Luke's Gold (25 page)

“Sounds like a good idea,” Cade replied. It had been a while since he had had a drink. “Let me clean up a little bit.”

Several of the Bar-K hands were already at the rail in Sullivan's Saloon when Cade and Red walked in. Seeing their friends at the end of the bar, the two made their way through the crowded room to join them. “Hey, Skunk,” one of the men called out, “what took you so long?”

“Some of us are civilized enough to wash a little of the cow shit offa us before we come to a fine establishment like Mr. Sullivan's,” Red shot back, getting a wide grin from Dick Sullivan behind the bar.

“I see you brought Cade with you to carry you home,” another hand commented.

“That'll likely be after we carry you home, Harvey,” Red returned, laughing good-naturedly.

“Well, hurry up and get drunk,” Harvey said. “We're gonna have a card game in a little while.”

The playful banter went back and forth for a few minutes more between the cowhands from the Bar-K. Sipping his whiskey slowly, Cade remained an amused spectator while Red tossed his first shot back and tapped the bar with the empty glass to get Sullivan's attention. The thought crossed his mind that Harvey might be right. At the rate Red was starting the evening, he might have to carry him home. The thought caused a fleeting memory of the times he had been called upon to carry Luke Tucker home after a night of drinking. He didn't permit the thought to linger, however. He was not in a mood for guilty melancholy tonight.

In the back corner of the small barroom, another spectator watched the lighthearted kidding with more than casual interest. Unnoticed at a small table, Ned Appling sat, his fingers playing idly with his empty glass, his unblinking gaze focused on the quiet cowboy beside the redhead they called Skunk.
He ain't japing with the other men,
he thought.
Maybe he's a little bit shy.
The thought brought a baleful grin to his face.
I'll let him get a little more whiskey in him—slow him down a little.
Taking a harder look at the Colt Peacemaker Cade wore, he could see that it was riding in the holster that evidently came with the weapon, nothing special about it. Ned decided the extra whiskey might not be necessary.
He ain't ever pulled that iron in a gunfight,
he thought, and almost chuckled.

At Red's insistence, Cade let Sullivan pour him another drink. Taking the glass in hand, he turned to watch Harvey and a couple of the boys pulling chairs up to a table to start the card game. “How 'bout you, Cade?” one of them asked.

“No thanks, Nate,” he replied, “I'll just watch a while.” He was about to explain that he didn't have much luck when it came to poker when his arm was suddenly jolted from behind, causing him to spill half of his drink. He turned to look into the smirking face of Ned Appling.

“You're blockin' the damn bar,” Ned growled. “How's a man supposed to get a drink with you standin' in the way?”

“Sorry,” Cade said, and moved farther down the bar. He recalled having seen the man before, but at the moment his thoughts were distracted by the card game just getting started, and he couldn't place him.

Not to be denied a confrontation, Ned moved down the bar after Cade, and roughly shouldered him again. “By God, you just ain't gonna get outta the way, are you?”

Cade turned to face Ned again, puzzled by the man's behavior. He glanced at the open expanse of bar behind the menacing face. “Mister, nobody's keepin' you from orderin' a drink that I can see. Why don't you just go on about your business and leave me alone?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, you son of a bitch, tellin' me where I can stand?” He stuck his face up close to Cade's, taunting, his hand resting on the handle of his pistol.

Suddenly a wave of silence swept over the crowded room as the noisy patrons became aware of the incident unfolding at the bar. It came to him then. Cade remembered the man as the one who accompanied John Slater at the ranch. He had only seen him from a distance, but he was sure now that he was the same man.

Realizing what was taking place, Red stood up from the table. “Hold on there, Mister, you got no call to hassle Cade.”

Ned shot a quick glance in Red's direction. “Set down,
Skunk
. This ain't no affair of yours. This is between me and this son of a bitch tryin' to hog the whole damn bar.”

His fuse lit, Red started forward, but Cade held out his hand to stop him, his whiskey glass still in the other hand. “Take it easy, Red. Sit back down and let me take care of it. I'll talk to him.”

“Talk, hell!” Ned blurted. “I'm done talkin'. You're wearin' a gun. Now you'd best get ready to use it, or you're gonna crawl outta here like the low-down coward you smell like.”

“Mister, for some reason, you think you've got a problem with me. S'pose you tell me what's eatin' at you. What is your real problem with me?” Cade asked, his voice calm and steady. “I'm thinkin' John Slater has somethin' to do with this.”

“I don't give a damn what you're thinkin',” Appling bellowed. “If you don't step back and draw that damn gun, I'll shoot you down where you stand.” With his hand hovering over the handle of his pistol, he stepped back to give himself room.

Still somewhat amazed to find himself in this standoff, Cade quickly assessed the situation. A quick glance told him that he might be in real trouble—the way the man's gun holster was slung to provide quick access, tied down to his leg, the holster itself, heavily oiled with a piece in the front cut away for minimum interference. Cade realized that this was his profession. Knowing he had no chance in a gunfight with Appling, he stepped after him as Ned backed away, crowding him. Pushing his face up close, Cade whispered loudly, “If you don't turn around and get outta here, I'm gonna kick your ass.”

“What?” Ned blurted, hardly believing what he had just heard. “Why you son of a—” he started, reaching for his pistol.

Before he could draw the weapon, Cade's free hand clamped down hard on Ned's gun hand, holding the pistol firmly in the holster. With his other hand, he splashed the remainder of his whiskey into the surprised man's eyes. Appling jerked his head back from the stinging alcohol, and before he could open his eyes again, Cade planted a hard right hand that landed beside the point of his chin. Ned's knees buckled, and he grabbed the bar with his free hand to keep from falling, giving Cade time to pull his own weapon. A sharp rap across the bridge of Ned's nose was enough to send him on down to the floor, too groggy to know what had happened. Cade reached down and took Ned's pistol from him, then grabbed him by his heels and dragged the half-conscious man out of the saloon.

While this was taking place, the entire saloon had remained caught in stunned silence. As Cade came back inside, the room filled with noise again as Bar-K hands and everyone else suddenly recovered their voices. “Goddamn,” was all a shocked Red Reynolds could utter.

“He don't say a helluva lot,” Harvey exclaimed, “but it don't do to rile him, does it?”

Cade stood there, holding both guns for a long moment. Of all the patrons in the saloon, he, more than anyone, knew that it wasn't over. It wasn't a coincidence that Ned Appling was in that saloon tonight. He was sent there to call Cade out, and he would be back. Dick Sullivan moved up beside Cade then and cautioned in a low voice, “I think maybe it would be best if you called it a night, and maybe you'd better use the back door.”

“Yes, sir,” Cade replied. “I expect you're right.” He could appreciate the fear the saloon owner had of the beaten man coming back to look for Cade and shooting up his saloon. He turned to find Red standing behind him. “It's all right, Red, I was thinkin' about going back to the bunkhouse, anyway. I'll see you later.” He laid Ned Appling's pistol on the bar and left.

Outside, Cade stood at the back door of the saloon for a few minutes, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. The rowdy din of the patrons in the saloon provided a steady hum through the rough plank door behind him as he listened for any unusual sound in the dark. Looking left and right in the narrow alley that ran between the buildings and the creek behind them, he could see no sign of anyone lying in wait. Sensing no immediate danger, he stepped out of the shadow of the door and started walking back to the ranch.

Glancing briefly down the side alley between the saloon and the dry goods store and seeing no one, he passed behind the store, and walked out to the street on the other side. Pausing again to scan the main thoroughfare, he saw nothing but a few horses tied out front of the saloon. The street was empty all the way down to the south end where the Montana Territorial Prison stood. It occurred to him then the irony of a planned assassination in the very shadow of the prison. He wondered if the man who had come to kill him had ever been a guest at the notorious institution.

It could be, he told himself as he walked along the dark road, that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion regarding the incident in the bar. Why would a man of John Slater's obvious wealth and apparent standing hire a common gunman to eliminate a rival suitor? It didn't make sense, especially in light of the fact that Cade was no suitor at all. Maybe, he thought, Appling just had a burr under his saddle and felt like a fight. He remembered then the challenging stare from Appling the first time he had seen him. Thinking about it now, he was surprised he didn't recognize the man right away in the saloon tonight. Still, Appling was Slater's hired hand. Cade could not discard the possibility the fight was at Slater's bidding. Jealousy was a disease shared by rich men as well as saddle tramps.

He was almost back to the bunkhouse when he heard the sound of hooves on the road behind him, pounding hard in a full gallop. He turned just in time to hear the snap of a bullet as it passed beside his head a split second before the crack of the rifle. Instinct saved him from the second shot as he dived into the bushes by the side of the road, rolling over and over when he hit the ground, desperately searching for some form of cover. A low mound was the only reasonable protection he could find at the moment. He crawled behind it, pulled his Colt from the holster, and prepared to return fire.

Suddenly taking form in the darkness, horse and rider appeared, bearing down on him with rifle blazing shot after shot that ripped the grass on the mound, pinning him down on his belly. The horse was almost upon him when he heard the click of Appling's firing pin on an empty chamber. With angry determination, Appling drove the horse on, attempting to trample Cade, who rolled away, out from under the pounding hooves. As soon as he was free of the danger of being trampled, Cade raised his pistol and fired at his assailant who was galloping away in the darkness to reload his rifle. Given the opportunity, Cade scrambled to his feet and ran for the bunkhouse.

Too far committed at this point to worry about the close proximity to the ranch, and enraged beyond caution, Ned jammed more cartridges into his rifle, wheeled his horse and galloped back toward the mound. Catching a glimpse of the fleeing man in the darkness, he turned the horse sharply and chased after him.

Running for all he was worth, Cade rounded the corner of the bunkhouse and made for the shed built on the back. Spotting the barrel standing in the corner between the bunkhouse and the shed, he headed straight for it. In almost one continuous motion, he leaped up on the barrel and pulled himself up on the shed roof. There he crouched, his heart pumping in a desperate effort to supply the oxygen his lungs screamed for. In a few seconds' time, the dark horse-man rounded the corner of the building. Kneeling on the short roof of the shed, Cade was face-to-face with the man in the saddle for a brief instant before he pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into Ned's chest at point-blank range, knocking him over to one side as his horse galloped on. Cade leaped to the ground and ran after him. Slumped in the saddle, Ned's body sagged from side to side as his horse gradually slowed, finally coming to a stop. Cade approached cautiously, his pistol aimed at Ned's back, but the wounded man never looked back. After what seemed a long time, the rifle dropped from Ned's hand and he slid off to the side, landing dead on the ground, a bullet through his heart.

Within seconds, Cade was joined by a couple of men from the bunkhouse; one of them was Ralph Duncan. Up at the main house, a lantern appeared on the porch, the family having been awakened by the shots. In a few minutes, Carlton Kramer came down to the bunkhouse to investigate. He got there just as Cade finished telling Duncan what had happened, and why there was a dead man lying between his bunkhouse and barn. “Are you sure that's the same man?” Kramer asked, then held his lantern close over the body while Duncan rolled it over. “That's the same man who was with Slater, all right,” he said, answering his question himself. Then he turned to Cade. “Why would he come gunning for you? Have you had a run-in with him before?”

“Well, not since about a half hour ago in the saloon,” Cade answered. “He tried to start somethin' with me then. Before that, I haven't had any dealin's with the man. Some of the men were there. They can tell you the straight of it.”

“Hell, man, I believe what you say,” Kramer quickly replied. “I'm just wondering if we ought to even bother Bob Soseby about it.”

“I don't see why,” Duncan said. “Seems to me like Cade, here, has already handled it.” Bob Soseby was a guard at the prison who worked part time as a deputy sheriff for the little town.

“Since the man was one of John Slater's crew,” Kramer said, “we ought to at least send word to him.”

“I expect so,” Duncan agreed.

“I'm thinkin' it's up to me to carry his body over to Slater's place—since I'm the one that shot him.” In truth, Cade would just as soon drag the body down to the pig lot and let the hogs enjoy him. There was no doubt that Appling had specifically targeted Cade. He had never seen Ned before that first day when he had accompanied John Slater to the Bar-K. He had to be sent by Slater, so Cade wanted to dump the body at Slater's front door and face the man. “I'll tote him over there in the mornin',” he said.