Buchanan's Seige (9 page)

"But you beat a nester and ran him off your graze,"
Trevor said. "Didn't you, now?"

"Another settin' of a nest," Durkin growled. "Buchan
an'
ll
tell you, this here's a war to the finish. I may be
rough, but I ain't no damn fool. Never could git along with
Fox and them.
Its
fish or cut bait, and I'm here to fish for them gunnies bein' brought in."

Trevor, uncertain, asked, "What do you think, Buchan
an?"

"First, I better tell you, Bull, there's another couple of
guns on you. Just in case."

"Be pretty dumb if there wasn't." He held up empty
hands. "You need me and you need Cactus and Sutter."

Buchanan said, "There's the ba
rn
. Cactus and Sutter
could hold out there."

"Okay," said Durkin. "I got ammunition and food in
the wagon. I got blankets, everything we could grab onto."

"One bad move, Bull," said Buchanan. "Just one. Then
it'll be you and me. Right?"

Durkin grinned. His teeth were jagged. "Ain't never
tried you yet.
If
'n I do, you'll know it."

"I'll know it, all right. And you won't forget it."

"Suits me." Durkin turned and bawled, "Git the wagon
into the barn, there. Feed the hosses and turn 'em loose.
No use to git 'em kilt right off. Bed down."

Cactus and Sutter were hard-bitten riders, no more, no
less, Buchanan saw. They obeyed without question. Both
wore their holsters'
tied low on their flanks. No doubt they were gun hands, as Bull Durkin had been before he swung
his loop wide enough and often enough to put together a
herd down south. It was a touchy situation, but there
seemed no other course than to accept aid at face value.

Durkin followed his men. Badger slid out of the deep shadows as Trevor came close to Buchanan.

"The association lynched Adam Day. He lynched the rustlers this very day," Badger said. "Watch him."

"Wouldn't trust the man across the creek," said Trevor.

"So long as we know all that," Buchanan told them.
"When the attack comes, we'll know a lot more. If him or
one of his men prove wrong
—kill 'em."

“
I don't like it," Trevor murmured. "I don't like it at
all, y' know."

Badger said, "May the good Lord protect you." Then
he was gone, and the sound of the mule running was fad
ing in the night.

Trevor said, "Perhaps we should have sent him for
help?"

"Whereabouts? With the telegraph wire down, it would
take days to get enough help here. And you know the as
sociation's got political power."

Trevor shrugged. "Right-o. We make the best of it,
then."

"Better check on 'em." Buchanan went into the house.

Whelan was unhappy. "Buchanan, you know that bas
tard . . . 'scuse me, ladies, but that's what he is
...
we
oughta run him off right now."

"And have a shootout before the war even starts up?"

"He's no good."

"Is so," said Kovacs. "A bad man."

The women were silent, but now Pa Thome spoke up.

"Yawl went into town and picked up a wornout old
one-legged coot and a nigger."

"Uh-huh." Buchanan was patient, but time was running
on his forbearance.

"I swan to ginney, that's might peculiar goin's on."

"You do, huh?"

"Vittles bein' short enough. Them two won't be no
help."

"You think so." He swallowed hard, containing himself.

"You got the nigger in a bed. Where I come from, he'd
foe on the floor and glad of it."

"I see. Where you come from. Hog Land?"

"Mississippi, by Gawd. Where a nigger's a black noth
in’.”

"And you were a slave owner?"

Thome was taken aback. "Who, me? I didn't own pot
or winder. We come out here after ma died, Sonny and
me.
Scrabbled to git a homestead and some hawgs."

"Looks like you been around 'em long enough to act
like
one," Buchanan snapped.

"Whut you
sa
y? Whut's that?"

"Coco is my friend. Understand that. Get it into your
thick head, Mr. Thorne. Get it good."

"A nigger is yore friend?" The pig farmer was aghast.

"What's more he could take you in one hand and your
son in the other and crack you like walnuts. But he
wouldn't. He wouldn't take advantage of trash like you."
Buchanan took a breath, seeking control. "Coco's like me,
a peaceable man. I know you're ignorant, which is some
sort of excuse, but Mister, you walk careful around me and don't let me hear you call Coco a nigger, not ever.
You hear me?"

The man said, "Goddlemighty, Mr. Buchanan, I didn't
go for to make you all that mad."

"Uh-huh," said Buchanan. "Did it, though, didn't
you?"

"Uh, well, I hear you." The hog farmer retreated.

Amanda exhaled. She said, "Well, that was quite a lec
ture. But about Bull Durkin, now. He is a dangerous character."

Fay Whelan said, "He made a run at me once. Had to
pull down on him. I swear, hawg farmers, stove up people.
We are in a fix."

"How come you trust the rest of us?" asked Buchanan.

Rob Whelan interposed. "We know about you. You got
to remember, Fay and me, we've had to stand by each
other. Maybe we got some to learn. But we only know we
got each other. Maybe we won't even have a house when
this is over. Maybe we'll be dead."

"Like Badger says, only the good Lord knows," Bu
chanan said.

"One thing," said Fay.

"Uh-huh." Everybody wanted something, and they all
came to Buchanan.

"Rob and me, we go together. You're the boss here so
far as we're concerned. But don't try to separate us."

"No reason to do that." He was relieved.

"Way it is with us," Rob said. "One goes, t'other won't know how to cut it."

"Okay and good luck." He gestured. "How about stand
in' guard out there awhile?"

"Fine with us."

. They went off into the night, prowling, never more than
a few yards apart. They had come a long way together,
Buchanan thought. They had scrambled for a place in life. Rob was right: even if they survived, they might lose it all
and be forced to begin all over again. What they had put together was really themselves. Perhaps that was enough.
He found himself staring at the high ceiling of the big
room. He went outdoors and saw there was a stone para
pet around the edge of the roof.

He went back inside and called to Kovacs. "Hey, is
there a trapdoor to the roof?"

"Is so. In closet."

The closets were in the hallway between the kitchen and
the main room. Buchanan asked, "You got a ladder?"

"Is so." Kovacs opened a closet door. There was a sturdy wooden ladder leading upward. Everything about the
Kovacs property was staunch.

Buchanan said, "That trap's too tight for me. Hey, you,
Sonny Thome. Take a look up there."

The skinny man went up the steps, removed the trap.
"Good roof," he called down. "Hard to set afire, I reckon. Should I git some water up here in case?"

"You do that," said Buchanan. "Leave that ladder right
where it is. We'll keep a gun up there."

He walked around, examining every detail of the house and its furnishings. Amanda Day followed him, watching.

In the main bedroom, he made certain Coco and Weevil
were sleeping. In the other bedroom, she spoke to him.

"You think of everything, don't you?"

"I try, ma'am." He sat down on a chair, weary of a sud
de
n. "Wish there was some way to get yawl out of here."

"But we belong here."

"Sure, you do. Only there's a heap of guns will say you
got
to get out."

"You think we'd run, even if we could?"

"I
thin
k you'd be fools not to. Look, we got the Whe
lan
s
and Trevor. They'll stand up. Kovacs is no fighter.

The hawg farmers
—you can look at them and see what
they are. Bull Durkin—we don't know yet which side he's
on
...
besides his own side." He waved an arm. "Out
yonder they're bringin' in an army. They got to kill us now to save their own necks."

"Of course. But you won't let them." Her coolness was
amazing.

He shook his head. "Such faith no woman should
have."

"Bradbury?" she asked. "He did try to buy out Adam.
Could you get to him?"

"Tried that. Fox and Crane got him over a barrel. I
know he was against lynchin' or he wouldn't of called for
me. But right now, he's the enemy."

"Then they'll kill us." She considered. "If they do,
there'll be a stench in the land, an uprising of the righ
teous!"

"Now, lady, don't be figurin' on martyrdom. Once in
your grave, you don't count. It's a big country with plenty
of room for the livin', and those who survive keep right on
mindin' their own affairs. Let the dead stay buried, they
figure."

"You don't believe in anything much, do you, Buchan
an?" Her eyes were bright and a bit sad.

"Time and circumstance," he said. "A man does what
he can. Belief? I got my beliefs."

She stood a moment staring at him. Then she went
quickly from the room. He shrugged. He was not one to
speak to strangers about what he believed.

He got up and went out of the house. He found the big
buckskin in the corral and saddled him, spoke to him,
mounted and rode out.

He rode over the terrain from which the attack must
come. There were some high trees clustered at the front of the house which he would wish to have leveled if possible.
There was a knoll to the west behind which the forces of
the enemy could deploy in safety. Neither prospect pleased
him.

He rode around for some time, squinting at his friends,
the stars under which he had so often slept. He thought
about the people gathered at the Kovacs' place and how
he had come among them.

He removed his hat and said a few words to his own
private deity, which was not an old man with a long white
beard sitting up above the clouds, but something quite clos
er to Buchanan and his natural surroundings.

Colonel Bradbury's
hacienda
was old-Spanish design,
an elaborate place designed by Consuela, his Spanish wife
of many years. She was the daughter of a consul, they had
met in Austin. She was a woman of strength with deep,
dark eyes; no longer young, growing heavy of body but
still handsome.

Servants brought whiskey and carafes of water to the
leaders of the Cattleman's Association, who were out on
the patio. Torches threw light upon the scene.

Dealer Fox said, "We got those rustlers that Durkin bung, and buried them where nobody'll find them. Now
we got to get Durkin."

"We're addin' up a big total," Bradbury said. He was
u
ncomfortable, unsure.

"Pollard and them can handle it."

Morgan Crane said, "But I'm the boss in the field. I'm
g
iv
in' the orders. I know how."

"Certainly, Morgan," said Fox. "Pollard and Dorn and Tanner and Geer will be your lieutenants."

Crane drank deeply. "Just make damn sure of it."

Bradbury sat back. Morgan was a fool. Fox was getting
cl
ose to the deep edge, he thought. "There's women in that Kovacs' house. Four of 'em."

""What of it?" demanded Crane. "Did we send 'em
th
ere? Is it our business they gang up with the men and the
s? You think they won't shoot us quick enough?"

Bradbury said, "By God, we don't make war on women.
First
thing to do is palaver. Give the women time to get
out.”