Dance With A Gunfighter (36 page)

The marshal, a tall, burly man with a walrus mustache,
shoved his way to the front of the crowd and stood on a barrel to address them.
"The owner of the Bird Cage has asked me to give you lunkheads some
advice. He’s been saying all along that Lotta Crabtree ain’t going to show up
here. But you boys are so loco you won’t listen to him. You can stay here all
night if you want to, but that won’t make her pop up out of thin air. On the
other hand, you can come inside and see a terrific show called
He Done Her
Wrong
starring Miss Gail Sawyer and Mr. John Dunne."

The crowd booed, hissed and threw bottles and newspapers
at the marshal. He jumped off the barrel, raised his arms and was about to
shout some orders when he was hit from the side with a bucket of slop. He
barreled into the crowd after the man who threw it. Guns were fired into the
air, and shouts were everywhere.

Quickly, people ran toward Allen Street to join in the
fight. Gabe went in the opposite direction, disgusted by all she’d seen. She
turned down a side street to get away from the crowd, to find the livery and
Maggie, and go home. Lurking in the shadows, a lanky figure she’d recognize
anywhere headed her way. She ducked into a doorway.

Before reaching her, Luke Murdock ran up an outside
stairway to the second floor of a rooming house and knocked on the door. A
woman with long, frizzy red hair streaming over her shoulders, a loosely belted
shiny green robe, and a stark white patch over one eye, opened the door and let
him in.

Gabe watched in both shock and terror. If Murdock was
still here, the elusive Tanner might not be too far away. Her heart pounded so
hard she feared it might stop. She had to find him--and not lose Murdock while
she was at it.

She ran to the livery to get her horse and then rode her
back to the spot she’d left Murdock. She crawled under the stairs that led to
the red-haired woman’s room, trying to get far back into the dark so that the
people wandering around wouldn’t notice her. Fights and screams continued
throughout the night, yet she sat, trance-like, not letting herself think about
anything else as she waited for Murdock to re-emerge.

Dawn’s first light washed the streets when she heard
footsteps descending on the wooden stairs. She snapped open her eyes to see
Murdock strolling along the side of the building. He was there, right in front
of her. With fingers numb from the cold night air and the long wait, she lifted
her rifle and peered through the sight at him. But as quickly as she did, she
lowered it again. If she followed him, he might lead her to Tanner. She could
get them both and this nightmare, this living hell, would be over.

She mounted and followed him to the livery stable on Sixth
Street. Emerging on a dun, he rode off at a good clip eastward, away from town.

She followed at a fair distance. He and Tanner must have a
hideout near Tombstone, she thought. That would explain why she kept hearing
rumors of them being nearby, but no one ever seemed to know where they stayed,
or why they’d appear and then vanish into thin air.

Murdock rode like a man without a care in the world. For
nearly two hours, as the sun rose, they kept going, Murdock ahead and Gabe far
behind him. Although they headed straight toward a cluster of mountains, the
open desert was a bad place to try to trail someone. The vistas were too great,
and Gabe had to carefully keep to the low ripples of the land not to be
noticed.

When Murdock reached the mountains and turned up into
them, Gabe lost him. She was desperate and urged her horse ahead, faster and
farther. She feared catching up to him, but she feared losing him altogether
even more. The rock hard ground held no prints that she could see.

She rode deeper into the mountain. The brush was high, not
low as it was on the desert floor, and a few trees clung to the hillside. For
over two hours she searched, cursing herself the whole while. Then, finally,
she spotted a small gray cabin perched on a flat ledge. Beside it was a narrow
corral with a dun that looked like the one Murdock had been riding. No other
horses and no signs of life were nearby.

She wondered how close she could get without Murdock
seeing her. She had no way of knowing whether he was asleep now or had slept at
his woman friend’s place and so was wide awake.

After tying Maggie to a pinyon, she pulled her rifle from
the scabbard, and began a slow climb along the hillside toward the cabin. She
didn’t follow a straight line, but instead went down the mountain to a spot
directly below the cabin, then climbed straight up the steep slope to it. If
Murdock were looking out the window or standing at the door, she’d be out of
his line of sight.

She slung the rifle strap over her shoulder and carefully
began her upward ascent, clinging to the smooth boulders with her fingers. As
she neared the clear area below the cabin, she was particularly quiet. A part
of her couldn’t believe that she’d gotten this close to the man, or that the
fourth piece of her revenge was near to being fulfilled. Her knees were rubbery
with fear, but she couldn’t back down now. Somehow, she’d succeed. She’d get
her vengeance.

She was trying to hoist herself onto a ledge from a steep
incline when she heard the crunch of shoe leather on small rocks.

She glanced up. Luke Murdock stood at the top of the hill,
his rifle pointed at her. "No!" she shouted.

He took aim and fired.

o0o

Upon arriving in Tombstone, McLowry rode straight to the
Crystal Palace Saloon.

"Where’s Clara?" he demanded of the bartender.

"Sharon!" the man yelled. "Get Clara down
here."

"Tell her I don’t give a damn how she looks,"
McLowry bellowed. "Just get her here fast."

Sharon raised her eyebrows and hurried up the stairs.

McLowry gulped down a straight whiskey, and in a little
while Clara appeared at the top of the stairs. She took one look at him and
turned around. He bolted up the stairs after her, reaching her before she made it
back into her room. He grabbed her arm and spun her toward him, then shoved her
back against the wall. "McLowry! Let go of me!"

"Where’s Tanner?"

"How should I know? God, I thought you were dead! I
wept my eyes out for you, Jess!"

 "Give it a rest, Clara. You’re lucky I don’t
wring your neck, and I will, if you don’t cut the crap and tell me where to
find Tanner. I know you know him. You’re just his type."

She touched his chest with one finger. "I’m your
type, too, Jess. Remember?"

He grabbed her hand in his, nearly crushing it. "I’m
in no mood for games. I’m trying to save someone’s life."

Clara lifted an eyebrow. "Not that young chit you
were traveling with?"

"Yes...that young chit. The one you nearly got killed
sending Blackie Lane after her."

"Killed?" she paled. "I didn’t want her
killed--"

"Tell me where to find Tanner."

She winced, but whether it was from his tone, his look, or
the way he held her, he didn’t know or care. He squeezed her hand tighter.

"All right!" she cried.

He let go of her hand.

"Tanner’s got a hideout somewhere near here. In the
hills. I don’t...wait. One-Eyed Pearl has been keeping time with Tanner’s
partner, Murdock, for years. She would know where their hideout is."

"Where can I find this One-Eyed Pearl?"

She tightened her lips defiantly.

He pressed his hand to her face, his fingers against her
cheek while his thumb hooked under her jaw and pressed against her throat. The
back of her head hit the wall as he tilted her head upward. He could kiss her
or crush or throat. It all depended on her answer.

Her eyes widened. "I’ll show you," she
whispered.

They left the Crystal Palace and hurried to a side street.
Pearl opened the door just a crack, enough for McLowry to see a shock of curly
red hair and lips and a cheek that were black and blue and swollen. "Go
away," she murmured.

"Hold it." He put his foot against the door to
stop her from closing it.

Clara peered over his shoulder so that Pearl could see
her. "It’ll just take a minute, Pearl."

Pearl’s one eye bobbed from one to the other, then she
opened the door and stepped aside. Her face was not only black-and-blue, but
also aged beyond her years. He suspected she wasn’t yet out of her twenties,
but drink and poor living had made her skin sallow and puffy. She shrugged a
green robe upward to cover the shoulder it had slid from, but not before he
noticed her pendulous breasts and soft, flabby arms.

Clara stared at her. "What happened to you?"

"I walked into a door." She lightly patted her
split lip.

"A door called Luke Murdock?" McLowry asked.

Pearl gripped Clara’s arm. Her voice quivered. "I
never said nothing about Murdock."

"We won’t tell him." Clara patted her hand.
"What happened?"

Pearl dropped into a chair in front of the vanity.
"He was mad that Lotta Crabtree didn’t show up. He was convinced she’d
have taken one look and fallen for him. As the night went on, he kept drinking,
getting madder that he was with an old one-eyed whore instead of the beautiful
Lotta. That was just an excuse, though."

"Damn him!" Clara cried. "Did you see a
doctor?"

"No need, Clara. This ain’t the first time he done
this to me. Probably won’t be the last."

"I’ve got to find him, Pearl," McLowry said.

She shook her head. "I recognize you, gunfighter. I thought
you was dead. Anyways, Will Tanner wants you dead. Murdock’ll gladly kill you
for him. I shouldn’t even talk to you."

"I’m not about to tell him."

"It don’t matter. He’ll find out. He always
does."

McLowry stepped closer. "I’m sorry about what he did
to you, Pearl." He put on his most gentlemanly Southern accent. "I
won’t tell anyone I’ve been here, and neither will Clara." He glared at
Clara until she nodded in agreement. "It’s just that I’ve got to know how
to find Murdock and Tanner’s hideout."

She poured herself a whiskey. The way she looked and
smelled, it was clear she’d had plenty already. "Or what? You’ll beat me?
Or, will you shoot me?" She tossed back the whiskey in one gulp.

He gently took her hand and crouched in front of her, eye
level. She tried not to look at him, but the force of his gaze drew her back
again. "There’s a young woman bent on killing Tanner," he began.
"If she can’t find him here in town, she might go after Murdock. I need to
find them first."

Through the fog of pain, self-pity and whiskey, Pearl
seemed to hear his words with interest. "A young woman?"

He stroked her hand. "She’s no match for a man like
him. I’ve got to help her--if it’s not too late. Please, Pearl. Help me."

A shudder went through the woman, but then she shook her
head.

"Think of it, Pearl," he urged, his voice soft
and gentle. "Think of what men like Tanner and Murdock would do if they
got their hands on a girl like that. Is that what you want to have happen? Is
that what you want on your conscience?"

She pulled her hand from him. "You are a
sweet-talker, McLowry...I mean,
whoever
you are." She put her hands
on her knees, her head hanging, and heaved a sigh. "All right. I’ll tell
you how to find his place."

o0o

As McLowry climbed the mountain, he knew he must be close
to the cabin that Pearl had described. Hearing a sound, he stopped and
dismounted. He held his horse’s muzzle quiet as he listened.

It was another horse. He could just make out the bored
stamping and snorting of the animal. He tied his own horse, then crouching, ran
toward the sounds.

He stopped short when he recognized Maggie. He approached
cautiously, knowing someone might be watching her, waiting for her owner to
return.

A jackrabbit scurrying through the brush made McLowry
reach for his gun.

He found small boot prints.
Damn it, Gabe,
he
thought,
why did you do this?
More than anything else, the surrounding,
invasive silence of the mountain shook him.

Her footprints soon disappeared on the rocky terrain.
Continuing forward, at a ridge, he caught a glimpse of the cabin clinging to a
small, flat plateau.

Although it would take longer, McLowry decided to climb up
to the top of the plateau from where he was, circle around behind the cabin,
and then ease himself down to it.

The quiet of the cabin and the area around it sent a chill
through him. Imagining Gabe in there with Will Tanner made his footsteps surer
as he climbed up the mountain. Quietly, he crossed the slippery crest, and
quickly, he descended.

He crept to a small, dirt-encrusted window. Using an old
trick, he put his hat on the barrel of his gun and slowly raised it in front of
the window. Better the hat, rather than his head, be blown away by someone
waiting in the cabin.

The hat wasn’t shot at.

McLowry darted in front of the window and tried to peer
inside. He couldn’t see a thing through the dirt. If Gabe were in there, why
was it so quiet? And if she wasn’t, then where was she?

He crawled to the door. Crouching low, his six-shooter
ready, he reached for the doorknob.

In one swift movement, he turned the knob, pushed the door
open and hurled himself inside. The cabin was empty. But wood in the cookstove
was still warm, and the smell of coffee still hung in the air. Murdock or
Tanner or both had been here. The question was, where were they now...and where
was Gabe?

He heard the crunch of dried mesquite leaves outside and
dove for cover even before turning to see if the sound was his imagination or
true danger. A bullet hit the wall where his head had been a split second
earlier. He spun around and fired three shots at the spot he’d seen the rifle
fire.

All was quiet. Then he heard the clatter of a rifle
falling, followed by the thud of a body.