Guns of Wrath Read online

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  Comfort handed him the glasses and directed him to the patch of vegetation he had been looking at.

  ‘I don’t see nothin’,’ Briggs said.

  ‘Behind that juniper bush,’ Comfort replied. ‘Looks to me like a leg.’

  Briggs stared hard.

  ‘Hell,’ he said at length, ‘I think you might be right.’

  Bannock looked at them both.

  ‘Let’s go take a look,’ he said.

  Comfort sheathed the glasses and they spurred their horses down the slope. It took them longer to reach the spot than Comfort would have reckoned for but as they approached it was clear that he was right. Extending from the clump of bushes was a leg clad in a riding-boot and above it the hem of a skirt. Reaching the bushes, they jumped from their horses and ran to the spot. The figure of a woman lay stretched out on the grass, face upwards. Comfort flung himself down beside her.

  ‘She’s breathin’ OK,’ he said.

  He looked her over for any sign of injury but the only obvious thing he could see was a swelling to her head. Briggs came running up with a canteen of water which he held to her lips. Bannock, who was close behind, took one look at the unconscious woman.

  ‘Jumpin’ Jehosaphat,’ he said. ‘That’s Jenny Burns from the Crystal Arcade!’

  Just as he spoke the words, her eyes flickered open. She gazed up at them uncomprehendingly before a look of terror and alarm spread across her features.

  ‘Don’t hurt me!’ she pleaded.

  Bannock stepped forward and knelt beside her.

  ‘Miss Jenny,’ he soothed, ‘It’s me, Beaver Bannock. These other people are friends of mine. You don’t have anything to fear. We’ve come to help you.’

  Briggs offered her the canteen again and she swallowed some water.

  ‘What happened?’ Bannock said. ‘What are you doin’ here?’

  Suddenly tears began to flow from Jenny’s eyes and course down her cheeks. She struggled to sit upright and Comfort put his arms around her for support.

  ‘I couldn’t let it happen again,’ Jenny began to mumble. ‘I had to get away. I didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘Let what happen, Miss Jenny?’ Bannock said. ‘Get away from what?’

  ‘From Wilder. Oh, it was horrible.’

  She began to shake with sobs and Comfort held her to his chest until she quieted a little.

  ‘You’ve got a bump on your head but it ain’t too bad,’ he said. ‘Do you feel pain anywhere else?’

  In response she began to weep once more. Comfort looked at the others.

  ‘Guess we’d better take her back to Cayuse Landing,’ he said. ‘Let the doc take a look at her.’

  Jenny began to clutch at him. ‘No. Please don’t take me back. Don’t let Wilder find me.’

  Comfort regarded her with a searching look. ‘Whatever Wilder’s done to you,’ he said, ‘he ain’t gonna be doin’ it no more.’

  She grew calmer, still cradled in Comfort’s arms. Nobody spoke for a while. At length Jenny seemed to have recovered something of her equilibrium.

  ‘Here’s what we’ll do,’ Comfort said. ‘You just rest right here, Miss Jenny, while we make things comfortable. I reckon you could do with a cup of coffee and maybe some food inside you. After that, if you feel ready, you can tell us just what’s been goin’ on.’

  ‘And don’t worry none,’ Bannock added. ‘Like Mr Comfort says, whatever’s happened, you’re safe now.’

  Before long they had built a fire and rustled up some beans and coffee. While Bannock and Comfort were occupied with doing this, Briggs went off and after a time reappeared leading a worn-looking blue roan pony. Jenny looked pleased.

  ‘I’d forgotten about him till now. Thank you, Mr Briggs. It wouldn’t have been nice if anything had happened to him.’

  By the time she had eaten and put some strong black coffee inside her, Jenny was looking a lot better. Without her having confirmed whether she was carrying any injuries other than the one to her head, Comfort had pretty well satisfied himself that she was basically OK. Neither he nor any of the others pushed her into telling her story, but eventually she appeared willing to talk. It was obviously still not easy for her to do so and though her account was sparse, it was not difficult for them to read between the lines and fill in some of the details.

  ‘Last night I decided to get away from the Crystal Arcade altogether,’ Jenny concluded. ‘I got this far and then the horse just took a stumble. He threw me. I must have passed out because that’s all I can remember till you found me.’

  ‘That stinkin’ varmint Wilder,’ Bannock said when she had finished. ‘I knew he was no good, but this just about beats all.’

  ‘I’m plumb sorry, ma’am,’ Briggs mumbled. ‘It just shouldn’t be that way.’

  Comfort didn’t say anything. His mouth was drawn tight and his jaw was clenched.

  ‘You say this man Sabin attacked Miss Annie too,’ Bannock asked. ‘Was she hurt bad?’

  ‘Sabin hit her. She made out it wasn’t serious, but in a way she got the worst of it.’

  ‘You hear that?’ Bannock said to Comfort.

  Comfort ignored his question.

  ‘That skunk Wilder needs to be dealt with,’ Bannock said. ‘But then I guess you’re still intent on gettin’ to the Lazy Acre.’

  Comfort looked at the oldster as if he had heard him for the first time.

  ‘Those tracks we saw back along the trail,’ he said. ‘I got an idea whose they might be.’

  Bannock looked perplexed. ‘What are you goin’ on about?’ he said. ‘What have they got to do with anythin’?’

  Comfort turned his attention to Jenny.

  ‘Would Miss Annie have missed you this mornin’?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. I usually get up early, like the rest of the girls.’

  ‘You livin’ back at the Crystal Arcade?’

  ‘Yes, but Miss Annie has a room there. She don’t always stay at her house.’

  ‘What do you think her reaction would be to findin’ you gone? Especially after everythin’ you just told us.’

  ‘I don’t know. I guess she’d get worried and start wondering where I was.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s what I reckon.’

  ‘What are you sayin’ exactly?’ Bannock said.

  ‘Remember, I know Miss Annie. She wouldn’t just sit back and do nothin’. She’d start lookin’. And what would be the first place she’d start?’

  ‘The Black Stirrup,’ Bannock replied.

  ‘You got it. My guess is that those hoofmarks we saw were made by Miss Annie’s horse.’

  The oldster whistled. ‘By Jiminy, I reckon you could be right,’ he said.

  Jenny had become agitated at his words. ‘Miss Annie will be in real danger if she goes anywhere near the Black Stirrup,’ she said.

  Comfort leaped to his feet. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I’m goin’ back to follow those prints. If it’s Miss Annie, I’ll find her. When Jenny’s ready to ride, you two take her back to Cayuse Landing.’

  He turned to Jenny.

  ‘Is there some place you could stay? Apart from the Crystal Arcade, I mean.’

  Jenny thought for a moment.

  ‘You could stay with the doc,’ Bannock said. ‘He’s a good man. He’ll understand the situation.’

  ‘Good,’ Comfort said. ‘Once Jenny is safe, you two head straight for the Black Stirrup.’

  ‘What about the Lazy Acre?’ Bannock asked.

  ‘The Lazy Acre can wait. Right now it’s Miss Annie and Jenny we got to concentrate on.’

  ‘And that varmint Wilder,’ Bannock muttered between his prominent teeth.

  Having come to a decision, Comfort didn’t waste any further time. He hoisted himself into the saddle and rode off in the direction from which they had come. When he had topped the long slope he looked back long enough to see the others still gathered about the fire, their distant figures appearin
g and disappearing against the flames. The day was growing late. He waved his arm and took the trail back towards the Black Stirrup turn-off.

  Chapter Six

  The Reverend Abraham Bent drove his wagon into Cayuse Landing. He came to a halt in the town square, climbed down and, making his way to the general store, went inside to buy some supplies.

  ‘Howdy, Reverend,’ the storekeeper said.

  ‘Howdy.’

  ‘Funny you should turn up. There were some fellas askin’ if I’d seen you just yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah? Why would they be askin’ you?’

  The storekeeper shrugged. ‘I guess they knew you call by from time to time to pick up what you need. They probably been askin’ other places too.’

  The reverend thought quickly.

  ‘What can I be gettin’ you?’ the storeman said.

  Bent moved to the window and looked out on the street. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. Coming down the street were four men he recognized as some of Wilder’s boys, and leading the way was Carl Sabin. They passed by the store and, walking a little further, came up to his wagon. They stopped to peer inside. The reverend turned back to the storekeeper.

  ‘Forget those supplies for now,’ he said. ‘Is there a back way out of here?’

  The storeman was hesitant, but then something in the reverend’s manner persuaded him.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘It’s this way.’

  He held up a corner of the counter; Bent dipped under and went through a curtained alcove into a storeroom. At the back a door stood partly open.

  ‘You ain’t seen me,’ the reverend said.

  Without pausing to explain further, he slipped through into sunlight. The back of the store opened on to a patch of dusty grass beyond which a narrow path led past a few tired looking frame buildings into some trees. Quickly, the reverend made his way down the track and into their shelter, where he stopped to think. Maybe he was being foolish but the combination of the storeman’s words and what he had seen through the window of the shop made him suspicious. He had seen something of Sabin and had heard stories about him. If Sabin and the others were looking for him, it meant trouble, and he had already seen what Wilder had done to Bannock’s cabin. He had helped Bannock and his friend Comfort, spent time in their company. That in itself would be enough to make him a marked man, if Wilder knew about it.

  The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Wilder was out to get him. If that was the case, there was only one thing to do. He must throw in his lot with Bannock and Comfort. But there was the question of his wagon. He cursed himself for having driven into Cayuse Landing. He should have followed his first inclination to make camp outside the town. But in that case he wouldn’t have been made aware that Sabin was looking for him. He would have been a sitting duck.

  He could abandon the wagon, but he was loath to do so. Shadows were gathering around the trees. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was already quite late. He resolved to wait until night had fallen and then attempt to retrieve the wagon. It would be risky. Wilder’s men might have the wagon under observation but he doubted it. They wouldn’t be bothered to invest the time and patience it would involve. It wasn’t their style. They would probably be down at the Crystal Arcade most of the night, getting drunk, confident in their ability to catch up with him at any time now that they knew he was around. He might be wrong. He might have made a bad miscalculation. But he was going to take the chance.

  Comfort rode hard until darkness advised caution. The night was dense and he feared he had ridden past the cut-off he had been told led to the Black Stirrup. He continued to look for the faded trail but eventually, realizing he was not likely to find it, he turned his horse and proceeded in what he felt was the general direction. As he rode he went over the events of the day and was surprised at how anxious he felt about Miss Annie. He began to suspect that he might be going the wrong way and wished he had brought Bannock along with him. At least the oldster was familiar with the country.

  He came to the conclusion that it might be wiser to wait till the dawn and find the cut-off where he might be able to pick up the lone rider’s sign. He began to rehearse all the reasons why it was unlikely that the rider was Miss Annie. It was a hunch but he had nothing better to go by. He knew that there was no point in going on but he was reluctant to stop.

  Then, just as he was about to call a halt, he thought he saw a faint glimmer in the distance. It was barely visible at first but as he got a little closer it became obvious to him that it was the glow of a campfire. His pulse quickened. Who would be out on the range at this time of night? He scarcely hoped that it might be Miss Annie. Whoever it was, he needed to take care.

  He continued to move forward. At one point the ground dipped and he lost sight of the faint glow but then, as he topped the shallow depression, he saw it again. The night was quiet and sounds carried. He heard the snicker of a horse and then, fearful of his own horse making a noise, drew to a halt and slid from the leather. He hobbled the animal and took off his boots before resuming, walking silently and all the time straining his eyes in order to perceive and avoid any obstacles. The sky was cloudy and it was difficult to see but the fire glow was an unmistakable beacon. When he was close he drew his six-gun in readiness.

  Now he could make out a few dim features of the landscape. The fire was built in a hollow, protected on the side away from him by a few bushes where he could just make out the dim shadowy form of a horse. To the side he could discern a vague shape which he guessed was somebody wrapped in a blanket. He took another few steps and then stopped. He was about as close as he dared to go without disturbing either the figure in the blanket or the horse. He was lucky that the wind blew towards him or he might have skittered the horse already. For a moment he hesitated, then he stepped forward boldly, aiming to cover the remaining distance before the person, whoever it was, could react.

  He hadn’t taken two steps when he felt something catch at his legs and before he could do anything to prevent it, he went tumbling forwards. He hit the ground heavily and his gun was knocked from his grasp. At the same moment he heard the sound of movement behind him and the sharp click of a rifle.

  ‘I got you plumb in my sights,’ a voice said, ‘so don’t try and make a move.’

  It was a female voice.

  ‘Annie!’ he said. ‘It’s me. Will Comfort.’

  He heard a gasp. ‘Turn over so I can see you there.’

  He rolled over, his arms spread out. He could now see the woman holding the rifle which was pointed at his chest.

  ‘Will!’ she breathed.

  At that moment she seemed to wilt and took a step backwards. Comfort was quickly on his feet; he stepped to her side and took her in his arms as she released her hold on the rifle. It clattered to the ground.

  ‘Annie,’ he said. ‘Thank heaven I found you.’

  She looked up at him and in the glow of the fire he could see relief and joy written across her features.

  ‘Will Comfort,’ she said. ‘You’d be about the last person I’d expect to see out here.’

  They parted and Comfort glanced about him.

  ‘Somethin’ tripped me,’ he said.

  ‘That was my little ruse,’ she said. ‘I strung a rope across. You must be losin’ your grip. I heard you comin’ from a way off.’

  A grin lit up Comfort’s face. ‘Hell, I should have known. Annie, you’re a hell of a woman.’

  ‘Come and sit by the fire,’ Annie said. ‘I guess we both got some explainin’ to do.’

  Comfort continued to regard her. ‘I haven’t seen you look like this,’ he said.

  Annie smiled. ‘You mean not all painted up and dressed in a satin gown. Hope you ain’t disappointed.’

  ‘I sure ain’t,’ he replied.

  Annie broke into a laugh.

  ‘Go get your horse,’ she said. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

  The Reverend Bent waited among the trees, getting more and more
restless, till he figured it was late enough to make his break. With a last glance to right and left, he slipped out into the open. From the direction of the town faint sounds of activity in the Crystal Arcade were carried to his ears. Moving quickly, he walked down the narrow track by the deserted buildings and across the open space behind the store. He moved to his left, following the line of the back of the buildings which fronted on to the main street. He came to a passageway and glided down it. As he had anticipated, the alley opened on to the square where he had left the wagon. He had thought it might have been removed by Sabin, but it was still there.

  As he looked out he heard footsteps and a figure walked across the square, heading in the direction of the Crystal Arcade which seemed to be the only place still open. He pressed himself against the wall of the building as the figure passed near by and continued along the boardwalk. When it had gone he continued to wait, watching for any indication that the wagon might be under observation. The minutes ticked by. The only thing moving was a cat which wandered slowly across the open space before disappearing round a corner.

  Slowly, the reverend moved away from shelter and stepped out into the open, pausing when he had taken a few steps to take another look about him. Faint sounds of laughter floated on the breeze, coming from the Crystal Arcade. To his right he could just make out a hazy glow where the lights from the saloon spilled out from the batwings. He could make out the dim outline of horses tied to the hitch rack.

  Satisfied that he was unobserved, he crept forward again, moving quickly and silently. His horses sensed his presence and turned their heads. He heard the slight jangle of their harness. He was up to the wagon now and he paused just for a moment in order to pat the horses’ heads. Then, like a shadow, he glided up to the wagon seat and took the reins in his hand.

  As he did so he heard, in the shadows of the wagon behind him, the click of a gun being cocked. Instantly his hand dropped to his side and he spun round, firing into the darkness as a roar split his ears and a bullet went flying past his head. He leaned sideways, firing again, and heard a gasp of pain. The horses were pulling at the traces; the reverend instinctively flicked the reins and the wagon lurched forward, rapidly gaining momentum as it rattled down the empty street away from the Crystal Arcade. The reverend heard another groan and then, to his rear, the noise of something dropping from the wagon.