Deadman Canyon (10 page)

V
ANNER
reached a hand around Molly. She licked her lips and bobbed her head, her eyes pleading with Clay.

Vanner said, “You might shoot me, Belden, but that wouldn’t stop me from killing her before I died.”

Clay put his gun in Vanner’s hand and then stepped into the room as Vanner backed Molly out of the doorway. Clay said, “The rest of the town is gathering, Vanner. You haven’t a chance. Get your men and ride out of here while you can.”

“I thought you came to bargain,” Vanner murmured. He smiled his cold smile. “By the time they get together and march to the judge’s house, it will be too late, Belden. There won’t be anything for them to save.”

“There’ll be tomorrow,” Clay said.

“Tomorrow? What good will they be then without leaders? Everyone in this town always looked to your precious Judge Lyles to tell him what to do! Without the judge, they’ll look to someone else. To me!”

“And your men,” Molly cried bitterly. “Those gunhands you brought in here! I should have known what you planned when I saw the first ones.”

“But you were blinded by your pretty dresses and your shiny furniture, weren’t you, my dear?” Vanner said cuttingly. He glanced at Clay. “Yes, me and my men. Don’t you think they’ll make a good police force, Belden?”

Clay put his back to the wall and studied the room. The bodies of Marnie and Pike had been removed from sight. There was nothing to indicate there had ever been a struggle in this room. Clay looked at the neat, well-kept furniture, at the tight, bright dress Molly Doane was wearing.

She met his gaze with hopeless eyes. She reached up automatically to tuck a strand of hair into place. Then her hand fell back to her side. Vanner moved away from her and dropped into a chair where he could keep his gun on her and watch Clay at the same time.

“You might as well relax, Belden. My men know what they’re doing. Your town friends won’t be able to stop them.”

It seemed to Clay that he could feel the seconds ticking away. He looked at Molly, seeking some sign of help there. But she stood rigid, dazed with the fear working inside her.

Clay said, “You helped me once tonight, Molly.”

Her eyes focused on him. He moved his head in the direction of the fireplace a step to her right. She turned as he hoped she would, looking at the rack holding the poker.

Vanner said, “Move aside!” to Molly, and he leaned over to see what she was looking at.

Clay pushed himself away from the wall, forcing his sore leg to drive him the width of the room. He saw Vanner turn quickly back, moving with that swift, easy grace. He brought up his small gun and started out of the chair.

Clay left his feet as Vanner’s gun cracked. Molly Doane screamed and the fireplace rack went over with a clatter as she tore the poker from it.

Vanner’s bullet struck Clay’s left shoulder, but the force of his dive carried him forward. He struck Vanner with his body, driving the smaller man back into the chair. It went over with a crash.

Vanner cried out in wild anger. He jerked his gun arm free and lashed out, raking Clay’s face with the barrel. Clay’s head went back and then he clamped his right arm on Vanner’s gun wrist and rolled, pinning the gun to the floor. Pain blinded Clay and he fought through a murky red haze in an effort to get the gun away from Vanner. He got his hand on the gun and jerked, twisting free. He shook his head, clearing the blindness out of his eyes.

He heard the sodden thud of metal striking flesh. He turned to see Vanner’s body stiffen and then jerk convulsively. His voice rose in a curse which broke off as he collapsed. His neat features were broken and torn where Molly Doane had smashed him with the poker.

She lifted it to strike again. Clay surged to his feet and caught her arm. “Stop it!” he said.

“I want to kill him!” she cried. “I want to kill him!”

Clay managed to take the poker from her and push her gently away from Vanner. “Let the law take care of that for you,” he said.

He swayed dizzily and then caught himself. He found his gun and holstered it. He grabbed Vanner by the collar with his good hand and pulled him up.

Clay said to Molly, “Stay here!” and dragged Vanner out of the door and down the stairs. He put Vanner on his own horse and roped him into the saddle. Then, mounting the dun, Clay led Vanner’s horse around the saloon and onto the main street.

He could see a knot of men moving ahead of him and he raced the dun away from the main street and into the alley. He had no time to answer questions now. He could feel the numbness wearing out of his shoulder and he knew he would have to hurry before the full pain from Vanner’s bullet struck him.

He clenched his teeth and rode on. He could hear intermittent gunfire, and he felt a surge of relief. That meant those in the house were still holding out. He urged the dun to a faster pace.

Suddenly the sky lighted up in a great burst of flame. A shout rose and the firing picked up tempo. Clay saw that Tom Roddy’s cottage had been set on fire, and he forced the dun into a straining gallop.

He reined in abruptly at the edge of the light. He could see men crouched by the stable and behind the trees along the edge of the road that ran beside the house. Another half-dozen were coming from the front, hurrying from tree to tree. Torches flickered as men set them alight and moved into position from which they could charge the house.

Clay pulled Vanner’s horse around and slapped it with his reins, sending it running into the middle of the judge’s rear yard. He drew his gun and fired at a man breaking for the house, holding a flaming torch high. The man collapsed and his torch fell over in the dew-wet grass.

One wall of the cottage fell in, sending up a gout of flame. The firing from inside the house quickened as the light revealed the hiding places of the attachers.

A voice cried, “It’s Vanner! He’s tied! He’s been caught!”

One of the men threw down his gun, turned and ran across the road away from the light. Then another man broke and another. Clay sent a quick shot after them, bringing them up short.

“Drop your guns and line up in the yard!” he called. He fired again as he saw a rifle swing in his direction. The rifleman clapped a hand to his arm and ran forward to stand by Vanner’s horse. Slowly, the others emerged from their hiding places, arms held high.

Clay say Roy Ponders and Tom Roddy come onto the porch. He rode to the stairs leading up to the veranda and slid off the dun. “They’re all yours, Sheriff, if you can find a jail big enough,” he said.

He climbed the stairs slowly and went into the house. Through the shattered front windows he could see some of the men from town running for the back yard. Ponders would have deputies enough, Clay thought, as he walked to the sofa. He fell as he reached it, sprawling full length. He closed his eyes and let warm blackness enfold him.

Clay awakened to the sound of Doc Fraley’s crab-apple voice. “No bones shattered,” the doctor said tartly. “But keep him down and feed him good. He’s got to build up blood. Lot’s of steak, that’s what he needs.”

“I know just what to do,” Tonia said. “Beefsteak and potatoes.”

Clay opened his eyes to see Tonia looking down at him. His face was sore where Vanner had raked it with his gun, and he winced when he tried to talk.

“How’s your father?” he managed to ask.

“Better,” Doc Fraley answered. “He needed a tonic. Next time I get a heart patient, I’ll let him fight a lynch mob. Does wonders for the system!” He stalked out of the room.

Tonia’s eyes laughed down at Clay. “Dad really is all right,” she said. “And so are you. So stop frowning like that.”

Clay said, “I was thinking about the judge’s cattle up in the mountains.”

“He’s already hired men to bring them down,” she said. “Now be quiet.”

“About Molly Doane,” Clay said. “She — ”

“She’s buying the saloon from Damson’s estate for a dollar and other considerations,” Tonia said. “Dad isn’t a lawyer and a judge for nothing, you know.”

She put her face close to his and frowned. “Now will you be quiet?”

Clay said, “I had to get those things off my mind to leave thinking room for something more important.” He smiled lopsidedly at her. “But with nothing to concern me until spring, I guess I don’t have to think about that for a while yet after all. I — ”

His voice stopped as Tonia leaned forward and silenced him with her lips. She straightened up. “I’ve waited five years,” she said. “And I’m not going to wait any longer. So you’d better start thinking about
that
right now!”

“All right,” Clay said with a wide grin. “Bring me that steak the doc ordered.”

This edition published by
Prologue Books
a division of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.prologuebooks.com

Copyright © 1961 by Louis Trimble. Copyright © renewed 1989 by R. Mary Todd Trimble. Published by arrangement with Golden West Literary Agency. All rights reserved.

Cover Images ©istockphoto/Mike Norton

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 10: 1-4405-4898-6
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-4898-7
eISBN 10: 1-4405-4896-X
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-4896-3