Conagher (1969) Read online

  He was a lonerhe had always been a loner. He was as covered with spines a s any porcupine. He was cantankerous an d edgy. Outwardly easy-going, he shie d away from people, wary of the trap s surrounding people that could lead t o trouble. Yet once in trouble, he knew of n o other way than to fight it out to a finish.

  Conagher had worked too hard to o many times to like a thief or a vandal wh o would steal or destroy the efforts of othe r men. Maybe in the last analysis what the y said of him was true, that he didn't give a damnabout himself or those who got i n his way. He did have a few principles, an d he had not thought much about them.

  They were few, they were simple, the y were his. And he lived by them.

  He swung his feet to the floor an d fumbled for his socks. He would have t o stay put long enough to do some laundry , he decided, looking at a sock. He pulled i t on, and then the other, tugged on hi s boots, and stamped into them.

  He reached for his gunbelt, slung i t about his hips, and went to the door.

  The bullet struck the door jamb , scattering splinters, and he jerked back s o sharply he almost fell. Wheeling around , he ran for his Winchester.

  The door was standing open now, bu t there was no other sound from outside. He glanced at the place where the bullet ha d hit, and then from well back in the roo m he knelt down and followed its probabl e trajectory to a low hill a good four hundre d yards away. Back in the shadows of th e interior of the bunk house, he studied tha t hill. Then he moved farther back to th e second window, which was well towar d the back of the building. As he thought , the view from that window was obscure d by the corner posts of the corral and it s watering trough.

  There was no sound from the house.

  The horses were quiet in the corral.

  Moving around, he studied the view fro m the two windows on the opposite side o f the bunk house.

  Was this an all-out attack? Or was it th e work of one disgruntled enemy?

  Where was Johnny McGivern? Wher e were the Old Man and Leggett? Then h e remembered: he had sent McGivern int o the mountains to recruit Chip Euston i f possible.

  The windows on the far side of the bun k house looked toward the stable and to th e open range beyond, but Conn distruste d what he saw. The plain out there looke d too level and innocent; there could be dip s and hollows that could hide the body of a man. He had a hunch that was the idea: f irst, the shot from the other side, then h e was to try to get out on the far side, an d when well out of the window he would b e killed.

  He moved restlessly from window t o window. That man out there on the grass , if there was one, had better be a goo d Indian, because he was going to have t o wait . . . and wait.

  Conagher liked the look of the corra l post and the trough. It was the best cover , but for the time being he would simpl y watch and wait.

  Nothing moved out there. The bun k house was strongly built and could stand a long attack if necessary. As yet he had no t fired a shot, and they might believe he wa s dead. They had shot as he started to leav e the door, and he had fallen back out o f sight. If they did believe it they woul d soon come to investigate.

  The floor of the bunk house wa s puncheon and did not squeak, so the y could not hear any movements within. A s low half-hour passed. He poured a cup o f coffee from the pot that sat on the stove. I t was strong and scalding, but it taste d good.

  He was in no hurry. Conn Conaghe r had lived through too many range wars , too many Indian troubles to hurry. He knew how those men felt out there in th e open. They had taken up their position s before daylight, and they had now bee n waiting three hours or more. During al l that time they had had a chance to fire onl y once.

  The night had been cold, but the chil l was leaving the air now, and it would b e getting warm out there. No doubt the y had water, but he had shelter, coffee, an d plenty of ammunition. Let 'em wait.

  Nevertheless, he went from window t o window, always remaining well back in th e room where there was less chance of bein g seen. There was a limit to patience, unles s you were an Indian, or Conn Conagher.

  Suddenly he saw movement, or rathe r the shadow of movement beyond th e corral. Somebody had crept along th e ground close to the corral on the opposit e side, and was nearing a post at the corne r identical with the one Conn had planne d to use for cover. From the window wher e he now watched he could not see th e crawler, but he could see tiny puffs of dus t from his movements. There was a chanc e that when he reached the end of the corral , with the protection of the post and th e buttressing posts that strengthened th e corners, he would rise to a standin g position. And when he did he would sho w a portion of his body between the poles o f the corral.

  Conagher took a quick run around th e windows, glancing out, and then cam e back. Again he saw a tiny puff of dust. He eased the window up, and it made n o sound. Carefully, he took aim at th e opening that seemed to offer the bes t chance. He took up the slack on th e trigger, set his sight picture on a point o f the gap nearest the post, and waited.

  Perspiration trickled down his cheek , down his neck. The morning had grow n warmer and he was close to the stove. He held his slack and continued to wait.

  Suddenly a spot of blue showed wher e he held his aim, and he squeezed off hi s shot.

  He heard the thud of the bullet, for th e man was no more than sixty feet away.

  The thud sounded so loud that for a moment he believed he had hit one of th e poles, but then he heard the clatter of a rifle against the poles as it fell, and th e moan of a man who has been hard hit.

  It was the first shot he had fired, an d only the second shot fired since the attac k began.

  There were no answering shots, an d there was no movement. For severa l minutes he waited, moving from windo w to window, expecting an attack now ... o r would they still wait, perhaps until dark?

  Suddenly he heard a shuddering groa n from the man beyond the corral.

  You hit bad? he asked, hoping hi s voice would carry no further than th e wounded man.

  Yes, damn you!

  Well, you came askin' for it. I didn't put out no invitations .

  There was no reply, and after a bit h e said , If you want to call your friends, I'l l let 'em come get you, but the first one wh o lifts a gun gets killed .

  They won't believe you .

  That's your problem. I'll see no ma n suffer, and whoever you are, I'd advise yo u if you live through this to get yoursel f some new friends ... if they don't com e after you .

  I can't... I couldn't make 'em hear .

  The injured man's voice sounded weak , and Conagher moved to the door an d called out: ?You got a hurt man dow n here. If you want to come get him, leav e your rifles behind and come on. I'll kill th e first man who tries a shot .

  There was a long silence, then all of a sudden a voice rang out , Hold your fire!

  I'm coming down !

  The man stood up, half crouching as i f ready to fall back, but when there was n o shot he came on, slowly at first. He wa s young, curly-haired . . . Conagher ha d heard of him. Scott, his name was, a ne w recruit.

  He ain't turned sour yet , Conaghe r said . There's a chance for him .

  He spoke to himself, but he said it lou d enough for the wounded man to hear, if h e was conscious. Conagher's shot probabl y had gone through his body side to side , but that was only a guess. When he ha d fired he thought he saw the tips of th e cartridges in the man's belt just under hi s aiming point, but he could not be sure.

  Scott was coming on down the slope. He had slowed some more, but he was walkin g along.

  The boy's got sand , Conagher said , speaking aloud again , and he's got som e show-oflf in him, too. He's taking this like a big Injun .

  Scott had reached the wounded ma n now, and he stood up straight . Yo u inside! I can't carry this man! He'd di e before we'd gone any distance. He's gutshot , and bad .

  Was it a trick? Conagher wasn't worrie d about tricks. Those that he hadn't use d himself had been used on him . A
ll right , kid, bring him on inside .

  You want me to drop my gunbelt ?

  You keep your gun. And if you fee l lucky, grab for it. I'll not kill any man wh o isn't packing iron .

  Scott picked up the wounded man an d carried him to the bunk-house door , brought him inside, and put him dow n gently on a bunk.

  The wounded man was Hi Jackson, on e of the two men Conagher had encountere d at Horse Spring station. Blood soaked th e lower part of his shirt and the front of hi s pants around the belt. The bullet, a s Conagher has surmised, had gone in at on e side and out the other, and it was an ugl y wound.

  Scott's face was pale. Evidently he ha d not seen much blood before, and now i t was on his own shirt and hands.

  You can wash up outside the door , Conagher said , if you want to chance it .

  Scott glanced at him . You must b e Conagher. You don't think much of us, d o you ?

  A bunch of damn two-bit thieves tha t would rustle an old man's cows? No, I don't think much of you. If Smoke Parnel l had the guts of a mouse he'd get out an d earn himself a living instead of robbing ol d men .

  The boy flushed, and Conagher studie d him coldly . No, kid, if you want to know , I don't see anything a damn bit excitin g about what you're doin' now. I don't thin k it takes nerve, and I don't think it's romantic, like some folks seem to think.

  The outfit you're tied up with are a bunc h of dry-gulchin' thieves .

  Scott turned to go . You better do som e thinkin', boy , Conagher said . You loo k like you had the makings, and it took san d to come down here after this man. Look a t your hole card, kid, and quit this bunch .

  They're my friends .

  They were his friends, too. The y knowed him a lot longer than you have , but who came after him? And who'd com e after you? Kid, it's just pure luck tha t you're standin' here talkin' with m e instead of lyin' on that bunk, gut-shot .

  Can you do anything for him ?

  Why the hell should I? He was comin' a fter me when he got it. But I will, kid, I will because I'm a damn fool, if I can fin d the time while I'm standin' off you r friends .

  Conagher moved back, watching th e windows . Your friends are waitin' unti l dark when the lot of them can come dow n here and jump me. Well, I've got som e money here, boy, and I'll bet you the stac k that I take at least two more, and likel y three, and you can be one of them .

  Scott stood still, his face still pale, ange r fighting with indecision . You can sta y here if you like , Conagher said , an d mind your friend, if friend he is .

  You'd trust me ?

  Not a damn bit. If you made a wron g move I'd shoot you dead in your tracks.

  But you're better off down here than ou t there. You got a chance, kid. You'd bette r take it .

  I ... I can't. I'd be a traitor. I'd be?

  A traitor to them? All right, boy , you've had your say, now get out and ge t on back up the hill, but when you com e down again, you better be using that gun , because I'm going to be aiming for you r guts .

  You're a hard man, Conagher .

  This here's a hard country. But it's a good country, Scott, and it'll be better a s soon as we hang or shoot a few mor e thieving skunks .

  His face white to the lips, Scott wen t out. He hesitated, then started the lon g walk up the hill. Conagher watched hi m go, knowing how long and hard a walk th e boy was taking. He was going back to hi s outlaw companions, when deep dow n inside he knew he shouldn't. He was goin g back out of misplaced loyalty.

  Suddenly Conagher shouted , Scott , you tell Smoke Parnell that if he has th e guts of a jack rabbit he'll come down her e and we'll shoot it out, man to man. He's supposed to be gun-handy. Me, I'm just a cow puncher .

  When Scott got over the crest, Pet e Casuse, Tile Coker, and Smoke Parnel l were waiting for him . Took you lon g enough , Smoke said . What happened t o Hi ?

  He's been shot in the belly. It's prett y bad, I guess .

  Tough, but while Conagher's carin' f or him he ain't watchin' for us ?

  Curly Scott looked at him, the n repeated what Conagher had said.

  I heard him, Parnell said carelessly , an' why should I be a fool? We got hi m right where we want him, and come dar k we'll go in after him .

  Curly Scott dropped to the ground. He wished he was anywhere but here. He ha d seen that man down there. He wa s unshaven and down at heel, he was no kid , and he was alone, but there was somethin g about him . . .

  That's a tough man down there , h e said quietly , and we still don't kno w where Leggett and Tay are .

  Hell, they've quit! They've taken ou t durin' the night. That damn fool dow n there is fighting for a brand that's qui t him .

  Conn Conagher, with occasional glance s from the window, cleaned up the gunsho t and bandaged the man as well a s he could with what was at hand.

  He looked toward the house. There ha d been no sign of life over there. Maybe the y had left him. Maybe they had pulled ou t while he was asleep. Well, no matterh e wasn't quitting. Maybe he was just to o dumb to quit.

  Chapter 10

  THE wounded man was muttering , and suddenly he asked for water.

  Conn brought it to him in the long handle d drinking gourd and held it fo r him while he drank.

  Hi Jackson looked up at him . I'm i n pretty bad shape, ain't I ?

  I'd say so.

  You're Conagher ?

  Uh-huh.. . . The kid brought you i n Scott .

  He's . . . he's a good boy. He ought t o go home .

  Then Jackson lay quiet, breathin g heavily. He'd lost a lot of blood, an d Conagher didn't think he had much time.

  I got to leave you pretty quick. Whe n it's dark your outfit will be down here afte r me .

  You ain't goin' to make it, Conagher. y ou know that, don't you ?

  I know nothing of the kind. But if I don't make it, they will be buryin' four o r five of your boys with me. They didn't pick on no pilgrim. I've been through thi s a time or two .

  Shadows stretched out from the house , gathered in the lee of the bunk house.

  Now . . . soon there would be no mor e time.

  He filled a cup with the black coffee an d sipped it while making his rounds of th e windows. Then he stuffed his pockets wit h shells, glanced again at the wounded man , and edged over to the window.

  Again he looked toward the ranc h house. Where were Tay and Leggett?

  Suddenly he glimpsed a shadow, th e shadow of a running man. There was n o time for a shot, no time for anything.

  He went out the window and made it t o the corral corner in a long, swift dive. A m an moved near the far corner, and as h e moved a rifle shattered the stillness an d the running man fell sprawling. Instantl y there were three more shots, all of the m from the house!

  Another man was down, and Con n could hear somebody swearing.

  Whoever was in the house had wisel y held their fire until the attackers expecte d no danger from that quarter. Two me n were down, and the one in plain sight wa s dead.

  Crouched at the corner of the corral , Conn saw a flicker of movemen t something white. He looked again, an d saw that it was a paper tied to a tumbleweed, another message like th e one he had found before.

  It was within reach, and he put out a hand and cautiously untied it. It was to o dark to read it, and he thrust it carefull y down into his pocket.

  The dusk was deceiving. Straining hi s eyes, he tried to make out some furthe r movement, but there was none.

  In another minute he heard a whisper.

  Tile? Back out . . . we're pullin' away .

  There was a shuffling movement o f someone crawling along the ground. Con n had his gun up and could have scored a sure hit, but what was the use?

  If he fired now they would surely retur n his fire and he would likely get hit.

  If they were pulling out, let them go.

  There was no point in it if they wer e quitting. Smoke Parnell had never ha d more than nine or ten men that Con n knew of, though there could be m
or e . . . and he had lost three here today.

  Conn stayed right where he was , and after a while he heard the drummin g of hoofs, growing fainter in the distance.

  By now it was completely dark, and h e went back to the bunk house and stirre d up the fire in the stove. Through the ligh t from the open door he saw that Hi Jackso n was dead.

  He struck a match and lighted one of th e lamps, keeping away from the windows i n case one of the outlaws had lingere d behind, though he did not expect it o f them. After all, they had nothing at stake.

  They could ride off?and attack again a t another time, if they had the stomach fo r it.

  He stood for a moment, reluctant at las t to leave the bunk house. When he did, i t was just as Tay and Leggett emerged fro m the ranch house.

  Conagher? It was Tay speaking.

  You made a fight .

  I tried.

  Most of the time we weren't situated t o get in even one shot, and then we got ou r chance .

  You broke their backs. You took th e heart out of them/' Conagher said. He pushed his hat back . I'm hungry an d tired, Tay, and there's a dead man in th e bunk house. The one Scott brought in .

  Who was it?

  Hi Jackson.

  Too bad, Tay said . He rode for m e for a while. He was a good hand, but h e took to riding with bad company .

  Leave him to me , Leggett said . Yo u done your share, Conn .

  Conagher walked back to the house wit h Tay and sat at the table while the bos s filled a cup with coffee for him, and set ou t bread, some cold meat, and a quarter of a n apple pie.

  You must be starved , Tay said.

  Conn ate without talking, and Tay stoo d at the window watching Leggett carry th e dead man out to the hill.

  A man isn't long for this world, but h e should come to something better tha n that. Ever think of the here-after, Conn ?

  Not much. I figure it's like the Plain s Indians saya happy hunting ground.

  Leastways, that's how I'd like it to be. A p lace with mountains, springs, runnin g streams, and some green, grassy bank s where a man can lie with his hat over hi s eyes and let the bees buzz .