben Poole brought up both hands to protect his terribly damaged face.
Without a pause, Vejar changed tactics to launch a two-fisted attack on Poole’s body. Groaning in pain, the huge man brought his arms down again to defend his body. As Poole’s left arm came down, Vejar crossed it with a right-hand punch that landed on his adversary’s prominent brow, opening up a red, blood-gushing gash over the left eye.

Poole took several steps backwards, and only colliding with the bar kept him upright. Some of the crowd, courageous at seeing the dangerous bully reeling all but helpless, started to cheer Vejar on as he stepped up to knock Poole’s head to the right with one punch, then knock it to the left with a blow from his other hand. Concentrating on ending the fight by completely demolishing his huge opponent, Vejar was oblivious to a sudden silence that descended on the crowd. Consequently, he didn’t know that Ben Poole’s two brothers had just entered the saloon.

Something smashed against the back of his head, and the next he knew was that he was lying on the floor. Lew Poole was standing on one side of him and Michael Poole on the other. Both brothers were delivering vicious kicks to his head and body.

The knowledge that he was about to be kicked to death galvanized the groggy Vejar into action.
Using his left elbow to gain leverage, he rolled swiftly to his right, grabbing Lew Poole’s right ankle with both hands as he went. A tug from Vejar unbalanced Lew Poole, who staggered awkwardly but didn’t go down. But the diversion permitted Vejar to keep rolling and come up shakily on to his feet.

Michael Poole was on him in a flash. The tall, lean Poole brother let go with a punch that caught Vejar flush on his left eye. The force of the punch sent Vejar flying backwards, he hit a table, overturning it as he crashed to the wooden floor. Coming up fast, he saw Michael Poole moving in on him, throwing another mighty punch. Vejar hoisted the table by its legs. Unable to stop the punch he was throwing, the tall Poole brother yelled out in pain as his fist crashed into the tabletop, crunching the bones of his hand.

With his left eye rapidly closing, Vejar lunged at Michael Poole, who was holding his damaged hand, his face twisted in agony. He was unable to defend himself, and Vejar felled him with a terrific right-hand punch.

Out of the fight completely, Michael Poole lay unconscious on the floor. But his brother Lew came up on Vejar’s blind side, using a bottle to club him to the floor. Fighting to remain conscious, Vejar scrambled away from
the kicks Lew Poole was aiming at him. He rose up, ready to deal with Lew, but Ben Poole, his face a bloody pulp, came up behind Vejar to catch him in a bear hug, pinioning his arms to his sides.

Grinning happily, Lew Poole stepped forward to smash punch after punch at the helpless Vejar. With blood from cuts inflicted by the punches completing his blindness, Vejar slumped and would have fallen if Ben Poole hadn’t been holding him.

Exhausted by the non-stop battering he was giving Vejar, Lew Poole stopped and nodded to his brother, who let Vejar drop to the floor. Peering up one-eyed through a veil of blood, Vejar saw Ben Poole drawing his gun, aiming it at him.

‘You lived like a dog, Vejar,’ Lew Poole snarled. ‘Now you can die like a dog.’

Cursing his stupidity in taking off his gunbelt in the first place, Vejar was watching Poole squeeze the trigger, when a shot rang out. Staggering sideways, Lew Poole dropped his gun and clapped his hand to his neck. A bullet had grazed him, drawing blood but otherwise
causing
no real injury.

Unable to believe his luck, Vejar saw a smile tweak at the corners of Dan Matthews’ mouth. Then George Harker was reaching down to put
a hand in Vejar’s armpit and pull him to his feet.

‘I guess that you’ll have company in the
jailhouse
tonight, Fallon,’ the sheriff quipped.

‘So you’ve heard of George Harker, Ken?’

Gloria Malone asked the question as she sat in brilliant noon sunshine, cleaning and oiling her handgun. The gang had taken over an
abandoned
line shack in the foothills some thirty miles from Yancey. The shack stood on a grassy rise, alone and as desolate as a desert island. When she had told Klugg the name of Yancey’s sheriff, Gloria had noticed that the outlaw had shown not fear, which would have been out of character, but a certain apprehension that intrigued her. This Harker had to be some
hombre
to make Ken Klugg react in that way.

Not answering until his daily period of
quick-draw
practice had been completed, Ken Klugg holstered his .45 and walked over to sit beside her on the grass close to one side of the shack.

‘You must be the only one who’s never heard of Harker, Gloria,’ he remarked.

‘He’s that good?’

‘Better than good, much better.’

‘How does that affect our plan for Yancey?’ Gloria enquired.

She waited for a reply that she suspected would never come. Klugg had become unfriendly towards her in their present situation. She missed Fallon Vejar terribly. Since Vejar had left, Klugg had been trying to get closer to her. Having repelled him every time he made a move, she knew that he had grown increasingly angry at being rejected. She guessed it would have resulted in a showdown between them before now, except for the fact she had filled Vejar’s position as the most valuable member of the gang. Klugg just couldn’t afford to lose her. The other four, though competent with firearms and not lacking in courage, were incapable of performing without supervision. Maybe that wasn’t true of Richie Deere, the youngest of them, a kid who had become Vejar’s protégé, and who had been morose from the moment Vejar, his friend and idol, had ridden out.

‘The only difference it makes,’ Klugg said, surprising her by replying to her query, ‘is that we take Sheriff Harker out before we hit the bank. The kid can take care of Harker.’

Gloria was startled then, as Klugg turned his upper body, drawing his gun as he did so. In the
stillness the sound when he fired the
peacemaker
was ear-splitting. Klugg had returned his gun to its holster in a fluid movement when Gloria turned her head to look over her
shoulder
. A gopher that had been innocently
sneaking
past some yards behind them, was now
splattered
bloodily over the grass, completely
shattered
by Klugg’s bullet. Impressed by Klugg’s speed, Gloria was astounded by the fact that in a split second he had either heard or sensed the small creature behind him, and had known its exact position. It was a frightening reminder of what a dangerous man Ken Klugg was.

‘Just keeping the eye and the hand in,’ he smilingly explained, patting his holstered gun.

Worried by the thought of Richie Deere, a complex but nevertheless likeable kid, going up against a sheriff renowned for his fast draw, Gloria said, ‘Obviously you could face this George Harker, Ken, but surely young Richie isn’t up to it?’

‘Face Harker?’ Klugg chuckled. ‘I’m not going to ask the kid to
face
the sheriff, Gloria. I can’t risk losing Deere before hitting the bank.’

Getting the message, that Richie would simply wait in the shadows to dry gulch the sheriff, Gloria said, ‘That’s a relief. Yancey is a lively place, Ken, and it will take all of us to pull off the raid.’

‘That’s why I need to know more about the place before I send the kid to get Harker.’

‘Sounds to me that I’ll soon be riding back into Yancey all on my lonesome,’ Gloria commented drily.

Taking Gloria’s sketch of the layout of Yancey’s bank from his pocket, Klugg studied it before saying, ‘You did fine with this, Gloria, and meeting the sheriff’s girl sure was lucky. Go back to Yancey and make some excuse to see that girl. Find out from her how many deputies Harker can call on, and if Vejar will be backing the
sheriff
.’

‘I’ll ride out at first light,’ Gloria told him, but Klugg shook his head.

‘You’ll leave for Yancey right now,’ he ordered. ‘If Vejar’s warned the town that we’re coming, then we have to hit them before they can organize a defence. You ride out now, and be back here before sundown tomorrow with a full report.’

Stretched out on a cot in the cell that had become his home, a cut and bruised Vejar winced as Raya gently bathed his battered face. As George Harker had stayed with them since he’d brought her in to tend his wounds, Vejar and Raya had had little chance of any real conversation. The reunion between him and the
girl had been a non-event, with Raya
embarrassed
and strangely detached. Every word that they spoke to each other was self-censored due to Harker being present. If the sheriff sensed the strange atmosphere, he certainly didn’t show it.

The three of them were the sole occupants of the jailhouse. Not wanting to tie himself down with prisoners at such a time, Harker had not arrested the Poole brothers. After helping the badly beaten Vejar from the saloon to the
jailhouse
the previous night, a disappointed George Harker reported that the Lazy J ranch was busy with a roundup ready for a trail drive, and the owner could spare him only six men.

‘That’s not enough, George,’ Vejar had warned.

‘It’s all I’ve got,’ the sheriff had replied resignedly. ‘There would be no problem if you were with me, Fallon.’

‘That’s not possible, George. I’ll stick around long enough to see you set up right to take care of Klugg, then I’ll be riding out.’

‘The way you spoke had me real certain that you owed Klugg no loyalty.’

‘I don’t,’ had been Vejar’s response. He saw no reason to explain that he couldn’t draw his gun against Gloria Malone or against Richie Deere, a hero-worshipping kid who had become his friend.

The sheriff brought up the subject of Gloria now, as Raya’s first aid came to an end. Holding the bowl of water in which Raya had constantly rinsed the cloth she was using, he said, ‘I reckon as how you were mistaken about that woman, Fallon. Hiram says some woman did open an account yesterday, but her name was Carmel Morrow.’

‘That’s right,’ Raya agreed. ‘I met her
yesterday
. Carmel and her brother are looking to buy a place around here. She seems a very nice person.’

‘I’m sure that the woman I saw coming out of the bank was Gloria Malone,’ Vejar protested.

‘It couldn’t have been her, Fallon.’ Harker was adamant. ‘Hiram required certain
documentation
before he would agree to opening an account, and the paperwork produced by the woman was in the names of her and her brother, Carmel and Alan Morrow.’

‘That’s the way Klugg works,’ Vejar sighed. ‘He plans every job meticulously. The time Gloria would have spent doing that business in the bank, means she took every detail of the place away with her.’

Packing her utensils into a bag, Raya enquired, ‘Is there something going on that I don’t know about?’

‘Nothing that you need to know, Raya,’
Harker assured her. ‘It’s something Fallon mentioned that I felt that I should keep an eye on.’

Satisfied by this, Raya shyly bade Vejar farewell. Thanking her for tending his injuries, he turned away to avoid seeing her raise up on tiptoe to kiss Harker on the cheek. Closing the door behind her, Harker returned to stand
looking
down at Vejar.

‘In a couple of days you’ll have recovered, be fighting fit,’ the sheriff predicted. ‘You’re sure that you won’t stay in Yancey to help me and my six cowboys fix that band of outlaws real good?’

Causing himself pain by shaking his head, Vejar said, ‘Sorry,
amigo
, That’s something I just can’t do.’

It was late afternoon and the sun had lost its ferocity as Raya Kennedy made her way home from the jailhouse. Welcoming the new
coolness
, breathing fresh air deeply, she was paying little attention to her surroundings until her name was called.

‘Raya! We meet again.’

Smiling delightedly, Carmel Morrow had opened the door of Wu Chua’s staid little teahouse from the inside and was standing in the doorway.

‘Carmel, it’s good to see you back in town,’
Raya responded, walking towards her recently acquired friend. ‘Have you and your brother found a place?’

‘Not exactly. Let me get you a cup of tea, and I’ll tell you all about it.’

Accepting the invitation, Raya went in and the smiling Chinese proprietor pulled out a chair for her to be seated across a little table from Carmel, It surprised Raya that, up close, Carmel’s beauty was based on the irregularity of her features. She had a high-bridged nose, cheekbones that were too pronounced, a mouth that was exceptionally wide, too long white teeth, and lips that were provocatively but unusually thick. But this was a stunning combination.

‘How are you, Missy Raya?’ the Chinese man enquired.

‘I’m very well, Mr Chua, thank you,’ Raya answered. ‘And how is your good self.’

‘Mighty fine, Missy Raya, mighty fine.’ The Chinaman used an Americanism in reply as he left to fill the new order placed by Carmel.

She smiled across the table at Raya. ‘You are obviously well known and very respected in Yancey.’

‘As I said, Carmel, I have lived here all my life,’

‘Nothing to do with being betrothed to the sheriff?’ Carmel questioned, with a twinkle of amusement in her dark-brown eyes. She was a
fun person. ‘After all, he must be an important person in a thriving town like Yancey.’

This time it was Raya who chuckled. ‘Hardly. Possibly because of George’s reputation, the town has very little crime. He runs things
single-handed
, unless his only deputy, a frail old man, is taken into account.’

‘Nevertheless, he can surely call on volunteers in the unlikely event of something serious happening,’ Carmel suggested.

The naïvety of what Carmel had said brought a sweet smile to Raya’s face. ‘The people of Yancey are business folk, not gunfighters, Carmel. Anyway, nothing that George can’t take care of will ever happen.’

‘Of course not,’ Carmel agreed.

They fell silent for a few moments as Mr Chua returned with a tray and poured tea for them from an intricately decorated teapot. Carmel restarted the conversation by holding her cup ready to clink it against Raya’s, saying ‘Let’s drink to our friendship.’

Giggling, Raya responded with, ‘To a long friendship. Have you found a ranch that you’d like to buy?’

‘There is one place that we are going to look at tomorrow,’ Carmel replied. ‘I’m undecided about it, so I intend to let my brother make the final decision.’

‘Probably wise,’ Raya agreed.

‘We could have settled it today, but Alan is busy with branding the stock at the ranch of a friend we are staying with.’ Carmel explained. ‘My brother puts work above all else, but he has promised to take time off tomorrow so that we can see our prospective new home together.’

There was a pause in their conversation then. Wu Chua, who was clearing cups and saucers from a table close to them, took advantage of it. ‘Excuse me, Missy Raya. I saw you coming from the jail, and wondered if that man was badly hurt in the saloon fight last night?’

‘No, thank the Lord,’ Raya replied. ‘Just some cuts and bruises that I treated as best I could. He’ll soon be up and about again.’

‘I am very glad, Missy Raya,’ the Chinaman said, moving off with a loaded tray.

Curiosity creasing her brow, Carmel asked, ‘Are you a nurse, Raya?’

‘Good heavens, no,’ Raya said, with a
self-conscious
laugh. ‘I’m not capable of something like that. I’m a dressmaker. My friend Mary and I are partners in a little business of our own.’

‘That’s nice,’ Carmel said. ‘You’ll definitely have a new customer once I’ve settled. We haven’t known each other long enough for me to ask a personal question, so forgive me if I am overstepping the mark. Why would a dressmaker
be tending the wounds of a man in jail?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Raya said awkwardly.

‘Then say no more. I had no right to pry, Raya.’

Raya contemplatively studied the pattern on her cup. ‘I don’t mind at all, but it is difficult to explain. You see, Fallon, the man who was hurt, is not in jail. He is a friend of George and myself, who has just come back into town.’

‘A friend who is going to replace the ancient deputy sheriff you told me about?’

‘Oh dear no,’ Raya responded, blushing a deep red. ‘This embarrasses me. You see, this man, Fallon and I were once to have been married. Things went wrong and he left town. The situation is such that he could never work with George.’

‘I can understand why,’ Carmel said. She pouted exaggeratedly, chiding Raya playfully. ‘You are a dark horse, Raya. So much romance in your life.’

‘You must think me awful,’ Raya said, ruefully.

‘Of course not. It’s because you are such a pretty girl,’ Carmel complimented her. ‘Now, I must be on my way, as I want to get back to the ranch before dark.’

‘I’ll see you again?’ Raya queried worriedly.

‘You can count on it, Raya. I’ve got this feeling that we are going to be good friends.’

‘I really do hope so, Carmel.’

‘How many outlaws are there in this gang, George?’ Walter Randall asked.

‘Six including Ken Klugg, the leader,’ the sheriff replied, from where he sat on a sackful of alfalfa.

The impromptu meeting of the town council was being held in the rear room of Randall’s general store. Harker had called the councillors together to tell them of the planned raid on the bank, and to explain how he intended to protect the town.

‘Just one point, George.’ A frowning Hiram Anstey raised a hand to stop the three other councillors, all of whom were trying to speak at once. ‘Am I right in thinking that all the
information
you have about this planned raid on my bank came from Fallon Vejar.’

‘That is correct, Hiram.’

‘Vejar is hardly a model citizen,’ complained Henry Drake, who owned Yancey’s livery stables.