He was a tall, lean man, his face burnt to a rich mahogany by many New Mexico suns. He stood just to one side of the window, slipping cartridges into his gun methodically, the leaden clunks the only sound in the cabin. His eyes were mere slits as they stared intently at the outside surroundings and his movements were unconscious, the act of a man who'd done such a thing hundreds of times. Dade Kemp had reloaded a six-gun so many times that he could nearly do it in his sleep. Indeed, there had been a few times when he'd been so weary that reloading the gun was done in a trance-like state.
He wasn't tired this time, but alert; but tired or alert Sheriff Dade Kemp was a dangerous man. The four men who'd trapped him in the log cabin the Double-8 used as a line shack would know before this was over that Dade Kemp was no pilgrim, that this was a man who'd had crossed the mountains, and peeked behind all the bushes. There were no tricks that Kemp hadn't heard of or that had not been tried on him before.
He'd come to investigate a claim made by three small ranchers and a farmer that the Double-8 had dammed the creek. That left their cattle without water and it meant none of them could survive long. Kemp hadn't reached the dam but he saw the dry creek bed and that was evidence enough for him. The agreement reached a year ago forbade that sort of thing but old Jeb Colter was not a man to hold much faith in a piece of paper. He'd signed it, but only at the insistence of his beautiful and persuasive daughter, Laura Colter.
She was a demure, soft-spoken lady most of time, educated in Boston, and with all the and properness that a Boston lady could ever hope to have. It amused Kemp that old man Colter had sent his daughter away for refinement and culture, then brought her back to one of the roughest, most uncivilized places in the country. However, it was good she'd returned when she did, for her insistence that her father sign what she called the "peace treaty'' had averted a range war. She was a lady absolutely opposed to violence.
Kemp wondered how it was that her stand against violence held up under her engagement and coming marriage to one of the most violent men Kemp had ever met. Rafe Scallon was smooth and deep-voiced, with all the proper manners, the crackly, starched white shirts and darkly handsome features needed to set a woman's heart a-flutter. Kemp knew Scallon was an attractive contrast to the rough, unshaven, often dirty men who lived in the territory, including himself. Apparently Rare Scallon, with his handsome face and cavalier manners, knew exactly what a woman like Laura Colter wanted.
Kemp had known Scallon before he'd made himself reasonably well-to-do. He knew the man's money had come from rustled cattle, a lot of them, and further, that Rafe Scallon was not out of that business. Word had a way of getting around but without proof there was little Kemp could do about it. Kemp had once traced a herd to the Double-8 range but could not find the herd. Kemp also knew of a murder done by Scallon, but again, there was no real evidence and the man had been cleared of the charge long ago.
Kemp would not forget, though.
With Scallon as Colter's manager, Kemp felt sure there would be more rustled cattle in the area. There was a market south of the border now, as well as in Colorado. Both the Indians and the soldiers were clamoring for more beef. Large herds could disappear faster than scared deer into a thicket. There was seldom any real cooperation with the law from the buyers of the stolen herds, not even from those buyers who rode U.S.Cavalry mounts and wore blue uniforms. They were more interested in keeping Indians on a reservation and that meant keeping them, as well as the troops, supplied with beef. They wanted beef, no matter the source. Many of the honest cattlemen were talking seriously of hiring guns just to watch their herds and catch rustlers.
Kemp peeked out the window, then jerked back as he saw a rifle whip up. The shot boomed, and the slug whined through the open window and smashed into the wall behind him. He did not return the fire, but waited. He knew they'd get impatient and impatient men make mistakes; and with a man like Dade Kemp, it only took one mistake.
Noon came and went, and he ignored the invitations to come out and surrender. He knew they meant to kill him. He'd shot several times at them but they'd stayed carefully out of range of his six gun. He knew the longer they waited, the more chance he had of surviving. If they waited until night, he knew his chances went up significantly. But he did not think they'd wait that long. They were already whiskey-loud and didn't sound like patient men.
It was late afternoon when the men decided they'd had enough. They argued among themselves some, two men wanting to wait for darkness, one man who just wanted to leave, and the leader, a big, burly man named "Whiskey" Yates who insisted they burn Kemp out. There was argument against it because the cabin was the only one around for miles and it meant rebuilding it before winter. But the big man had his way for there were not many men in the Territory who would argue with Yates about anything. He was a violent man, a man most other men avoided if possible. Yates laid out his idea to the men, using a stick to draw the plan in the dirt.
He nodded at one man and said, "Tyler, you and Mick get to that little rock-pile, here." He pointed in the dirt at the spot representing the pile, then turned to another man. "Will, you get as close to the front as you can. Keep the rifle ready and pot him when he runs out. He'll come smokin', so you be ready."
The big man squatted and pointed to the shack. "I'm goin' to sneak upon the blind side here while you boys are pourin' lead into every nook and cranny in that place. He'll be huggin' the floor so you'll torch the place, then wait there. He'll either jump out the window on the side where Tyler and Mick are at, or come charging out the door." He scratched his beard then continued, "I think he'll come out the door, guns blazing." The man grinned at the thought, then added, "Me and Will can get him in a cross fire, me from the back, Will the front."
He stared at each member of the group and asked, "Any questions?" There was no sound from the men. Yates grunted, got to his feet and said, "Let's move into position. Start shootin' when Will here gives a hoot."
One man held his hand up in a little wave of protest and said, "Whiskey, I ain't complainin', mind you, and I ain't questionin' your plan here, but ain't you takin' Dade Kemp a little light? That ain't no school mar'm in there." The man called Will had spoken reluctantly. He'd decided not to speak, then changed his mind. He knew Kemp, had heard all the stories and had seen the man in action once. Kemp was no fool, and it bothered him that Yates didn't seem to think much of Kemp's chances.
Yates glared at the man, sneered, then stomped off, refusing to answer. He knew what Kemp was capable of, perhaps better than any man there. He'd made the mistake of throwing Kemp through a window once. The man had returned and when Yates woke up he was in jail with a sore head. He'd paid a ten dollar fine but he hadn't gone looking for Dade Kemp. However, he had promised himself to one day even the score and this was the day. He hadn't told Scallon, but he'd have taken this job for free.
Inside, Kemp was working steadily. He was standing on a chair placed on the bunk and was digging through the plank roof. He'd started three hours before in a crack, using his knife. Now, the hole was nearly two feet wide. Another half foot and he would be able to crawl out onto the roof. It slanted towards the back of the cabin, and was pretty steep. He hoped he could manage to keep from suddenly sliding off. Finally the hole was wide enough. As he pulled himself through, rifle fire came, from the front and one side. It was heavy fire and Kemp knew they weren't just shooting for the noise. They were covering someone. They knew firing into the cabin was useless since the heavy logs would absorb the bullets, so the only reason for a heavy barrage like that was to cover someone sneaking up on the cabin from the opposite side. Kemp grinned as he rolled onto the roof. They probably were going to do what he'd have done long ago: set the place on fire. He stretched out flat on the roof, hanging onto the edge of the hole with one hand, gun in the other. He released his grip slowly, waiting to see whether he slid. down or not. He didn't slide; so he moved his hand out, his palm flat. He put away his gun into the holster, slipped the leather thong over the hammer and put his other hand out, then inched his way down the roof.
The drop to the ground was slight and he brushed himself off, then sneaked to the edge of the cabin and peered around one corner. There, flattened against one side was Yates, a man he remembered having trouble with once and one who had a reputation as a rustler. The man waved at someone, then bent to a small pile of brush at the base of the cabin. He fumbled in his pocket and was about to strike the match when Kemp stepped up close behing him.
"Kind of a warm day for a fire, Yates." The sound of Kemp's voice, soft and low, was followed by the distinct click of the hammer of a revolver being eared back.
Yates jerked his head up at the sound, frozen, staring at Kemp as though he were seeing a ghost. Suddenly, he yelped and dropped the match as it burned down to his finger.
Kemp stood the man against the wall and stripped him of a gun and a knife. He laid the barrel of his gun gently against Yates' ear and said softly, "You know I'm a man of my word, Yates. You call that man in front over here. Tell him you run out of matches. If you don't, I'm going to give you the worst ear-ache you ever had, 'cause this ear is going to be missing."
"Don't do nuthin', Kemp. Please. I'll do anything you want."
The big man turned slowly, took a deep breath and yelled, "Will!" He waited, then yelled again. "Will! You hear me?"
A voice answered cautiously, "What's up, boss?"
"Sneak on over here and bring some more matches! Mine are all wet."
There was a moment of silence, then Will called out, "Tyler, get over here and watch this door! Leave Mick to watch the window."
Yates and Kemp moved to the rear of the cabin and waited. Soon, a hunched figure came running across the clearing at the side of the cabin. He'.d just reached the side of the cabin when Yates stepped out, propelled by a shove from Kemp.
He looked at Yates, then at Kemp, and groaned. "Yates, you low-down yellow-belly!"
Kemp shoved Yates to the ground and said, "Don't move and don't make even a whisper. I ain't in the mood to tolerate any foolishness."
He placed his gun to Will's ear and said, "Going to tell you the same thing I told your boss. I'm going to shoot my gun once, then you're going to yell out to those two that I've escaped but that you and Yates have got me. If you don't, then I'm going to shoot twice more. The second shot takes your ear off. Third shot puts you on the ground beside this here cabin."
The man swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. The shot sounded behind his head and he flinched, then called out as he felt the hard muzzle rest against the back of his ear, "Tyler! Mick! You boys get over here, now! We got Kemp. He got out, but we got one slug in him"
Kemp moved the two men back into the shadows at the rear of the cabin, grinning at the other man's ingenuity. He made them lie down, then said, "I'm going to be glancing at you two now and then. First move I see, I shoot. I'm not a man to take chances and anything that moves, gets shot."
The two men came running past the front of the cabin, guns drawn. They slid around the corner, and one called, "Will? Where..."
Kemp leaned around the corner with his gun extended. "Drop 'em or fight, gentlemen."
The man named Tyler moved instantly, his moves almost unconscious. He knew that to surrender meant a noose for him. He dove and rolled, firing two quick shots as he did. His partner ducked back around the edge of the cabin.
Kemp snapped a quick shot at Tyler, missed, then ducked back behind the cabin. The two men on the ground were peering intently at him. Yates was grinning.
Kemp stared hard at the men, then said, "1 sure hate to do what I'm going to do, but your friends bought you this." Before either man could comprehend, Kemp brought up his gun and fired two quick shots. Yates screamed and grabbed his leg, and the other man rolled, moaning, clutching his leg. 'I've got little business to tend to and there ain't time to tie you boys or to watch you. Reckon you'll not get far, now."
Kemp moved to the other side of the cabin, sneaked a glance around it and saw both men running for the small cluster of trees. Kemp stepped out, held the Colt out in front, gripped rock-steady with both hands, then slowly squeezed the trigger. The boom of the pistol rolled across the trees followed instantly by a scream of pain from one of the men. The man dropped his gun, stopped quickly and retrieved it, then glanced back as Kemp. The other man did not stop. Kemp fired another shot and saw it kick up dirt just in front of the man he'd hit as the man turned and ran.
Kemp ran after them, slipping shells into his gun as he jogged. He made the trees, then turned to his left as he heard the snort of a horse.
The two men had reached the horses when Kemp stepped out. The man he'd hit earlier was on his horse and wheeling it around and the other was just reaching for his horse's bridle. The man reaching for the bridle saw Kemp and dropped the bridle of his horse like it was a hot poker. His gun fell barrel first into the dirt and he threw his hands up in the air.
"Don't shoot, Kemp! I'm done."
Kemp called to the other man who had regained his seat and, although reeling in the saddle, was urging his horse ahead. "Pull up or I'll drop you out of that saddle!"
Either the man did not hear him, or he was past caring. Kemp lined up his gun on the man, both hands wrapped tightly around the butt of the gun, his aim careful. The instant the man's shoulder fitted into his sight, he pulled the trigger. The bullet spun the man sideways and threw him out of the saddle.
Kemp brought the two men back to the cabin. He bandaged the three with their own shirts, then made Tyler help Yates and Will into a saddle. He had to leave the man he'd shot from his horse in the cabin as he was too weak from loss of blood to be moved. He would send someone back after he'd brought the others into town.
He grinned most of the way to town as he listened to the other two cuss Yates all the way there.
PART TWO
Kemp rode out to the Double-8 ranch the next morning. It was close to noon when he arrived, and already the sweat trickled clown his back in rivulets, beaded his brow and darkened his shirt under the arms. It was going to be another blistering hot day. Worse, it was going to be another day without water for three ranchers' cattle, which meant some cattle would die soon.
He rode into the yard slowly, eyes flitting here and there, wary, not trusting his surroundings, in spite of his long relationship with old man Colter. He trusted the man, knew that he was of the old school, that his word was his bond and that he'd stick by it. He was a hard man, but Kemp had never known the man to be dishonest or to do a mean thing. By rights, the water did run across his land, did originate on his land, and it was a hot, dry summer. The man would share his water, but not at the expense of his own herd.
Kemp stepped out of the saddle, flipped the reins around the twisted post, and walked onto the porch. "Hello, the house!"
He heard voices, then "Door's open! Come on in."
Kemp entered, the cool of the house making him smile. The Colter ranch was not particularly notable in any respect except for its largeness, and perhaps its sparseness. It was as utilitarian as a prospector's shack, the only furniture present being those articles considered absolutely necessary. He hung his hat on a rack and walked into a huge room. A large table was in the center, used as a dining table for all the hands. Old man Colter always insisted that his men eat in the house with him, He liked sitting at the table swapping lies, listening to all the troubles and complaints of the day, giving out suggestions, and more often, commands. It was a time for conducting business as well as a social time. Kemp had eaten at the table on many occasions.
"Kemp! Pull up a chair, boy!" The old man was resting in a huge leather-covered chair, his feet propped up on a small table. He had his usual pipe gripped in his teeth, a pipe he bragged he'd had the day he rode into Texas from Louisiana, following the dream of free land like so many others. Kemp took the man's hand and as they shook, he nodded at Laura and Scallon. They were sitting near each other across from the old man.
"You're looking as fit as ever, son."
"Thanks, Jeb. Reckon the sun dried up all the juices in me. I'll be the same old piece of leather fifty years from now."
"Mr. Kemp, what brings you our way?" Laura was smiling but it was clear that she did not like Dade Kemp. The stories she'd heard from her youth, and continuing as a young woman, had long ago convinced her that Dade Kemp was one of the monsters of the earth, a throwback, a man belonging with savages and not among civilized people.
Jeb Colter bristled at her. "Laura, that ain't a proper question. Me and Dade go away back, honey, and he ain't got to have a reason for comin' to my house, ever." Laura started to reply, then thought better of it. One thing she'd' learned about her father long ago was that there were certain things he would not budge on. One was his friends. If he liked a man, that man could do no wrong. If the man was an old friend, like the man Kemp, then it was even worse. There existed a camaraderie between the two men, something visible to all and Laura had always resented it. It angered her that a man of violence like Dade Kemp could hold her father's confidence and could command his respect.
Kemp said quickly, "Never mind, Jeb. Reckon I might as well state my business, since it is official."
Scallon spoke for the first time, his voice deep, resonant and rich with power. Kemp was always amazed at the man's voice, marveling at the hypnotic quality of it."Kemp, if it's about the water you might as well forget it. You know how dry things have been. We have to have that water."
Kemp ignored the man, looking instead at Colter. "Jeb, there's three ranches downstream that are going to lose every cow they got if they don't get some water. Now, I have no power to make you open that dam, but I'm speaking as a friend. Don't let those men go under, Jeb. They're good men and the Territory needs them."
"Those men should take up dirt-farming, Kemp!" Scallon's voice boomed across the room, echoing as it bounced against the walls. Scallon was leaning forward, his eyes hard and the trace of a smile on his face. He exuded power and confidence. "I've no use for men who haven't the sense to sell a piece of land that hasn't a drop of water on it. They've been offered a fair price for the land, every one of 'em."
"Scallon talking for you now, Jeb?" Kemp deliberately ignored Scallon.
Colter took his feet off the table, frowning at Kemp. He removed his pipe and said, "Dade, you know how I operate. I give a man a job and it's his. He runs the show, gives the orders, and makes the decisions. I told Rafe that he could have a free hand."
Dade nodded. "I know how you operate, Jeb, and I've always admired you for giving your foreman his head. But to let those ranchers get enough water for the cattle and for Eggers to water his crops, well, that can't hurt your operation but it'll maybe save theirs."
Colter was silent, chewing thoughtfully on his pipe. Finally, he said, "All right, Dade. But, only for old time's sake. Any man but you asked it, I'd have run him off."
Scallon spoke quickly, sensing defeat. "Jeb, I thought I had..."
"Shut up, Rafe! I give you a free hand, and I reckon I took it back for a couple minutes. Git up there to the north pasture and have the boys open the gate. Leave it run until this time tomorrow." The old man turned to Kemp and said, "That's it, Dade. I won't risk my operation for men who didn't have the good sense to sell out when they had the chance."
"1 can't fault you, Jeb. Reckon I'll be leaving, now." He started to go, then looked at Scallon. His eyes narrowed, and he said, "You might be interested to know that I ran into four men yesterday. Tyler, Yates, man called Will Taggart, and little Mick Isley. Isley died before we could get him into town. Case of lead poisoning. Yates and Will Taggart got some lead in them, too." Kemp smiled at the man and added, "They're in jail if you want to look in on them."
Scallon's face was flushed. He said softly, his voice a bare whisper,"Why would I want to see them? I hardly know the men."
Kemp stared at ,the man for a long moment, grinned and replied, Yeah. Reckon you barely know me, too, and that's too bad. Once you get to know me better, you'll quit sending boys to do a man's job."
"Dade! That's a serious charge you've made, man." Colter was sitting upright now, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Jeb, I'm not making any charges. You just happened to listen in on a private conversation between me and Scallon."
Colter's face flushed with anger and he said, "I give my word on the water, but you've come in my home and spoke some hard words against my foreman, the man that' going to marry my daughter. I got to ask you to leave here, Dade."
"Just open the dam like you said, Jeb. Long enough to keep those cattle alive."
"You blood-stained man! How dare you come into this house after killing one man and shooting up others, then stand there innocent, as though you'd done no wrong, and accuse this fine man of a crime." Laura Colter's green eyes were flashing with anger and her cheeks were flushed red.
Kemp smiled at her and replied, "Maybe I should have just laid down and let them shoot me. I could have died happy, knowing that I done right in Laura Colter's eyes."
Laura's mouth opened, but Scallon said, "Kemp, just leave while you're able. That badge gives you a lot of rope, but it's getting mighty short, right here."
Kemp walked over and took his hat from the rack. "Scallon, I'll wait for you to tangle your loop one day. Reckon lots of rope is getting short around here, including yours, old son." He waved at Colter and said, "Jeb, I thank you."
Kemp stopped at the three ranches before returning to town, then at the farm which was only four miles outside the town. Water arrived while he was at the farm, and as he left, Eggars was knocking down small dams, directing water to his entire field at once. The three ranchers had all been elated until he told them the dam would be closed again the next day. They'd cursed Colter as they went frantically shouting orders for the men to chase all the cows in and to begin digging catch basins. It might be all the water they'd get until the next rain.
In town, Kemp went to his office and began packing for the trail. He'd learned that the ranchers were going to pool all their cattle within the next two weeks and drive them north to the army post. The drive would include cattle from two other ranches, and would be a sizable herd, one which would provide a temptation Rafe Scallon would not even try to resist. Kemp planned to show Scallon why he was known as the best law man in the Territory and why men who took him for granted usually only did it once.
Before he left, he stopped at the small dry goods store that served the town.
"Dade, how are you, today? You haven't been in town much lately." A tall, heavy woman stood on a short ladder stuffing a box onto a shelf. She climbed down carefully.
"Sadie, is Henry around?"
"He's in back fiddlin' with some boxes that came in on the wagon yesterday. Go on back, Dade."
Kemp walked past boxes and tools, a few saddles and some saddle stock. In the back beside an open door sat a small man, balding, wearing eye glasses.
He peered at Kemp over the top of his glasses. "Dade, good to see you, son."
Kemp shook the man's hand and said, "Henry, I haven't much time, but I need you to do a favor for me." He spent the next several minutes talking and answering questions, and when he left, the man had insisted on giving him several cans of tomatoes and some peaches, plus some Arbuckle's coffee, which had just arrived.
He was ready to leave when Laura Colter approached him on the street. He nodded and was about to continue, when she touched him on the arm. "Mr. Kemp, please wait."
"What can I do for you, Laura?"
"1 want you to answer something for me. It has been bothering me for some time." She fiddled with a handkerchief in her hand, then looked at Kemp. "Has Rafe Scallon ever killed a man?"
Kemp was surprised and he knew it registered in his face. He smiled and said, "Laura, your daddy knows the answer to that as well as I do. What does he say?"
She looked away. "He says yes. Seemed to think it was a good thing.''
"What does Scallon say?"
She looked back to Kemp again and said softly, the doubt showing in her eyes. "Rafe insists that the only time he's ever had to kill a man was once, when three Indians tried to kill him. He says he abhors violence as much as I do."
Kemp laughed. "Ask him why he carries a gun, then."
"1 have, many times. He insists that he must, that there are still Indians roaming, and that there are men who might try and kill him."
"Laura, you grew up as a kid in this country. You know that violence is a part of life here and that a man must be prepared to defend himself. Why would you begrudge someone you love the chance to keep himself alive?"
She sighed. "1 don't know. Sometimes I don't understand myself. I know that there are some men who will try and kill others, but..." She stopped, hesitant about continuing.
"But what, Laura?"
"But, there seems to be too many men like yourself who are quick to resort to violence, who seem to use the carrying of a gun as an excuse to kill."
"Laura, I have never shot a man except in self-defense or when it was absolutely necessary. I don't like to kill and hope to live to see the day when men can ride the country without having to carry a gun."
She looked wistfully at the horizon beyond the town. "Well, perhaps I have been too hard on you, Mr. Kemp."'
Kemp said, "Well, I'd sure be pleased if you'd start calling me Dade, like you used to. Since you come back from that school I been a mister. Don't seem right seeing as how I've watched you grow up, ate with your family, knew your ma before she died, and count your daddy as one of my friends"
She smiled suddenly and tears jumped to her eyes. "Yes. You have been a friend, I know. I guess I'm a bit mixed up. I learned so much in school but some of what I learned and came to believe there seems to be out of place, and is so hard to make work here."
Kemp smiled at her. "Laura, you've some good ideas and I can't fault you for hating violence. Civilized folks ought to be that way. But until civilization catches up with this part of the country it's going to take men who are rough around the edges, men like me, for example."
"You never answered my question. Do you know of anyone Rafe has killed?"
Dade was hesitant, understanding that if he spoke freely, he would likely cause Laura to never speak to him again. But he also knew there was a possibility that she would confront Scallon and that the man would come looking for him to kill him. And that would suit Dade Kemp just fine.
He said, "I knew him years ago. He was smooth then, as he is now, and once he even talked himself out of a rope. After he came close to hanging, he took to being careful. There was a couple of shootings, and he was cleared in both. One I witnessed and Scallon was in the right. A man tried to shoot him in the back. The other I heard about and word was that Scallon pushed a man almost too drunk to stand, into a fight. He let the man fumble around for his gun, then shot him. A jury called it self-defense. Then, a couple of years back there was some trouble near the border over a murder. He was cleared in that one, too."
Kemp tipped back his hat. "Laura, Rafe is a smart man, smarter than most any man I ever came across. He's got your daddy buffaloed and even you. I know he's back of all the rustling that's been done in these parts. He hired those four men to jump me the other day, too."
Laura's eyes were flashing. "1 don't believe it! I think that there is something else, that something else is making you invent all of this, that you have something against him that you aren't telling." She stood there with her hands on her hips, the picture of indignation.
Kemp raised his hand in protest. "Hold it, Laura. You've got me cornered. I reckon there is something I have against Scallon that makes me dislike him more than almost anything else he's done."
"Ah! You admit it. You actually admit it. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't heard with my own ears. I knew there was something between you and Rafe, something that made you dislike each other, and makes you hate him so."
Kemp looked long in Laura's eyes and said gently, "1 reckon I can't excuse a man like Scallon taking advantage of a woman like you, Laura. Worse, I reckon I can't take kindly to a man like him stealing a girl I've loved since she was in pigtails."
He'd finally said the thing that for years he'd kept to himself. He was grinning, for it was so easy, and it felt so good to have it out in the open now. He also knew it would have the same effect as shaking a rope in front of a racing horse would make.
Laura lost the fire in her eyes, her mouth opened slightly and understanding flooding into her mind suddenly. She colored, started to reply, then managed, "I, uh, I didn't know. I'm sorry, Dade. I am so sorry."
Kemp was still grinning. "Laura, there's nothing to be sorry about. When you've got Scallon out of your head, I'll be riding up to your house one day with a fist full of flowers."
Laura stared at him a long moment, then walked away without a word. He watched her disappear through a door way.
Suddenly, Kemp was jerked around. As he was propelled around, a gloved fist smashed across the side of his face and he staggered backwards, falling into the street. Scallon came striding forward, eager to follow up on his advantage.
This was not what Kemp had wanted but it was here and he had to fight. He knew one thing for certain. He would not let Scallon walk away from this unscathed. Kemp rolled in the street away from Scallon and quickly rose to his feet. He stood there waiting for the advancing Scallon who now had his fists up.
Kemp said quietly, "Knew you did back shootin' and I guess you like to do your fighin' from behind, too." He grinned and then added, "Let's try it from the front, old son."
Kemp moved in on the man and they began circling. Kemp knew Scallon was not a real fighter. He was a brawler, good at stomping and using his superior muscle, weight and reach on his opponents. He'd heard the stories of some of Scallon's fights and had not been impressed. But Dade Kemp had studied fighting. Once he'd decided he wanted to be a lawman, he'd studied and worked hard, learning all he could about weapons and about using his fists. He'd even picked up some rather strange notions from a Chinese railroad worker several years before. It was not something he was entirely comfortable with but he knew he could do some things with his hands and his feet that most men could not do. But the time he'd spent learning about boxing was by far the most valuable, next to his daily practice with his handgun. He'd learned about slipping a blow to one side, protecting himself and how to throw a punch that has weight and power behind it.
Dade leaned back suddenly as Scallon swung a fist in a wide arc at his head. Instantly, Kemp was inside the man's guard and hammered three hard blows to the body, then a sharp right fist driven up at the man's jaw.
Scallon staggered back, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Surprise widened his eyes and Kemp saw the first flicker of doubt flicker across the man's face. No man had ever hurt him with his fists before. He was a big man, bigger than most, and he'd taken advantage of that size and power, beating smaller men into bloody pulps. Dade was nearly six inches shorter.
Scallon moved in, cautious now, his eyes narrow slits. In the background he heard Laura yelling something but his mind was closed to everything. A red haze of rage drove him. He knew he was going to kill Dade once he got the man down.
Kemp didn't wait. He feinted a wide sweeping blow hammered a quick left jab directly into Scallon's face. Blood spurted from the big man's nose as he staggered back. Dade followed up and began a barrage of blows to Scallon's head and body. Scallon dropped to his knees and Dade could see in the man's eyes that he was out, even though his eyes were opened. Kemp moved to the side and pushed Scallon forward. The big man fell face first into the dirt.
Laura brushed past him and knelt in the dirt beside Scallon. She cradled his head in her lap, looked up at Kemp and said, "You animal! Oh, I loathe you!" She looked back to Scallon, then to the bystanders. "Please, someone bring him into the hotel."
Kemp shook himself loose, picked up his gun from the ground, broke it open and peered down the barrel. He blew into it, although there was no sign of dirt, then ejected the shells, replacing, them with fresh ones. It was like the man to think of his weapons in a time like this. Dade Kemp was careful, methodical, and lived by certain rules, one of the most important being to care for his weapons at all times, insuring that they were in good condition. He never took his horse or his guns for granted, never assumed that his gun was loaded, or clean, and never assumed that his horse would be cared for when he dropped it off in a livery. He stood and watched every time it was fed and groomed, and sometimes did it himself. These things were life and death for Dade Kemp. He understood their importance.
Kemp walked to his horse, tightened the cinch on his saddle and walked it past men standing around talking. Some asked him questions that went unanswered. He climbed into the saddle, careful not to wince at the pain in his body, slapped the reins lightly and "kissed" the horse into a slow walk.
The hills were cool, and a breeze kept his shirt billowed out. Kemp had reached a vantage point in the hills surrounding the long pasture where the cattle were to be placed as they were rounded up. He had given instructions to the cowboys guarding the herd to run at the first sign of trouble. He knew that Scallon would have given instructions to kill any riders with the herd, just to give himself extra time. Kemp could not guarantee that Scallon would hit the herd, but he felt pretty certain of it. Scallon had proven himself daring as well as greedy. Rustling these cattle would destroy the ranchers and would force them to sell their land to Colter, which, when Scallon married Laura, would belong to him one day.
Kemp was sitting against a tree on the fifth night when they struck. He was dozing in the quiet of the late evening and jumped to his feet as the first shots sounded. He saw riders, dark forms, shadowed by the night, rushing down on the herd. The cattle bolted as the raiders expected and Kemp watched as several riders rode out from the trees near the head of the herd. In a little while, they'd turn the herd in on itself, then start driving the cattle to their destination.
Kemp waited for one of the men from the camp guarding the cattle to arrive. The man came frogging his horse up the hill and slid to a stop near Kemp's camp.
"Just like you said, Mr. Kemp."
"Yeah, well you know what to do, Riley. Tell old man Dodson not to get too close, now. It shouldn't be too hard a trail to follow."
"1 was over to the camp early this evening and he's got some of the boys ready. More was due to ride in late tonight. We'll likely be a few hours behind, but we'll move fast. They been gatherin' every night now and they'll be pretty glad to know things are poppin'."
Kemp swung into the saddle and waved goodbye to the man. He'd set the trap and Scallon had stepped in. He only hoped Scallon was with the herd when they took it back. The night swallowed him as he disappeared into the trees.
Early morning found him crossing onto Double-8 range. He'd hoped Scallon would drive the cattle this way. He tugged his hat down as the sun peeked over the mountains and the orange-red lances shot its bolts at his eyes. Suddenly, he jerked on the reins and pulled the horse behind a large boulder. Several riders were heading his way, pulling a wagon. He watched as they dismounted, took out shovels and began scooping up droppings from the cattle, tossing them into the wagon. Kemp shook his head at the brilliant, but so simple ruse. As the wagon moved on slowly, several other men tied bunches of brush behind their saddles and began riding in. great sweeping movements, back and forth, erasing all signs of the cattle. Kemp understood now why the rustlers had kept the cattle drive as narrow as they had. He followed for three hours, until suddenly a small herd of cattle appeared. These cattle were driven onto the trail and then left to mill. The riders then departed and Kemp sat watching from a distance with field glasses. He put the glasses away, then stepped out of the saddle. He put his hand on his horse's rump, then brushed his hand all the way down to the leg, lifting the leg back, exposing the shoe. He dug into a pocket and removed his knife. Kemp sawed and worked until he'd cut a small notch into the shoe. He reached into a saddle bag, removed a wanted poster, turned it over and scribbled a note for the men trailing behind. It read: "Follow my horse. Notch in hoof. Don't get too close. Kemp."
He stuck the note under a small rock in the trail and left. In a short time he'd sighted the men and the wagon once more. Kemp followed it, careful to remain out of sight. He stayed with them for an hour, then moved far to one side as he noticed dust in the distance. That would be the herd, moving along at a leisurely pace, the rustlers secure in their knowledge that the trail would be hard to unravel. They'd not driven the cattle in the most likely direction, which was south, but due east, straight into the center of Double-8 range.
Kemp made a sudden decision. He pulled up his horse, dropped out of the saddle and drew a huge arrow, pointing in the direction of the herd. In huge letters, he scrawled two words: "WAIT HERE." Then, he jumped into the saddle, slapped his heels into the sides of his mustang and headed away from the direction the cattle had taken. Kemp was going to make sure that Jeb Colter was in on this. He was certain that the old man did not know of Scallon's duplicity. Jeb Colter was many things, but a rustler was not one of them.
He rode into the yard at a run, slid out of the saddle and ran into the house, not bothering to knock. Colter was in his usual place by the big open window. He seldom rode any more, his joints stiffened by arthritis, and his strength not able to last long.
"Jeb, is the buggy in the barn?"
Laura was puring her father a cup of coffee. She put the pot down hard. "What are you doing here, Mr. Kemp?"
"Laura, I don't have time to fuss with you. Jeb, is that buggy in the barn?"
"Yes. Leastways, it was the other day. I took a ride to the north pasture in it. Why? What's up, Dade? You look like you been ridin' drag for a month."
"Jeb, I'm going to get the buggy and you are taking a little ride with me. There's a big herd of cattle moving across your range right now and every one of those cows was rustled."
"Rustled, you say? Someone's stealin' Double-8 cows?"
He turned to Laura. "Where's Scallon?"
Before Laura could answer, Kemp said, "They aren't Double-8 cows, Jeb. They belong to several small ranches west of here, and I have good reason to believe Rafe Scallon is the one driving those cattle."
"Will you never cease?" Laura had moved to face Kemp.
Kemp said softly, "Laura, if I'm right, don't you think you ought to know that the man you're set to marry is a rustler? And if you refuse to look for yourself and find out later I was right, think about that."
Laura started to speak, then fell silent.
Colter said, "Dade, I reckon we been friends a good many years, and on account of that, I got to ride with you. But, son, if this proves to be false, then I want your word that you'll back off on Scallon. Every time you get around him or his name is mentioned, you bristle, and he does the same. I'll go with you, but you make me that promise."
"If Scallon isn't driving those cattle, I'll never darken your door again, and I'll not bother you over the man again. I can't promise that if he gets crosswise of the law I won't go after him. I am sworn to uphold the law in this Territory, Jeb. You know that."
"That's good enough for me, son. Now go hitch up that buggy."
"Well, it isn't good enough for me, Dade Kemp. I am going with you and if Rafe is not there, and I know he won't be, then I expect a complete apology, delivered to me and Rafe!"
Kemp shook his head in exasperation. "Laura, I'll give you that apology but you can't go. There's liable to be trouble out there."
"Dade's right, honey. You fetch me my pistol and my hat, then just set here for us."
"No, I am going, and if you won't let me go in the buggy, I'll take a horse and follow."
Colter grinned at Kemp. "Takes after her mama, now don't she?"
Kemp chuckled. "Yeah, I see the resemblance." He turned and walked swiftly out the door.
In a few minutes they were gone, Kemp riding out front, the buggy, driven by Laura, following behind. Finally they had to leave the road, and the pace slowed as they navigated around rocks and small ravines.
They came to a halt beside Kemp who was sitting on his horse at the top of a small rise, looking down on the stolen herd. They'd bedded the cattle down, and were making camp.
"Jeb, I have to make a little ride. Will you and Laura be all right here?"
"Be just fine, Dade. Don't mind us."
"1'11 be back late this evening. Don't leave here and whatever you do, Laura, don't come riding down there. You could get some men killed, including your father and me." He backed his horse away, then rode out, skirting the herd, moving back and away from them.
It took him nearly an hour to return to the place he'd asked the ranchers and their riders to wait. He spotted them in a small ravine, camped, waiting for him to show.
"Howdy, men." He waved and swung out of the saddle.
"Dade, we wondered what happened to you." The speaker was a gruff, florid man, a rancher and the man who stood to lose more than anyone.
"Ed, I swung by Colter's place and picked him and Laura up. They're over on a rise just north of the herd in a buggy. I wanted him to see Scallon for himself. He's a stubborn man and it'd be like him to believe we cooked up something on Scallon, Laura for sure."
"Ain't it kind of dangerous for Laura to be in on this thing, Dade?" The rancher clearly didn't like her presence, as uneasy as a sailor with the knowledge that the captain had his wife aboard ship.
Kemp sighed. "You ever try to steer a cow critter that didn't want to go in the direction you wanted? Well, that's about the way it is with that woman. Short of hog-tyin' her, there just wasn't no way to keep her from coming."
Kemp spent the next hour laying out his plan. The plan was simple and called for them to sneak up close and surprise the rustlers when most of them were still in their blankets.
Kemp asked, "Did Henry get here yet?"
"Yeah, but he left right after. Said the missus was laid up with a hurt back. Fell off a ladder. Said to tell you that it was like you said, whatever that' means."
Kemp grinned. "It means that Scallon is in camp, now. I had Henry keep his eye on Scallon and follow him when he left town. He was to let me know if Scallon was with the herd." Kemp climbed back aboard his horse and said, "Move in at three o'clock. I'll be down there close by. When I step out, you boys make your appearance at the same time."
PART FOUR
The cool of the morning found the rustlers in their bedrolls, with two men sitting on logs as guards. Three other men circled the herd, singing low. Kemp's men were in place, and he had moved the buggy up closer. He lay just outside the circle of light cast by the fire.
Kemp crawled forward, then stood slowly. Neither guard looked his way. He stepped into view and the sound of his gun being cocked brought the guards around suddenly, rifles ready. Kemp held his gun pointed at them as men all around stepped out of the grass and into sight.
Kemp said softly, "Lay it aside or die." The men slowly put the rifles down.
Suddenly, the camp was awake as the rustlers awoke to shouts from the posse. A sleepy-eyed Scallon staggered from beneath the cook wagon, gun drawn, looking wildly around for a target.
Kemp's voice was sharp as he said, "Drop your gun, Scallon or die!"
The big man swung around at the voice and peered intently into the darkness. "Kemp? That you?"
"You got just a couple seconds to drop that gun or die, old son."
The gun dropped into the dirt. One of the posse stepped out of the darkness and picked it up. Kemp stepped into the flickering light of the camp fire and walked up to Scallon.
"I reckon your string is played out, Scallon. You won't be walking away a free man from this one."
Scallon had regained his composure and he laughed. "Kemp, I'll live to see you in a grave. And I've just been here with these boys watching Mr. Colter's cattle. I reckon some of the other cows got mixed in somehow. Maybe the rustler's came through in the night and run off when they saw you boys."
Kemp smiled and shook his head slowly. "You always were quick w
ith the words, Scallon. Only thing, words won't work for you now. I trailed them cows personal. And some of the boys here can identify some of the riders that come out of the bedrolls. They ride for you."
Laura came walking out of the dark then. She was talking as she walked towards Scallon. Kemp reached out to stop her but she brushed on by him.
She slapped Scallon across the face hard and with scorn dripping from her voice, said loudly, "How could you? How could you?" Her voice was cracking.
Suddenly, Scallon grabbed Laura, his left arm wrapping around her neck, pulling her tight against himself as a shield. In his right hand, he held a small derringer.
"Laura and I will be riding out of here, Kemp. You try and stop us and she dies."
Kemp turned to Colter and said, "Jeb, if he gets away from here with her, he'll use her bad, probably kill her. She's your daughter Jeb, and I'll stick by what you say, but I'm not for letting him walk out of here."
Colter limped forward and stood near Kemp. He stared hard at Scallon and said, "Dade, I been listening to that snake for so long and ignoring what you tried to tell me, I don't know if I can trust myself any more. I'm gettin' old. You do what has to be done and I'll stick by it, no matter what."
Laura said, "Please Dade, no violence. Let us go."
"Laura, do you know what's in store for you if we let him ride out of here?"
She nodded.
Dade continued, "He'll make you little better than a squaw, then one day drop you off beside a trail, probably with a bullet in your brain." He stared a long moment at Scallon then said, "He might just wait until he knows he's out of our reach, shoot you, then shove you into a ravine. He's got no love for you, Laura. He's a wolf inside. A wolf don't love, Laura, he just satisfies an appetite. I can't let him kill you that way. Better you die now, here with us, than to die in a tumble of rocks somewhere, your bones picked clean by the vultures."
Scallon laughed. "My but you carry on, Kemp. I love Laura and but for you I'd have married her. I'd not be doing any of what you say."
"What about the little Mexican gal, Senora Rojas' girl."
Scallon's face turned ugly. "Don't talk of what you know nothing about, Kemp. Just bring us two horses and shut your mouth or she's dead.!"
Kemp ignored him. "Tell Laura how you got the girl pregnant, I think she was barely fifteen, and then dumped her in a creek that was roaring down half a mountain."
"She fell in and I got witnesses that I wasn't anywhere around."
"Well, the law there didn't want to take the word of a Mexican against a white man, especially three of 'em, but I talked with her mother, Scallon, and she told me everything. Said she followed when you took her daughter away and saw you lift her out of the saddle and toss her in like a sack full of rocks."
Laura was ashen, knowing that what she was hearing was the truth. She looked at Kemp and asked, "Why didn't you tell me this?"
Kemp said, "Laura,. it doesn't matter now." He didn't want to remind her of her stubborn refusal to believe anything bad about Scallon. He looked at Scallon and said, "1 reckon you're going to have to kill her here, Scallon. We want to bury her here. At least, she'll have her daddy and friends around and not vultures and coyotes, which is all you'd leave her with.
Scallon sneered, "You're bluffing, Kemp and if you don't get those horses here in one minute, I'm calling it."
Kemp called back behind him. "Don't bring any horses." Then he stepped forward, placed his gun against Scallon's ear and said, "Jeb, get over here." The man walked close and Kemp said, "Put your gun against his knee cap. When he shoots Laura, blow it off."
Kemp lowered his voice and said, "Scallon, when you kill Laura, Jeb is going to start on the knee cap. then all the rest of the men are going to ride out, chasing the cows. You, me, and Jeb are going to stay, and !'m going to show you some things the Apache taught us when we first come into this country. They liked to brag they can kill a man for five days: Me and Jeb are going to try for more days. That ain't a threat, Scallon, but a dead-sure promise." Kemp's voice trailed off to a low whisper full of deadly promise.
"You're supposed to be a law man, Kemp. You can't stampede me. Now get them horses! I won't wait much longer." Sweat stood out in great beads across the man's forehead.
Kemp reached into his pocket and took out his badge. He tossed it into the dirt and said, "1 hereby give up my office." He cocked the gun. "Now, here's the game, old son. At some point of my choosing, I'm going to pull the trigger on this gun. I'm going to start counting. I might count to three, or maybe five." He paused, then continued, his voice almost a whisper: "Or I might not make it to two. So you either drop your gun or I pull the trigger and we take the chance that my bullet in your brain keeps your finger from working on that trigger. On the other hand, you shoot her and me and Jeb work on you for a week or so. And like I said, old son, that's a dead-sure promise. So take your choice. My patience with you has run its course, Scallon."
Kemp reached the count of two when Scallon said, "Wait, please. Just you and me, Kemp. You wanted that. You said so. Give me your word that you and me will have our chance and I'll let her go."
Kemp was silent for a long moment. "I can't make that deal, Scallon. I'm sworn to uphold the law."
"Your badge is off, Kemp. You said you weren't a lawman any more."
Kemp was quiet for a long moment, then said, "That's true. I did do that, didn't I?" He stared hard at Scallon for a long minute, then said, "You've got it. Now lower the gun and let her go." The words were sharp, commanding.
Scallon lowered his gun and dropped it to the ground, then shoved Laura away. He was visibly shaken and his hands were trembling. He knew he'd been seconds from death, that this man would have pulled that trigger. He knew that as certain as he knew his own name. He laughed nervously, then said, "You play a mean hand, Kemp."
Laura staggered to her father, weeping. The old man put his arm around her as she wept uncontrollably, her tears mingled with shame, outrage and relief.
Kemp shoved Scallon to one side and said to one of the men nearby, "Bring up the buggy."
"You gave me your word!" Scallon was angry.
Kemp smiled. "So I did. But we won't do it here. I'm sure these men don't want to chase the cattle across the whole Double-8 range."
"Dade, please. Please don't go out there with him." Laura stood beside Kemp, her eyes reddened, sniffling, her hand on his arm. It was a very subdued and humbled Laura Colter now.
Kemp said, "1 made a promise, Laura, not only to him just now, but to a little senora, a woman with a sick heart, a little dried-up lady who'll still cry for her daughter many more nights. I told her I'd personally take care of her killer and that's why I left him his little gun. I knew he had that hideout. I just didn't count on you rushing up like you did."
Laura's face flushed and she said softly, "I really am a fool, aren't it?"
Kemp smiled and said softly, "No, but you got some learnin' to do."
She looked up at him and said, "It has to be this way?"
"Yes, Laura." He paused, then put his finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Softly, he said, "When this is all over, one day I'll be riding up with those flowers."
She stared long at him, then nodded, tears brimming in her eyes.
Kemp, with a dead serious look on his face, said, "Roses all right by you?"
She smiled at the sudden levity, then old man Colter interrupted, "Weeds will do, Dade, if you're carrying them."
Kemp flushed, aware suddenly of his audience.
He turned to Scallon and said, "Get in."
Colter said, "I want to come, Dade."
Kemp nodded. "I had that in mind, Jeb." The man climbed into the buggy, Kemp mounted his horse and the three men disappeared into the night.
They stopped nearly a mile away and Kemp said, "We'll wait another half hour. Sun will be ready to rise."
Scallon asked if he could smoke and Kemp permitted the man to withdraw a cigar. He lit it and smoked in silence. Kemp let him get out of the buggy and Scallon stood to one side, looking east at the lightening sky. Kemp stayed in the saddle, watching the man. Colter sat rock-like in the buggy.
Finally, as dawn broke, Kemp said, "Light's good enough, Scallon. Stand over here." Kemp pointed and Scallon walked slowly to the spot.
Kemp handed the man his gun and two bullets. "Don't put those in until I tell you."
Then he stepped backwards to the buggy and withdrew a rifle from its boot. He handed it to Colter and said, "Jeb, if he happens to kill me, make sure you shoot him down. Don't let him leave here alive."
Scallon's voice lost its deep resonance as he exclaimed, "What do you mean, Kemp? I don't have a chance! What happened to our deal?"
"You've got a better chance than that little girl had. Better chance than you'd have given Laura, and a better chance than you'd have given me. I even gave you two bullets, one for each of us." Kemps lips lifted in a faint smile.
Scallon looked at the old man and saw no pity there, only a gleam in his eye. He threw aside his cigar and his face grew hard. "Let's get it over with, Kemp. I'd like us to die with the sun just peeking over the mountains. Kind of fitting for us, I think. Ain't many men like us left."
The man was almost jocular, now. He'd accepted that there was no way for him to escape death and he'd determined that Dade Kemp would die with him.
"Slip those cartridges in now, Scallon." Kemp's voice was quiet. His pistol was pointed straight at Scallon's heart.
The man slid them in, replaced the gun in the holster at his hip and spread his legs slightly. He leaned forward some and he shook circulation into his hands, flexing his fingers as he shook his hand. Kemp stood almost nonchalant, relaxed, a deadly calm in his face, his gun now resting in its holster.
Scallon's body was like one giant spring as he drew his weapon. It was the best he'd ever done, he knew. He was good. He proven that many times and nearly a dozen men in graves were testament to his skill with a six gun. His shot boomed across the prairie first, then another shot sounded. Rafe Scallon didn't hear that second shot. Instead, he felt something akin to a giant fist slam into his chest, then blackness shut out the brightness of the morning sun and closed his eyes. Rafe Scallon died as the sun rose, throwing its golden lances across the still body lying in the grass.
Kemp stood there for a long time staring at the still form, then walked to the buggy. He held out his bloodied arm and said, "Better tie something around this, Jeb. Reckon I'll be holding the flowers with my other hand."
As they left, Colter said, "I thought the sun rose and set with that man. Laura too. I suppose it's fittin' to say, the sun rose and set on him all in the same day."
The End
What happens when a former lawman, a man dedicated to maintaining law and order, finds himself stripped of everything he loved, and inside, shrivels emotionally? What happens when a man becomes driven by vengance? What about justice? Where is that bright line? These are issues that confronted Weston Teague in the novel, Bloody Wes Teague. Teague had been a lawman in Texas in his early years, and he'd earned a "rep" as a tough man—a man who'd not back down from a fight. But, when he became a rancher in Wyoming, he left behind those years and that life. He married a beautiful New Yorker and brought her into the West. But, someone followed them. That man would earn the wrath of Wes Teague. His actions would also call into question everything Teague had once stood for as a lawman. Click here for a preview.
copyright 1986
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