Buchanan's Seige (17 page)

Cactus held fast. "We want to talk."

"Not to me," said Buchanan. "Put down that gun or say your prayers."

From his corner, Weevil drawled, "Better do like
the
man says. You start somethin' and we'll blow the joint apart."

Coco moved, painfully but with purpose. He came up
behind Sutter. He kicked the chair away and seized the
rifle. Sutter groaned as he hit the floor.

Cactus cried, "The Kovacs wanta quit. We got a right
.
It's their place." He lowered the rifle and backed into the
room and stood beside Sutter, helping the other cowboy to
his feet. "Ask them. We want to talk to Bradbury and
them."

Amanda had flown to the side of Trevor. He grinned at
her. "Bad shot, what? Just a shoulder."

"I didn't want to kill nobody," said Sutter. "I coulda
got
him dead center."

"Decent of you, old boy," said Trevor.

Buchanan said, "So you want to talk to them? Kovacs?
”

"Is so." He was dull-faced, as though not involved
the action. "Me and Jenny."

"Should we let Cactus and Sutter show us how
done?" Buchanan asked gently.

"Any way it can be done," Jenny said. "My baby
gone. My house is ruin."

"But not blown up. Not yet," Buchanan said. Then
he
shrugged. "You want to talk to them, go ahead."

"Gimme a white flag, anything. I'll go out there," sail
Cactus. "Them people know me."

Jenny Kovacs arose. She went to a chest of drawers
and
took out a spotless white sheet. "God bless," she sai
d,
handing it to Cactus. She did not look at Buchanan.

Amanda said, "Come with me, Trevor." She led him
to
the kitchen and began to remove his jacket. She called ~
Buchanan, "I do not agree with this."

"Uh-huh," said Buchanan. He watched Cactus at
ta
c
h
the sheet to his rifle barrel. He motioned Coco and Weevi
l
to stay away from the door. Sutter had regained his
feet
and was following Cactus.

Cactus yanked back the heavy bar. The door swung
open. He stuck the rifle out and waved it. Night was falling
fast, but there was an answer from the forest. Cactus and Sutter went out into the open.

It was Jigger Dorn and Dealer Fox and Morgan Crane
who appeared from the shelter of the trees. They walked
only a few steps and stopped.

Fox called, "Where's Buchanan?"

"Ne
ver mind him," Cactus replied.
"We wanta talk
terms. We wanta know if you'll let us all go."

"Listen at the cowpoke," said Crane.
"It's some kinda trick," Jigger Dorn said, grinning like
a death's head. "Get 'em."

Buchanan grabbed a rifle from the table. Shots rang out.
Dorn was firing his revolver. Buchanan got off one shot,
th
en Coco slammed the door.

Buchanan ran to the
window. Dorn was down. The others
had already dashed back to safety. Every gun from the
t
rees and from the knoll began to shoot. Lead poured at
the
house. Cactus and Sutter lay in a pool of blood
.
Buchanan said dully, "You might want to see, Pieter.
You
might want to learn what good it does to talk to those
people
out there."

He turned away, sick at heart. Now they would be com
ing
in force, he was certain of that. Trevor was hurt. The
Kova
cses, looking wan and lost, crept away to their bed
room.
He went to where Sonny Thome lay.

He
knelt and felt for a heartbeat. There was none. The
young
hog farmer was dead. Cactus and Sutter had done
damage before paying the price.

He
went to the deep closet in which he had placed the
boxes of
dynamite. They would come with the wagons, he
knew
.
They had discovered a way to have some protection
when they
attacked.

H
e opened the box and selected three sticks. He tied
im together with wire. He fingered a detonating cap. It
was
necessary to soften the dynamite to insert the cap the
way h
e wanted it.

H
e
struck a taper and lit the stub of a candle-he had
c in the barn. He held it steady. One wrong move and
he would blow up the house, and at the moment, it mat
tered a bit less to him than it had before.

The moment passed. He inserted the cap. He attached a
short piece of the fuse.

He remained in the closet. He had six caps, he wanted
to make a half-dozen bombs. He was not altogether cer
tain that he had done the job properly. Once, he thought
he might have gone too far. Once, he was afraid he might
set off a spark and finish everything right then and there.

He persisted. It was going to be a bad night, as bad as
any he had ever known. He drew a deep breath and went
out to the kitchen.

Trevor's right shoulder was bandaged, the healing Indian poultice was in place. Amanda was once more getting
food together. Her face was pale and she did not smile.

Trevor said, "Good bit of luck I'm ambidextrous.
Shoot with either hand, you know?"

"You'll get your chance." Buchanan dropped heavily
into a chair. Coco came and sat beside him. "It'll be a
doozer tonight, I promise you that."

"The Whelans?" Trevor was cool.

"I'll talk to them. If the attack is on the house, we
’ll
bring 'em in. We'll need every gun. We'll need Amanda
an
d
Coco to reload."

"I can shoot," Amanda said flatly. "If I must, I ca
n
shoot at them."

"Just keep the gun loaded," said Buchanan. He looked
at Coco. "Think you could get up on the roof with me?"

"I can do it."

"I got me a bit of an idea," said Buchanan.

"If they come all the way, with more than one
wagon..."

"I'm countin' on it."

He looked at Pieter and Jenny, clinging to one another,
completely lost, now, hopeless, abandoned. He went
to
stand before them.

"It's just too late," he said kindly. "It's gone too fa
r.
You saw what happened
;
we lost three guns tryin' to talk
to those people out there."

They did not reply. He sighed and went to the ba
ck
door. Amanda was waiting, knowing he was heading for
the barn and the Whelans.

She said, "You tried. Don't blame yourself."

"It is their house," he said. "Their barn, their land.
Maybe we should've made the fight somewhere else. But it
had to be made. More and more, I know it had to be
made."

She reached for his hand. "Win or lose, we'll make the
fight."

He returned the pressure. Then he ran for the barn with
food in his pockets. The Whelans were staunch, he
thought. He would remain with them for a while. He needed to know what the enemy was planning. He felt looser in
the barn, from which he might venture a scout again if
necessary.

Dealer Fox stood in a wagon behind the knoll and
sipped out whiskey rations. He was guarded by Tanner
and Geer, both well plied with liquor. Tin cups were filled,
emptied, passed around.

Morgan Crane had his own bottle. He was frustrated,
a
n
gry. "Got to git goin'," he repeated over and over. "Got
to
git them bastards where I want 'em."

Sime Pollard, notably sober, stared at the men. "Only way this bunch'll get us there is if they're stone drunk. I
got
the shooters in the rear guard where they might do
good."

“G
it 'em all up there," roared Crane. "Git every damn
up there."

Po
llard said, "No."

“You
tellin' me?" Crane whirled around,
feom the wagon Fox said, "He's right, Morgan. We
agre
ed; he's in charge of deployin' the men."

“
I dunno," shouted Crane. "You and him. You let that
grea
ser Miguel scare you off. You let Brad and his woman

sit
there, no tellin' what they're up to. I dunno but it's
tim
e somebody else took charge here."

"Like you?" asked Fox.

“
Like
this affair's got to be finished tonight," Crane de
clared
. "We still got a hundred men. If they can't get down
there and wipe out that lousy little crew of rustlers and
turncoats and whatnot, then there's somethin' damn
wrong.".

"Buchanan," muttered Pollard. "That's what's been
wrong all along. Buchanan."

Fox continued to dish out seconds and thirds to those
who wanted the whiskey. If they became wild enough, he thought, they would charge through any gunfire and reach
the windows of the house and throw in the torches he had
ready for them. Once the place was afire the rats would have to depart the house. Then it would be all over in a
minute or two, and the burying could begin and the story
embroidered for public release.

Now one of the crew began to lead a group in song,
"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the
Lord
. . ."

It was not tuneful, but it was loud and it raised the
hackles of men who had sympathized with the South ia
1861. A long, screaming Rebel yell mounted to the oblivious stars, and the dissidents were shouting, "
'Way down
south in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgot
ten, look away, look away, look away, Dixieland .,."

In a jiffy, they were facing each other, brandishing
knives, fists, tin cups. Fox had stacked the rifles, but one
man drew a hideout short gun.

Morgan Crane drove among them swinging his fists. Pollard buffaloed the man with the gun. They milled in a
confused welter of violence.

Fox said, "Fire over their heads. Damn, they'll kill ea
ch
other off."

Tanner and Geer obliged. Bullets flew close enough t
o
the embattled men to cause them to duck. Pollard laid o
ut
another man.

Fox shouted, "That damn war's long since over, T
his
one right here's what you're bein' paid for
—better mo
ney
than you ever got from the gov'ment."

They were quiet under the lash. Someone hollered
.
"More whiskey, that's the game, boys."

Fox doled it out in smaller quantities. It had been a na
r
row escape. Mob spirit had to be controlled, directed. T
h
e
trouble was that the best of the shooters had died
in
the earlier, brave attempts on the house. He prayed for anoth
er hour, and then it would be over. All but taking care of
Bradbury and his wife, he added to himself. That was an
other matter....

Miguel said to the guard, "We will move. For what it is
worth, we could kill you now if we must."

The guard said, "Sime'll kill me if you try to git away."

"We are not running," said Miguel.

They watched each other like two bulldogs, ready to
fight if necessary. The Bradburys walked to where they
could see what was going on beyond the knoll.

They watched and listened to the howls, then Bradbury
said, "A mob. A drunken mob."

"It started with a lynching," she reminded him.

"Curse the day I hired Sime Pollard."

"He's a good cattleman. The association began this
other thing that brought us here."

"I know. I know," he groaned. "I see it all now. I see it when it's too late."

Fox was handing out the torches and giving instruc
tions. He lit one and held it high over the scene. The flickering flame threw a macabre glow over the motley crew.
Geer and Tanner still held their guns at ready. Pollard
I lounged, scornful, indifferent. Crane waved his arms as
u
sual, shouting, exhorting them to "go down there and git
it
over with."

"They will go and face the guns from those people in
tha
t house?" queried Miguel, unbelieving.

"They hired out to do just that," said Bradbury. "It's
c
h
arge the house or be shot down by Pollard and Geer and
Tanner and Crane. And maybe Fox, I dunno. Dealer ain't
r
eal brave, but the madness is on 'em."

She took his arm and led him gently away, back to the
co
mparative safety of the glade in the woods. She said,
"But you regained your sanity. It will be remembered."

“
Maybe," he said dejectedly. "I'm part of it. No way
out.
Pollard was there when they lynched Adam Day."

""You were not there. We'll think of a way. The children
will
never believe you're part of it."