Talman's War (A Piccadilly Publishing Western #9) Page 2

  With bare seconds left to him Jim made his move. He let go of his rifle, kicked his boots clear of the stirrups, and gigged his horse forward. Closing in on Howser, Jim launched himself out of the saddle. His right shoulder took Howser high in the chest, and the two men went down hard. Jim rolled clear, pushing to his feet. Dust stung his eyes.

  He eased forward, not wanting to let Howser get his balance. He grabbed Howser’s shirt front and yanked the man upright. He only remembered Howser’s gun when the weapon swept up in a deadly arc. Jim jerked his head aside as Howser brought it down — the barrel of the gun missed his skull but caught him on the side of the neck. The blow was hard, briefly numbing. Howser lifted the gun again, trying for a second strike. This time Jim was ready. He let Howser raise the gun, then he drove a sledging right into Howser’s ribs, following up with his other fist, which caught Howser full in the mouth. With his lips split and bleeding, Howser backpedalled. He seemed to have forgotten the gun in his hand. Spitting blood he pawed at his numbed lips, staring vacantly at the red wetness that streaked his fingers. And he was still staring at it when Jim stepped in and drove a swinging right at his head — the blow was delivered with the whole of Jim’s strength and it struck with a loud, meaty sound. Howser spun on one heel and then fell onto his face.

  Jim scooped up Howser’s handgun, then moved over to collect Jarrett’s weapon. Howser’s partner was still where he had fallen, his unshaven face a sickly white. His breathing was harsh and rasping. Jim placed the confiscated weapons in his saddlebags and retrieved his own rifle.

  Only then did he turn his attention to the girl and the older man.

  Chapter Three

  The man’s name was John Dobbs and the girl was his daughter Melanie. They were on their way to town to move into the recently vacated general-store, the previous owner having sold out to Dobbs and then heading out for the California gold-fields. On their way to take over the store, the Dobbs had got lost during the previous night and had come upon Howser and Jarrett. They had only stopped to ask the way. Giving directions wasn’t enough for Howser or Jarrett, and Jim Talman had arrived just as things were turning unpleasant.

  Dobbs wasn’t badly hurt. His wound looked worse than it felt. After assuring him she was all right, his daughter went to their wagon. She returned with cloth and a bowl of water and set to cleaning up the gash on her father’s cheek.

  While this was going on Jim wandered over to the butchered steer. Obviously Howser and Jarrett had been aiming to set themselves up with a supply of meat. Anger rose again as Jim stared at the carcass. Damn them, he thought, was he going to be plagued by this pair now? He was going to have to lay down the law for them here and now, he realized.

  Jarrett was slowly recovering. He sat up, rubbing his chest, and as Jim moved over to stand before him he looked up. His face, though still pale, was cold and hard.

  ‘You like to caved in my chest,’ he said. His voice was ragged, husky.

  ‘Next time it’ll be your neck,’ Jim told him. ‘I could hang you now and I don’t think anyone would raise an objection.’

  ‘Hang?’ Jarrett’s voice was suddenly shrill with indignation. ‘What for?’

  ‘For stealing and butchering one of my prime beeves. For assaulting that girl over there. You know damn well the way folk feel about rape around here,’

  Jarrett gave a pasty leer. ‘Hell it weren’t t rape. Was only a little fun.’

  Jim put the muzzle of his rifle to Jarrett’s forehead. ‘Say that again, Jarrett so I can blow your head off.’

  For a few seconds Jarrett stopped breathing. Terror showed in his eyes and an oily sheen of sweat broke out over his face. He stared at Jim and he knew he’d said the wrong thing.

  And then Jim jerked his rifle away. ‘Get out of here,’ he said, his voice edged with bitterness. ‘And take that scum you call Howser with you.’

  Jarrett scuttled away from Jim. Crossing to the tethered horses he began to saddle them up. When he’d done he moved over to the fire to collect up the tin ware, but Jim waved him off with his rifle. Scowling, Jarrett began to protest, then thought better of it. He turned to the unconscious Howser. He jammed his partner’s hat back on, then dragged him to the waiting horses. After a deal of pushing and swearing he got Howser slung across his saddle.

  ‘What about our guns?’ Jarrett asked. He was on his own horse now, his face sullen and half-defiant.

  ‘I’ll leave them in Sheriff Nolan’s office. Collect them from there. Just stay out of my way.’ Jim moved in close to Jarrett’s horse. ‘One thing. Tell this to Howser when he wakes up. If I see either of you on Rocking-T after today you’ll be shot on sight. I’m issuing that order to my crew, and it’s for real.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ Jarrett burst out. ‘You can’t shoot a man just for riding on your ra…’

  ‘Can’t I?’ Jim said. ‘Try me then. See if I mean it or not.’ He raised his rifle. ‘Now ride out, mister, and don’t look back.’

  Jarrett picked up the reins of Howser’s horse and led out. Jim stood and watched until men and horses were hidden beyond a low ridge. As they disappeared something seemed to snap inside him; tension drained away in a rush and he felt suddenly lightheaded. He knew, though, that it wasn’t over yet. Somewhere, someday, there would be a reckoning between himself and those two.

  ‘If you want to lay charges against that pair,’ Jim said, turning to face John Dobbs and his daughter, ‘I’ll back you up.’

  Dobbs glanced at Melanie. She colored and shook her head, eyes downcast. ‘I don’t think so, Mr. Talman,’ Dobbs said. ‘Maybe we should, but we’d rather not.’

  Jim was looking at the girl. She was trying not to listen. He realized that she wanted to forget the whole thing. He knew that with his evidence to back them up the Dobbs would probably be able to make their charges stick. But if they did it would come out for everyone to hear. Luckily, because of Jim’s intervention, it hadn’t gone too far, but it would still be revealed in full. Courts had a habit of exposing every detail of a crime in the process of dispensing justice. It was unfortunate, but it was that way. It was plain to see that Melanie Dobbs was the kind of girl who would never be able to live down the aftermath of a court-case. Never mind that she was the innocent victim, people would still talk — they were made that way. Those knowing smiles and pointed stares could bite just as deep as any physical assault.

  ‘We’ll forget it then,’ Jim said. He crossed over to the still-burning fire. ‘Anyone fancy a mug of coffee?’

  ‘Not for me,’ Melanie said.

  John Dobbs said he would and Jim poured him one, then took one for himself.

  ‘Rest up a while,’ he told Dobbs, ‘then I’ll ride into town with you.’

  ‘Mr. Talman,’ Melanie said after a while, ‘would you have killed those men if it had become the only way out?’

  Her father turned to look at her, shock showing clearly on his face. ‘For heaven’s sake, girl, what a thing to ask.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Jim glanced at Melanie over his coffee mug. ‘Did I look as if I might?’

  She nodded. ‘You looked as if you hated them.’

  ‘I’ve no cause for liking them. They used to work for me. I fired them when I found out they were nothing but shiftless idlers. When I saw them today I guess I just took out all my grievances on them. I suppose I’m pretty well on the edgy side the way things are.’

  ‘The drought you mean?’ John Dobbs asked.

  ‘You named it.’

  ‘How bad are things?’

  ‘Bad enough, and apt to get worse if we don’t get some rain soon.’

  ‘And if you don’t get rain?’ Dobbs asked, then gave a mirthless smile. ‘I know the answer to that. I’ve seen cattle-country in droughts before. It’s a sad picture, and nobody gains by it. Everybody loses one way or another.’ He broke off. ‘I guess I’m talking selfishly there.’

  Jim drained his coffee. ‘We all tend to think of our own positions at a time like th
is. It’s only natural. Why the only thing I’m really bothered about is how long my water supply is going to last.’

  It was the truth he spoke, and the problem was still heavy on his mind when he rode into town some time later, with John Dobbs’ wagon trailing behind. Kneeing his horse in at the store’s hitching rail Jim dismounted, then gave Melanie a hand down off the wagon. She smiled her thanks then made a vain effort to get rid of the dust from her clothing.

  ‘I could get to dislike this country very quickly,’ she told him.

  ‘Wait until our rainy season,’ Jim said.

  She eyed him tolerantly. ‘Will it ever come?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he told her.

  A tall, slim young man had come out of the store, blinking as he emerged from the gloom. He stood on the edge of the boardwalk with one hand raised to shield his eyes from the hard sunlight. He was around twenty-five, but looked older. His pale hair was brushed straight back from his high forehead. His face was thin, his eyes big and wide behind steel-rimmed glasses. He gave the impression of being on the brink of total fright, as if he expected everyone to yell boo at him. His name was Albert Doubleday, and Jim knew that despite his appearance he was a first-rate book-keeper and clerk. He had worked for the previous owner of the store for a number of years, keeping complicated accounts with the ease of a master of his trade. Doubleday also kept the accounts of other places of business in town, and also those of a number of local ranchers, Jim included. In all the time Jim had known him he had never known an instance when Doubleday hadn’t been able to come up with complete and accurate lists of all the accounts he kept, and a mistake was something that just didn’t exist in Doubleday’s world of figures.

  ‘Morning, Albert,’ Jim said.

  Doubleday glanced at him, peering owlishly through the thick glasses. ‘Oh,’ he said after a minute, ‘why yes, good morning, Mr. Talman.’

  Jim smiled at Melanie Dobbs. She had a quizzical look on her pretty face. Until people got used to Doubleday’s ways he seemed an odd, half-asleep character.

  ‘Albert, this is Mr. Dobbs and his daughter, Miss Melanie.’

  Doubleday reached out and took John Dobbs’ outstretched hand. ‘A pleasure, sir.’ He turned his attention briefly to Melanie. ‘I hope your trip wasn’t too uncomfortable, Miss.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr. Doubleday,’ Melanie answered, giving him a smile that would have made any man look again. But Doubleday had already forgotten her. He was leading her father into the store, avidly talking about trade prospects due to the prolonged drought.

  ‘I don’t suppose he’s married by any chance?’ Melanie asked.

  ‘Albert? No, I’m afraid his only loves are his books and long lines of figures — money type figures, not female.’ Jim grinned at her. ‘Give him time and maybe he’ll get around to noticing you.’

  Melanie tossed her dark head. ‘Hah. What makes you think I want him to notice me?’ She was very definite in her attitude, but there was color in her cheeks. Nothing made a woman madder than to be totally ignored by a man.

  Jim mounted up, gathering the reins. ‘I’ll be dropping in later,’ he told her. ‘There’re a few things I have to pick up for my wife.’

  She nodded, then put out a hand as he prepared to move off. ‘Mr. Talman — Jim — I just want to say thank you.’

  He didn’t need to say anything. Touching his hat brim Jim gigged his horse into motion, heading up the street towards the Sheriff’s office.

  Chapter Four

  The township of Garnett was one of few that could boast a stone jail. The only other non-wooden structure was the Cattleman’s and Mercantile Bank; Jim made a mental note to have a word about money with the bank’s president in the near future. If it wasn’t a shortage of water it was a shortage of money, or both.

  Looping his horse’s reins around the hitching rail Jim untied the bulging gunnysack from behind his saddle and stepped up onto the shaded boardwalk before the jail.

  Inside the building it was a fraction cooler, but only a fraction. In here the heat was heavy and stifling rather than directly searing. Jim closed the door behind him, cuffing his hat back as he leaned against a rough, whitewashed wall.

  Garnett’s sheriff, Ben Nolan, eased himself back in his seat and swiveled round to face his visitor. A big, solid man in his early forties, Nolan had been the town’s lawman for nearly twelve years. He had been a long-time friend of Jim’s father, and had watched Jim Talman grow from a wide-eyed boy into a dependable, married man, an important member of the community. He regarded Jim as more than a friend, in his own mind he saw Jim as the son he’d never had. Nolan’s marriage, years back, had been short-lived; his wife had died of smallpox, taking with her the unborn child she was carrying. It had left a gap in Nolan’s life that had widened and darkened until he came to Garnett and renewed his friendship with John Talman. For five years he had been deputy to Garnett’s sheriff, and on the latter’s retirement Nolan had stepped into the top position. Throughout all those years, from the day he’d arrived, Nolan had watched, and with John Talman’s approval, had helped to guide Jim’s life towards manhood. And when Jim’s parents had passed away, within a year of each other, Nolan had found himself taking the place of Jim’s father. Jim had been twenty-two then, the last of the Talmans. His father had left him a legacy that needed a big man to command it. Nolan had no misgivings; he knew Jim well, and his faith had held strong. Jim had taken on Rocking-T without hesitation. Not only that, but he’d made it a success, bringing to fruit all the dreams and plans visualized by his father. Six years had gone by, changing the boy into a proud, capable man of twenty-eight, who now stood in Nolan’s office, his brown face somehow troubled.

  ‘You look like a man with a problem,’ Nolan said good-naturedly.

  Jim dumped the loaded sack on the floor beside Nolan’s battered desk. The lawman glanced down at it, then poked at it with the toe of his boot.

  ‘Well, what is it? You tell me ’cause I ain’t got the energy to bend down and look.’

  ‘Couple of tin mugs, coffee-pot, and a pair of gun belts and handguns.’

  Nolan digested the words for a time. From somewhere out of the paper-strewn disorder of his desk he produced a long, thin cigar which he lit up. When he had the thing going well he returned his attention to Jim.

  ‘And?’ he said.

  Jim told him, leaving nothing out. His face suddenly hard, Nolan listened in silence. His cigar went out and he relit it.

  ‘I should have run that pair out of town long ago. Only they ain’t never done anything that gave me the excuse.’ Nolan bit angrily down on his cigar. ‘Hell, they just do nothing but cause upset.’

  ‘Ben, you’ll let it go, won’t you? I promised the Dobbs it wouldn’t go any further.’

  Nolan eyed him sternly. ‘I ain’t got much choice, and well you know it, Jim Talman.’ His tone was mixed anger and frustration. ‘If the Dobbs won’t prefer charges there isn’t much I can do. But it’s wrong, Jim, damned wrong.’

  ‘Maybe, Ben, but I think I know what the girl feels. It could be hard on her.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Nolan looked hard at Jim. ‘What about your beef? We could get ’em on that.’

  Jim shook his head. ‘Right now I got enough problems. Let it go this time, Ben.’

  Nolan sighed. ‘Ah, what the hell. Jim, you know what your pa’d have done with that pair. He would’ve hung ’em. Right there and then. No messing.’

  ‘I thought that was the kind of thing you wanted to stop,’ Jim answered.

  Nolan saw the gleam in his eyes and grinned suddenly. ‘Smart boy, ain’t you! Hey, how’s that lovely wife of yours? I haven’t seen her for a while. She pregnant yet?’

  ‘No.’ Jim smiled; this was Nolan’s standing question. ‘We’re working on it though.’

  ‘You youngsters are too slow these days.’ Nolan pushed out of his seat, crossing to the door. He opened it and placed his big frame in the open space. ‘Jim, you figure it’s ever going to
break?’

  ‘Sometime, Ben, but I don’t know when.’

  ‘How you doing at Rocking-T?’

  ‘Feeling the pinch. The boys started moving the herd up into the high pasture this morning. If the creek doesn’t dry up I figure we’ll be all right.’

  Nolan glanced over his shoulder. ‘What if it does, Jim?’

  Jim couldn’t hold back his laughter. ‘You’re about the fourth person who’s asked me that today. Everything seems to revolve around that creek right now.’

  ‘It’s the logical question.’

  Jim took off his hat and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. ‘Ben, I just don’t think that far ahead. If I did I guess I’d worry myself out of my pants.’

  Moving outside Nolan stared up and down the street. Garnett slumbered fitfully in the searing heat. There weren’t many people about, only a few horses at the hitching rails. Following on Nolan’s heels, Jim handed the lawman his hat. Nolan put it on, squaring its brim.

  ‘I’d better go down and say welcome to Mr. Dobbs,’ he said.

  ‘You won’t change his mind. Or his daughter’s,’ Jim told him.

  Nolan smiled. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Ben, come over to Rocking-T one night for supper. Any night. Ruth’ll be glad to see you. It’s been too long since you visited.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Jim, and thanks.’ Nolan touched Jim’s shoulder then moved off up the boardwalk.

  Jim watched him go, conscious of the feeling he had for the man. Next to his father, Ben Nolan had been the ideal man in Jim Talman’s eyes. Now that his father was gone, Jim found he was drawing even closer to Nolan. Despite the fact that he was a man who needed to stand on his own two feet, Jim was glad he had someone like Nolan for a friend; a man had to be able to stand alone — but it sometimes helped if he had a good listener when he wanted to talk; Ben Nolan had moved into the position occupied by the late John Talman. Jim realized this, didn’t let it worry him, for he knew where to draw the line, and he knew that Nolan himself would never step beyond that line.