the Mountain Valley War (1978) (13 page)

Jesse sat down on the step. "Ain't nobody about to tell our side of it."

Kilkenny took off his hat and stripped off his shirt. He drew a bucket of water from the well and began to bathe the dust from his head and shoulders. The muscles ran like snakes under the tawny skin. "I may go down there and try to talk to them."

"You'd never have a chance," O'Hara replied.

"They'd kill you," Parson said.

"Not while those officials are there. Not if they can help it. And the last thing I want is a gun battle. We've got to convince them we are what we are, just good citizens trying to build homes in the wilderness, and that we have filed on our claims ... as they can find out by checking."

"How are you going to get to them?" O'Hara asked.

"I don't know. I've got to think about that. He will have them as houseguests at the Castle, and they'd never let me get within a mile of that place.

"If I stood around on the street or mingled with the carnival crowd, somebody would recognize me and they'd just block me off or take me out of there. They'd just watch their chance, slug me, pour whiskey on my shirt, and if any questions were asked, I would be just a drunk they'd put in jail to keep out of trouble."

"Then how will you do it?"

"I'll think of a way." He paused. "I'm going to the bunkhouse for a clean shirt, but I'll find a way, somehow, even if I have to fight Tombull Turner."

He walked away from them, and they stood looking after him. "Fight Turner?" Jesse said. "He's crazy. Turner's a prizefighter. He's not another Hale."

"Maybe," O'Hara said, "but did you watch Kilkenny move? He's like a big cat."

"He can fight some," Jesse agreed. "He surely whopped King Bill, an' he was supposed to be something."

"But Turner's a prizefighter! A man who makes his living that way!" Runyon had walked up. "I don't think there's anybody west of the Mississippi who'd have a chance with him. Anyway, they'd have somebody picked to fight him who could give him a fight."

"He wasn't serious," Bartram commented. "He was just talking."

"Maybe," Parson said, "but it would be one way of gettin' close to those folks from the capital. Anyway, that can wait. What we've got to think about now is gettin' to Blazer with a wagon."

Nobody offered a word on the fact that one wagon had already started. They all knew what a slim chance it was that their wagon would get through, let alone get back with their men alive.

"That desert country is right spooky," Jesse said. "I done looked over it from the rim a time or two. I never lost nothing down there."

"If there was a way across," Runyon said, "we'd never have to worry about starving out. King Bill couldn't stop us from getting across."

"He owns property in Blazer," O'Hara said. "He ain't a man to leave much to chance. He's coppered every bet."

"Nevertheless, if we could make it..."

"If anybody can, Kilkenny can," Parson said. "He sets out to do something, he does it. He never said a word about what happened today, but if you noticed, he come back with a length cut off his rope, and he taken three of them with him. I wonder how he ever made it down that cliff."

There was no table long enough to seat them all, and nobody wanted to wait, so when the food was dished up they took their plates and sat down wherever they could, leaving the table for the family.

They were eating when Kilkenny came in. He got his plate and went to the step outside the open door. Shadows were gathering under the trees, and he felt fresher since his quick and partial bath.

Bartram came out and sat beside him. "Look," he said, "I think that's a bad notion, you fighting Turner. The chances are they have somebody picked anyway. And how would you get a challenge to them? They'd shoot whoever you sent down."

Ma Hatfield, a tall, rawboned women in a gray cotton dress, came to the door. "They wouldn't shoot me," she said, "and if need be, I'll go."

"It was a notion," Kilkenny said, "just a notion. But I'd surely like to know who they've picked to fight him."

Ma Hatfield refilled their cups and stood by with the coffeepot in hand. "I hain't been to town ha some time," she said, "an' I'm a-frettin' to go."

She looked at Kilkenny. "They say you know that Riordan woman. Wouldn't she be likely to know who's to fight?"

"She would know. She seems to know everything. She probably knows who is to come here from the capital, too."

He looked up at her. "Ma, if you're serious, I'd really like to know two things. I'd like to know who is to fight Turner, and I'd like to know who it is that is coming down from the capital."

"Why?" Bartram asked. "Do you know somebody there?"

"Wish I did. No, I don't know anybody there, but there's a man named Halloran ... he's a man who would go a long way to see a good fight. He's at the capital, or so I heard."

"Come daybreak," Ma said quietly, "I'll ride into town. I'll see that Riordan woman--"

"Nita Riordan," Kilkenny suggested. "She's a fine person, Ma. You'll like her."

"Hain't no matter, one way or t'other, but I'll see her an' find out what I can."

Runyon studied him. "You've got more on your mind than a fight, but d' you think you can whup him?"

"Tombull Turner? No. I don't think I can. Maybe. No, I certainly wouldn't bet any money on my chances, but if I could get in there with him, I'd get a chance to talk to those men from the capital.

"Look ... I'd be in the ring. They would certainly be at ringside. I'd take a beating just to get to them."

"You take it," Runyon said, "not me."

Chapter
11

At daybreak Ma Hatfield was off to Cedar riding a sorrel mare, and Kilkenny and several of the others had ridden to the great tree that blocked access to the old road.

Kilkenny and Quince went to work on the big tree with a crosscut saw, while the others started on the small grove that had grown up around the fallen giant, clearing away the younger trees as well as the broken limbs of the big tree.

During a pause, Quince straightened and rubbed his back. "They should be there today. I hope they made it."

"They should ... if all went well." He rested his own back, unaccustomed to the saw. "Do you know Blazer?"

"Been there a time or two. Man there named Soderman. Big, fat, an' mean . . . mean as all get-out. He's Hale's man. Got him a gunman around named Rye Pitkin."

"I know him. He's a two-bit rustler from the Pecos country. He's a fair hand with a gun--that's all, just a fair hand."

"There's another pair. Gaddis, and a sidekick of his called Ratcliff. If we get there, we can expect trouble."

" 'We'?" Kilkenny smiled at him. "You figuring on the trip?"

"Now, you don't think I'd let a youngster like you go t' town alone, do you? There's gamblin' an' women an' liquor of all kinds, an' such sinnin' you never heard of. No, sirree! I think I best go alongside of you to sort of guide you through the evils."

They worked hard for several minutes, and then Quince said, "The bore o' that ol' rifle o' mine surely needs cleanin', an' I figure there's no need to really clean it until I've done shot somethin' with it, so I'll just ride along an' fetch that rifle with me ... just in case."

They worked steadily until too dark to see, and when they stopped work, the road was open wide enough for a wagon to pass through.

O'Hara, who had done the work of two men with his ax, stood looking out over the wasteland. "You can have it," he remarked grimly. "She don't look good to me."

Returning to their horses, they rode wearily homeward, and nobody had much to say. Tomorrow they would make the effort, and with luck they would go through, but what of the first wagon? What of Lije and the others?

Ma Hatfield reached Cedar before noon. She had taken her time and a roundabout way, and when she rode into town nobody seemed to notice. She came up the back streets and rode at once to the back door of the Crystal Palace.

Tying her mule, she tapped gently. For several minutes there was no response, but there was a small rear window, and she was quite sure she was being observed.

She did not object. After all, she was a stranger and they had a right. After a minute the door opened, and a big man was standing there, a big man in black pants rucked into black boots, two heavy belts of black and two guns. He wore a pure white shut and a black vest studded with gleaming bits that looked like diamonds.

"Come in, Senora Hatfield! You are most welcome."

"You know me, then?"

He bowed gracefully. "I am Jaime Brigo. I have seen you."

He did not say where or how, but he turned away from her and led the way down the hall to a door that was, she noted, set solidly in the timbers that formed the frame. This was no ordinary door, and it would take a battering ram or an ax to break through, and then it would not yield easily.

He tapped on the door and it opened. Nita Riordan got to her feet. "Senora? I am pleased. Would you sit? Do you prefer tea or coffee?"

Ma started to say "Coffee" and then reflected that it had been ten years since she'd had a cup of tea. "Tea," she said, "and a mite of sugar, please."

"Would honey do? I prefer it and rarely have sugar around. Although," she added, "I believe they do have a little at the bar."

"Honey will do just fine."

Ma Hatfield had been looking at Nita Riordan suspiciously. She was, Ma admitted to herself, a handsome woman. Not more than twenty, she guessed, but mighty sure of herself. Moved graceful-like, too. Beautiful, too, no doubt about it.

Ma decided she liked the chair she sat in, and liked the room. It was, she guessed, what they called a sitting room, and through a door on the other side she could see a rolltop desk and a chair, like in an office.

"You run this here place your ownself?"

"I do, senora. When my father died he left me such a place, and it was all I had. It was run it myself or starve. I learned very quickly."

The tea arrived, carried by an old Chinese. He placed it on the table between them, and some small wafers. Ma looked at them warily. She had heard all sorts of things about such places as this, and that furriner, too. That yellow one. She'd heard about them.

Nita poured two cups, then handed one to Ma with a couple of the wafers on it.

"You are Senora Hatfield? You have some handsome sons, senora."

Well, now! Maybe they was and maybe they wasn't, but it was nice of her to say so. "They're good boys," she agreed. "A mite inclined to shoot too quick, but even so, they don't miss often, although that Saul"--she shook her head--"he had a dead bead on a big buck night afore last, and him not three hundred yards off. Missed him. Missed him complete! I d'clare, I was glad his ol' pappy didn't see it. It would have shamed him."

"What is it you wish of me?"

"Miss, Mr. Kilkenny, he asked me to find out two things. He's wishful to know who is to fight this here Tombull Turner, and he also wishes to know who is coming to Cedar from the capital.

"We uns heard tell that Mr. Hale, him they call King Bill, had invited some folks down from the capital. I think," she added, "the one he's most thoughtful of is him they call Halloran."

"Halloran? Yes, he is coming. I am not sure about the others. He invited several, and three accepted, and I know that Halloran is one of them."

"Good! Now, who is to fight this here Tombull?"

"It is a man named Sandoval. He is a Basque from over near Virginia City in Nevada. I know nothing else about him."

"Just as well. Kilkenny was thinkin' o' fightin' Tombull hisself."

"Senora, he must not even think of it! This man is strong. Oh, so very strong! And he has had many fights. Please, you must not let him think of it!"

Mrs. Hatfield chuckled. "Ma'am, you surely don't know much about menfolks! Not, at least, the kind we got yonder in the hills. Why, I couldn't talk my old man or ary one of the boys out'n a fight, let alone that Kilkenny! He does what he pleases, and when he pleases, although I do say I never knew a nicer, kinder, or more thoughtful man in all my born days."

"Senora, you must not tell him, but they have talked of it. Cub--he is Bill Hale's son--he suggested it. He said they should rope and hog-tie him and bring him down here and throw him in there with Turner. I heard them talking, but King Bill stopped that talk very quickly."

"Kilkenny aint afeerd, ma'am. He'd fight him in a minute. Fact is, he's talked of it. He says he doesn't think he could beat Turner, but it would give him a chance to talk to Halloran."

Nita Riordan put down her cup. She looked at the work-hardened hands of the older woman and felt ashamed of her own. The lean brown figure in the faded gray dress and sunbonnet. There was little that was feminine about her except for the way her fingers touched the fabric of the chair, the way her eyes yearned toward the pretty things. Yet Nita was wise enough to sense the deep pride in the woman and knew she dared offer her nothing.

"Senora, you must not be seen here. I think some of the men know you, and ... well, there are some evil men here. Mr. Hale would not want a woman injured, but I cannot say so much for some of the others. You must go."