Riders Of the Dawn (1980) (12 page)

Then I turned with his arm over my shoulder and threw hi m bodily across the floor against the bar rail. He came up fast , and I nailed him with another left. Then he caught me wit h both hands, and sparks danced among the stars in my skull.

That old smoky taste came up inside of me, and the taste o f blood in my mouth, and I walked in smashing with bot h hands! Something busted on his face, and his brow was cut t o the bone. The blood was running all over him.

There was a crowd around, and they were yelling, but I h eard no sound. I walked in, bobbing and weaving to miss a s many of those jarring, brutal blows as possible, but they kep t landing and battering me. He knocked me hack into the ba r and then grabbed a bottle. He took a terrific cut at my skul l and I ducked, smashing him in the ribs. He staggered an d sprawled out of balance from the force of his missed swing , and I rushed him and took a flying leap at his shoulders. I l anded astride and jammed both spurs into his thighs, and h e let out a roar of agony.

I went over his head, lighting on all fours, and he spran g atop my back. I flattened out on the floor with the feelin g that he had me. He was yelling like a madman, and h e grabbed my hair and began to heat my head against the floor.

How I did it I'll never know, but I bowed my back under hi s weight and forced myself to my hands and knees. He rippe d at me with his own spurs, and then I got his leg and thre w him off.

Coining up together we circled, more wary now. His shir t was in ribbons, and he was covered with blood. I'd neve r seen Morgan stripped before. He had a chest and shoulder s like a Hercules. He circled and then came into me, snarling.

I nailed that snarl into his teeth with both fists, and w e stood there swinging free with both hands, rocking with th e power of those punches and smelling of sweat, blood, and fury.

He backed up and I went into him. Suddenly he caugh t my upper arms, and dropping he put a foot in my stomac h and threw me over his head!

For a fleeting instant I was flying through the air, an d then I lit on a poker table and grabbed the sides with bot h hands. It went over on top of me, and that was all that save d me as he rushed in to finish me with the boots. I shove d the table at him and came up off the _floor, and he hit m e again and I went right back down. He dropped a big palm o n my head and shoved me at the floor. I sprawled out and h e kicked me in the side.
It missed my ribs and glanced off my gun belt, and I rolled over and grabbed his boot, twisting hard!

It threw him off balance and he hit the floor, which gav e me a chance to get on my feet. I got him just as he wa s halfway up with a right that knocked him through the doo r and out onto the porch. I' hit the porch in a jump, and h e tackled me around the knees. We both were down then, an d I slapped him with a cupped hand over his ear and kne w from the way he let go that I'd busted an eardrum for him. I d ropped him again with a solid right to the chin, and stoo d back, gasping and pain-wracked, fighting for breath. He go t up more slowly, and I nailed him left and right in the mout h and he went clown heavily.

Sprawled out, he lay there on the edge of the walk, on e hand trailing in the dust, and I stared down at him. He wa s finished, through! Turning on my heels I walked back inside , and brushing off those who crowded around me I headed fo r the bar. I took the glass of whiskey that was shoved at me an d poured it in my hands and mopped the cuts on the lower par t of my face with it. Then I took a quick gulp from anothe r glass they put before me and turned.

Morgan Park was standing three feet away from me, a bloody, battered giant with cold, ugly fury blazing from hi s eyes. "Give me a drink!" he bellowed.

He picked up the glass and tossed it off. "Another!" h e yelled, while I stared at him. He picked that up, lifted it t o his lips, and then threw it in my eyes!

I must have blinked, for instead of getting the shot-glas s full, I got only part of it, but enough to blind me. And the n he stepped close. As I fought for sight I caught a glimpse o f his hoot toes, wide spread, and I was amazed that such a bi g man had such small feet. Then he hit me. It felt like a blo w from an ax, and it knocked me into the bar. He faced around , taking his time, and smashed one into my body, and I wen t down, gasping for breath. He kicked at me with the toe of on e of those deadly boots that could have put an eye out, but th e kick glanced off the side of my head and I went down.

It was my turn to be down and out. Then somebod y drenched me with a bucket of water and I looked up. Ke y Chapin was standing over me, but it was not Key Chapi n who had thrown the water. It was Olga.

Right then I was only amazed that she was there at all , and then I got up shakily and somebody said, "There he is!"
a nd I saw Park standing there with his hands on his hips , leering at me, and with the same mutual hatred we wen t for each other again.

How we did it I don't know. Both of us had take n beatings that would have killed a horse. All I knew was tha t time for me had stopped. Only one thing remained. I had t o whip that man, whip him or kill him with my bare hands, an d I was not stopping until I was sure I had done it.

"Stop it, you crazy fools! Stop it or I'll throw you both i n jail!" Sheriff Will Tharp was standing in the door with a gu n on mine . His cold blue eyes were blazing.

Behind him were maybe twenty men staring at us. On e of them was Key Chapin. Another was Bodie Miller.

"Take him out of here, then," I said. "If he wants mor e of this he can have it in the morning."

Park backed toward the door and then turned away. H
e looked punch-drunk.
f ace . A fter that I sat up for an hour putting hot water on m y Then I went to the livery stable and crawled into th e loft, taking a blanket with me. I had worn my guns and ha d my rifle along.

How long I slept I have no idea, except that when I a wakened bright sunlight was streaming through the cracks i n the walls of the old stable. The loft was like an oven with th e heat. Sitting up, I touched my face. It was sore, all right, bu t felt better. I worked my fingers to loosen them up and the n heard a movement and looked around. Morgan Park was o n the ladder staring at me. And I knew then that I was no t looking at a sane man.

Chapter
10

He stood there on the ladder in that hot old barn, staring a t me with hatred, with a fury that seemed no whit abated fro m the previous night.

You back again?" I spoke quietly, yet lay poised fo r instant movement. I knew now the tremendous vitality tha t huge body held. "After the way I licked you last night?"

The veins distended in his brow and throat. "Whippe d me?" His voice was hoarse with anger. "Why, you-- H
e started over the end of the ladder, and I let him come. Righ t then I could have cooled him, knocked him off that ladder , but something within me wouldn't allow it. With a lesse r man, one I could have whipped easily, I might have done i t just to end the fighting, but not with Morgan Park. Righ t then I knew I had to whip him fairly, or I could never b e quite comfortable again.

He straightened from the ladder, and I could see that h e was a little stiff. Well, so was I. But inv boxing with Mulvane y and the riding I had done had been keeping me in trim. M
y condition was better than his, almost enough to neutralize hi s greater size and strength. He straightened and turned towar d me. He did not rush, just stood there studying me with coo l calculation, and I knew that he, too, had come here to mak e an end to this fight and to me.

Right then he was studying how best to whip me, an d suddenly I perceived his advantage. In the loft--one sid e open to the barn, the rest of it stacked with hay--I wa s distinctly at a disadvantage. Here his weight and strengt h could be decisive. He moved toward me, backing me towar d the hay. I feinted, but he did not strike. He merely move d on in, his head hunched behind a big shoulder, his fists before him, moving slightly. Then he lunged. My back came u p against the slanting wall of hay and my feet slipped. Of f balance, lying against the hay, I had no power in my blows.

With cold. brutality he began to swing. His eyes were exultant and wicked with sadistic delight. Lights exploded in m y brain, and then another punch hit me, and another.

My head spinning, lily mouth tasting of smoke, I le t myself slide to a sitting position and then threw my weigh t sidewise against his knees. He staggered, and fearing the fal l off the edge of the loft, fought for balance. Instantly, I smashe d him in the mouth. He went to his haunches, and I spran g past him, grabbed a rope that hung from the rafters, an d dropped to the hard-packed earth of the barn's floor.

He turned and glared at me, and I waited. A ma n appeared in the door, and I heard him yell, 'They're at i t again!" And then Morgan Park clambered down the ladde r and turned to me.

Now it had to be ended. Moving in quickly, I jabbed a stiff left to his face. The punch landed on his lacerated mout h and started the blood. Circling carefully, I slipped a right an d countered with a right to the ribs. Then I hit him, fast an d rolling my shoulders, with a left and right to the face. H
e came in, but I slipped another punch and uppercut hard t o the wind. That slowed him down. He hit me with a glancin g left and took two punches in return.

He looked sick now, and I moved in, smashing him o n the chin with both hands. He backed up, bewildered, and I k nocked his left aside and hit him on the chin. He went to hi s knees and I stepped back and let him get up.

Behind me, there was a crowd and I knew it. Waiting, I l et him get up. He wiped off his hands and then lunged at me , head down and swinging! Sidestepping swiftly, I evaded th e rush, and when he tried it again I dropped my palm to th e top of his head and spun him. At the same instant I uppercu t with a wicked right that straightened him up. He turne d toward me, and then I pulled the trigger on a high hard one.

It struck his chin with the solid thud of the butt end of an a x striking a log.

He fell--not over backwards, but face down. He lay ther e still and quiet, unmoving. Out cold.

Sodden with weariness and fed up with fighting for once , I turned away from him and picked up my hat and rifle.

Nobody said anything, staring at my battered face and tor n clothing. Then they walked to him.

At the door I met Sheriff Tharp. He glared at me.

"Didn't I tell you to stop fighting in this town, Sabre?"

"What am I going to do? Let him beat my head off? I c ame here to sleep without interruption, and he followed me , found me this morning." Jerking my head toward the barn'
s interior, I told him, "You'll find him in there, Tharp."

He hesitated. "Better have some rest, Sabre. Then rid e out of town for a few days.
After all, I have to have peace. I'
m arresting Park."

"Not for fighting?"

For murder. This morning I received an official communication confirming your message."

Actually, I was sorry for Park. No man ever hates a ma n he has whipped in a hand-to-hand fight. All I wanted no w was sleep, food, and gallons of cold spring water. Right then I f elt as if it had been weeks since I'd had a decent drink.

Yet all the way to O'Hara's I kept remembering tha t bucket of water doused over me the night before . Had i t really been Olga Maclaren there? Or had I been out of m y head from the punches I'd taken?

When my face was washed off I came into the restaurant , and the first person I saw was Key Chapin. He looked at m y face and shook his head." I'd never believe anything huma n could fight the way you two did!" he exclaimed. "And agai n this morning! I hear you whipped him good this time."

"Yeah." I was tired of it all. Somberly, I ate breakfast , listening to the drone of voices in my ears.

"Booker's still in town." Chapin was speaking." What's h e after, I wonder?"

Right then I did not care, but as I ate and drank coffee , my mind began to function once more. After all, this was m y country. I belonged here. For the first time I really felt that I b elonged someplace.

"Am I crazy, or was Olga here last night?"

"She was here, all right. She saw part of your fight."

"Did she leave?"

"I think not. I believe she's staying over at Doc and Mrs.

West's place. They're old friends of hers." Chapin knocke d out his pipe. "As a matter of fact, you'd better go over ther e and have him look at those cuts. One of them at least need s some stitches."

"Tharp arrested Park."

"Yes, I know. Park is Cantwell, all right." .

Out in the air I felt better. With food and sonic stron g black coffee inside of me I felt like . A new man, and th e mountain air was fresh and good to the taste. Turning, I s tarted up the street, walking slowly. This was Hattan's. Thi s was my town. Here, in this place, I would remain. I woul d ranch here, graze my cattle, rear my sons to manhood. Her e I would take my place in the world and be something mor e than the careless, cheerful, trouble-hunting rider. Here, i n this place, I belonged.

Doc West lived in a small white cottage surrounded b y rose hushes and shrouded in vines. Several tall poplars reache d toward the sky , and there was a small patch of lawn inside th e white picket fence.

He answered the door at my rap, a tall, austere-lookin g man with gray hair and keen blue eyes. He smiled at me.