Buckskin Run (Ss) (1981) (6 page)

"Did you ever kill a man, Jeff ?"

He looked at her quickly. "Why, I reckon I have, ma'am.

I suppose there are a good many of us who have killed a man or two, not that we want to or are looking for it.

These are rough times, ma'am, and a man can't alway s look to the law to defend him. He has to do it himself. Ou t here the law expects a man to do just that."

"How about that day on the trail when Rod Morga n killed Reuben Hart'"

Jeff gave her a sharp look. He knew enough of the gossip to know Lorna . H
ad come west to marry Morgan. H
e also knew that now Mark Brewer was riding herd on th e girl. He had his own opinion of Brewer, and it was no t flattering. Jeff Cordell had rustled a few head here an d there, and occasionally stood a stage on its ear for drinkin g money, but he had a wholesome respect for a decen t woman.

"Ma'am, there's some would have my hide for sayin g this, but you asked an honest question, and you'll get a n honest answer. If Rod Morgan had been a mite slower t o shoot that day, he would have been killed. Reuben Har t was sent out there to kill him."

"Sent? By whom?"

Jeff Cordell had talked all he planned to. He was turning to leave when the door opened and a big man wit h white hair came into the room. He glanced at Jeff an d then at her.

Somebody has been doin' Childs' killin' for him, and I k now he wants Shipton dead, so who does he send for?

Mark Brewer!"

"Oh, no! You must be mistaken!" Even as she said it sh e remembered the gun. "Mr. Blue, I do know this, when h e told Rod that he didn't carry a gun, he lied. He wears on e in a shoulder holster."

Blue was pleased. "Now, then, ma'am, that's the bes t news you've given me so far. That little item might sav e my life or Rod's."

"Why should Mr. Childs want Josh Shipton killed ?"

Jed Blue hesitated. "There's the question behind thi s whole affair. Only two men know what happened in Buckskin Run when that gold vanished. One of them wa s Henry Childs; the other one is Josh Shipton."

He smiled widely. "Trouble is, for them at least, that a third one has figured it out, and I'm the third.

"Ma'am, you go back and tell them you met a man o n the road, and don't describe me, who told you to tell the m that Tarran Kop ?
is back.

She was seated in the small sitting room at the boardin g house when Mark Brewer came in. Before she could spea k he went on u ?
to his room, and when he returned he wa s dressed for the trail. He walked over and sat down besid e her.

"I hear you met Henry Childs. Quite a fellow, isn't he?"

"He's big," she admitted, "and a fine-looking man."

Then, giving her face a puzzled expression, she asked , "Mark, who is Tarran Kopp?"

If she had expected a reaction she was not disappointed.

He started as if stung, grabbing her wrist in a grip tha t hurt. -Who' Where did you hear that name?"

"Please don't! You're hurting me!" She rubbed her wris t as he released it. "Why, it was nothing at all!" She spok e carelessly. "I get so restless here, so I took a walk over b y that old mill, it is so quiet and peaceful there, and I met a man. He was very polite.

"Actually, he was just watering his horse there at th e millpond, and he asked me if I wasn't living at Em Shipton's.

I told him I was, and he asked me to tell Henry Child s that Tarran Kop ?
was back."

Mark Brewer got to his feet. "He said Kop ?
was back?

What did he look like?"

"Oh, he was just a man. As tall as you, 1 think, bu t spare. He was riding a black horse." The horse Jed Blu e had been riding was a blue roan.

'This changes everything," Brewer muttered, talkin g more to himself than her.

"Who is Tarran Kopp? What is he?"

"Oh, he was just an outlaw who was active out her e fifteen or twenty years ago. It's believed he was the on e who robbed those wagons you've heard about."

He 'turned toward the door. "Look, if Childs comes in, tell him what you just told me, will you? An d tell him I need to see him."

Before noon, Rod Morgan reached the basin. After lyin g among the rocks for about twenty minutes while studyin g the terrain to be sure he was unobserved, he went dow n to the edge of the pool and, putting his rifle down besid e him, he began to cast with the heavy iron hook. He woul d cast the hook as far out as possible, let it sink to th e bottom, and slowly drag it back to him.

He worked steadily, tirelessly, taking occasional breaks to study the country around. He was well into his thir d hour, without finding anything but broken branches o r moss, when the hook snagged on something. Twice it sli d off before it held, and then hand over hand he drew in hi s catch.

A wagon tire!

An iron wagon tire, showing evidence of having bee n subjected to heat. So then, they must have burned th e wagons, thrown the metal parts into the pool, and...
w hat about the gold ?

He was. squatting beside the wagon tire when he hear d the sharp, ugly bark of a rifle.

He hit the ground in a dive from his squat, grabbed hi s rifle, and rolled over behind a rock. He was lying, waitin g for another shot, when he realized the hu1let had com e nowhere near him.

Starting to lift his head he heard two more shots, quick , sharp, fired only a breath apart.

Stones rattled, a larger one plopped into the basin, an d then Bod caught a fleeting glimpse of a man's body falling.

There was a terrific splash, and the body sank from sight.

Peering up, he saw a shadowy outline, a man's figure, atop the cliff; peering down. Then the shadow disappeare d and, jerking off his boots and gunbelt, Morgan went int o the water. Its icy chill wrenched a gas ?
from his throat , and then he saw the body, only it was not merely a bod y hut a man, still struggling to live.

Diving low, he slipped an arm around the man's bod y and struck out for the surface. It was a struggle to get hi m to the surface and out upon the shore, and the man wa s bleeding badly.

It was Josh Shipton, and one look at the wound in hi s side and Rod knew there was no chance.

Shipton's lids fluttere
d . "B -- Brew -- Brewer dry-gul -- dry-g ulched me. ' He waved a feeble arm. "Childs -- gold --Childs." He seemed to be trying to point toward th e graves; or was it only one grave?

Brewer had killed him, but what had he been trying t o say? At what had he pointed'? Or was it only a wild gestur e from a dying man ?

Horse's hoofs pounded on the sod, a racing horse. Ro d wheeled, rifle ready. It was Jed Blue.

"You all right? I heard shots." Then he saw Shipton.

Aha So Brewer got him."

"How did you know that
?"

Blue explained what Lorna had told him, and what sh e overheard. He also added the bit about Mark Brewer'
s shoulder holster.

"What made Childs so afraid of Shipton?"

"They were afraid of what he knew. Shipton knew al l three of the men buried there, and if he saw Henry Child s he would smell a rat, and rat is right."

"What do you mean?"

Shipton was trying to point at one of the graves. Th e grave of Harry Kidd."

"Kidd? Childs? Are you telling me Kidd didn't die ?

That there's nobody in that grave ?"

"Kidd murdered the other two, cached the gold, marke d the graves so people would grow superstitious about them , then left the country. Coming back later, he started a ranch and helped spread the stories about the ghosts o f Buckskin Run."

"Smart," Rod admitted.

"Except for one thing. He accused the wrong man o f the murders. He spread the story around that the thre e had been killed and the gold stolen by Tarran Kopp.

"Kop
?
killed a few men here and there, but all in fair fights. He never murdered a man in his life, and that stor y made him mad. 1 know, because I am Tarran Kopp."

From far down the canyon they heard a thunder o f racing hoofs, a wild cry, and then a shot. Both me n turned, rifles lifting.

A small black horse was coming toward them on a dea d run, and they could see a girl's long hair streaming in th e wind. Behind her, still some distance away, a tight grou p of racing horsemen.

It s Lorna!" Rod said. "And the Block C riders!"

Dropping to one knee, he opened u ?
with his Winchester. A rider threw u ?
his arms and dropped from his horse, and the group split, scattering out across the smal l plain.

The black horse swung in toward their position and wa s reined in. Lorna slid from the horse's back into Rod'
s arms. The black horse wheeled and raced off a few yards , tossing its head with excitement.

"Never figured on making a stand here," Rod said.

"Jed? Have you got enough ammunition'"

"Plenty. How about you
?"

-The same... there s one behind that spruce!

He fired as he spoke and the man cried out, staggerin g into the open where a bullet from Jed put him down.

Bullets spattered on the rocks around them, but thei r position in the small basin around the pool was excellent.

A man could stand erect alongside the pool and still b e under cover. A ring of boulders almost surrounded th e pool, and a stream of them fanned out downslope fro m them where the attackers were.

Rod turned to Lorna. "Can you fire a rifle?"

"Just give me a chance! My father taught me to shoo t when I was a little girl. Only, I -- I never shot a man."

"You won't get much chance here. Those boys are prett y well snuckered down now, and they aren't about to ge t themselves killed. Just fire a shot in that general directio n once in awhile.

"Jed, I'm going to circle around and try to get whoeve r is leading this bunch. My guess is it will be Brewer."

"Or Childs. Don't forget him."

Rod slid back to lower ground, wormed his way throug h some brush, and descended into a small wash. All of thi s was on land he claimed, and over which he had ridde n many times. He knew every inch of it.

There had been no more than eight or ten men in th e original group, and at least two were out of action. Unles s he was mistaken, the Block C boys had enough. Thei r loyalty was largely money loyalty, and nobody wants to di e for a dollar, at least nobody in his right mind.

He moved swiftly and silently along the sandy bottom , his boots making no sound in the soft sand. He wa s rounding a boulder when he heard a voice. It was Mar k Brewer.

"Think we've got 'em, Henry's"

"Got 'em' Oh, sure! We'll finish them off, send the boy s home, and dig u ?
that gold. It's high time we dug it up.

Something always kept me from going after it before.

Price on gold has gone up, so we'll have more money , Mark."

You mean," Brewer's voice was so low Rod could scarcel y hear', "I'll have more!"

Through an opening in the rocks, Rod could see the m now. He saw the surprise and shock on Childs's face tur n to horror as Brewer drew a gun on him.

"Very simple, Henry. I've been waiting for this chance.

I'll have it all for myself, and everybody will blame Morgan and Kop ?
for killing you."

Childs's hand went to his holster, but it was empty.

"Don't bother, Henry. I'm making it easy for you. I lifte d your gun then waited until your rifle was empty. Now I'l l kill you, let the boys finish off' Morgan and Kopp, and I'll g et the gold."

The two men faced each other across ten feet of gree n grass, cut off from view of the Block C riders by trees an d boulders and over fifty yards of distance.

Childs's small mouth tightened until it was scarcely visible. He was sullen and wary. "Well," he said casually, "I g uess I've had it coming. I murdered good men for tha t gold and never got' a penny's worth of it. Now you'l l murder me. Of course, we're going out together."

His hand flashed in movement, and Mark Brewer's .44
r oared. Childs swayed like a tree in the wind but kept hi s feet. In the palm of his hand was a small derringer. H
e fired, and then again.

Brewer's gun was roaring, but his last bullets wer e kicking u ?
sand at Childs's feet. He went to his knees, the n down to his face. in the bloody sand.

Childs said, I had a hide-out gun, too, Mark. I was hal f expect --"

He put out a hand for support that was not there. The n he fell, sprawling on the grass. Bod hurried to him.

His eves flared open. "You got a mighty pretty gir l there, son," he said. The two-barreled derringer slippe d from his fingers and he was dead. Rod stood for a moment , staring down at him.

Without the stolen money the man heal done well. H
e had built a ranch, fine herds of cattle, earned the respec t of his community, and all for nothing. The old murders ha d ridden him to his death.