Longhorn Country (3 page)

‘Calm down!’ Blaine stood, having the advantage now, and he pinned her down with one knee, fought to control her slashing hands as she beat at him, bearing her back relentlessly against the bank.

Lucas heard the horse racing in hard and glanced up
from his books under the cottonwood, frowning and standing quickly. He recognized Clem Hardesty rowelling his mount, lashing at it with his quirt, his swollen lips drawn back from his teeth. He reined down and started yelling before the horse had stopped skidding.

‘The river!’ Clem panted, pointing behind him. ‘Alamo sent me down to tell – Blaine to hurry up …’ He swallowed, fighting for breath. ‘He’s there – with Miss Kitty! He’s half-nekked and her blouse is all wet and half torn off – Looks like he’s tryin’ to – rape her!’

Lucas felt a cold knot tightening in his belly, as it always did at some unexpected news of a disaster he would have to do something about … Then it passed and the rage at the thought of that half-breed Blaine trying to rape his sister shook him violently.

‘Send someone for Morgan – Then you bring Clint Rendell and any others you can grab and lead me to the river!’

He reached for his six gun, knowing he would never use it, but making the visible gesture. Hardesty was already swinging away, smiling crookedly.

‘You’re in real trouble this time, breed!’
he murmured and called to Clint Rendell who was riding up to see what all the hurry was about.

By now, Blaine had some measure of control over the hysterical girl. She had calmed down to the point where she was no longer trying to tear his eyes out but she was still sobbing uncontrollably and it took him some time to make out what she was saying as she clung to him.

‘Oh – Blaine! I’m so – ashamed! Father will kill me! When he finds out!’

He recalled the knife then, its blade poised between her breasts over her heart. He felt chilled.

‘What the hell can it be, Kitty, to make you – want to kill yourself? That’s what you were going to do, isn’t it?’

She nodded miserably. ‘I – I couldn’t work up the – courage to push the knife in….’

‘Thank God for that – but – why…?’ She shook her head, muttered ‘I’m too ashamed!’ and he shook her, making her look up at him. ‘Kitty – I dunno what it is, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll help you whatever your problem – just – tell me – so I’ll know what to do….’

She almost smiled for a brief moment, lifted one shaking hand to stroke his gouged cheek. ‘Oh, look what I’ve done to you! … I – I should’ve known you’d be the one to – understand, Blaine – forgive me….’

‘You don’t have to ask my forgiveness for anything, Kitty – I thought you knew that.’

She nodded, still sniffling. ‘Yes – there – there’s this girl at College – Christina McGovern. She’s kind of boy crazy and she – took me to a party. We – sneaked out of dorm and went to this – party at the Young Gentleman’s School—’ She paused, snorted. ‘
Young Gentlemen
! They don’t know the meaning of the word – they – they put some – alcohol in my fruit juice, kept doing it. I – didn’t know till too late – and—’ She choked off unable to go on but he gentled her and stroked her stringy, sand-clogged
hair and she blurted it all out so that she had finished speaking for some seconds before he had separated the words and taken their meaning. ‘One of the boys seduced me and now I find I’m pregnant and Father will disown me at best, kill me at worst! I’m so – afraid and – ashamed, Blaine! The shame is the worst, I think….’

He pulled her against him but she started to panic again and began to beat at his shoulders as he said desperately, ‘You don’t have to worry about anything, Kitty! I’ll take care of you – Your father doesn’t have to know anything about this. No one need ever know. I – I’ll marry you and we’ll…’

‘Like hell you will!’

They leapt apart as a bunch of men charged out of the brush and swept on to the river bank, a raging, mad-eyed Morgan O’Day in the lead, a gloating Lucas and Clem Hardesty only a pace or two behind.

Once, when Blaine was eleven years old, he had saddled Morgan’s bay Arab when the rancher was out on the range, working mavericks with a crew of cowhands. Lucas warned him he was taking a big risk. A
mighty
big risk….

‘Pa’ll never know unless you tell him.’ Blaine, at that time, still believed Morgan was his real father and that Lucas and Kitty were his brother and sister. It was only after he turned twelve that Morgan O’Day told him of his true background.

‘He said no one is to ride that horse but him,’ Lucas said smugly. ‘
No
one!’

‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy, Luke,’ Kitty said, smiling at the hesitant Blaine – he somehow knew that Lucas would eventually spill the beans, but Kitty’s words helped decide him to ride the Arab now. ‘Go on, Blaine – I’ll see that Luke doesn’t tell Dad. If he does – well, I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding
something
that Luke has done that he shouldn’t have … All right, Brother Dear?’

Blaine gave Kitty a brief smile and climbed on to the lower rung of the corral fence so he could reach the stirrup, then floundered his way into the saddle on the tall thoroughbred stallion. He touched his heels to the glistening flanks, flicked the reins and the Arab was away, accelerating to full speed,
knowing
there was a lightweight stranger in the saddle. The cowboys didn’t refer to the Arab as ‘Devil Horse’ for nothing.

It went like the wind and after Blaine got his breath and he had lost his hat, he threw back his head and howled a cry that he didn’t know till many years later was the victory call of a Comanche after he had succeeded in taming a wild mustang….

The Arab streaked across the pasture, Kitty waving encouragement, Lucas holding his breath,
half-hoping
something would happen to Blaine.

He got his wish.

The horse stepped into a gopher hole, snapped the fetlock like a stalk of celery and Blaine travelled through the air for a measured fifteen feet before landing in juniper bushes. He lost some hide and tore his shirt and trousers, but, limping, bleeding from the nose, he ran to the floundering Arab that was shrilling in its agony, staggering as it tried to stand firm on three legs, occasionally lowering the useless dangling right foot but immediately raising it again as soon as it touched the ground.

Kitty was in tears, frozen, unable to move, one hand at her mouth, knowing full well what dreadful
punishment was now awaiting Blaine. Lucas knew, too, but he smiled slyly.

‘I won’t
have
to tell Pa anything now!’ he said and Kitty recovered enough to turn to him and sob, ‘I
hate
you. Lucas O’Day! I wish you weren’t my brother, you miserable sneak!’

Names never hurt Lucas, least of all any that his younger sister called him. Morgan O’Day called him a few names, too, when he rode back from the
maverick
round-up. But he didn’t waste time: he shot the Arab humanely, then ordered Blaine tied to the corral fence, and took down the buggy whip.

It was Alamo Ames, the Broken Wheel wrangler at that time, who tore Blaine’s shirt down to his waist. He also gave the boy a strip of doubled harness leather to bite on. Blaine turned his head as Morgan shook out the whip’s lash and ordered Kitty and Lucas to be taken to the house. He drew back his right arm and froze when his gaze locked with the boy’s.

Morgan was shocked at the deadly menace in the young face, the flat eyes that sent a chill through his whole body. Then Blaine spoke and even his voice sounded different, more mature, like a young man’s, and bleak as a mid-winter blizzard.

‘Touch me with that whip and I’ll kill you some day.’

Alamo Ames was stunned. ‘Don’t make it worse, boy!’ he said softly, watching his boss. The shock shook him as he saw how pale Morgan’s face was, how tight his lips and how hollow his cheeks had suddenly become. The hand that held the whip was
trembling and, amazed, Alamo saw it start to lower.

Then, abruptly, Morgan’s expression changed to one of outraged determination. The lash sang and slashed across the boy’s bronzed shoulders, branding the flesh forever as it split the skin and raised a welt with purple lips. The lash rose and fell four more times.

‘Throw a pail of water over him to bring him round, then take him to his bunk and rub some salve into his back,’ O’Day ordered, the last words trailing as he saw Blaine’s head turn slowly, spitting out the well-bitten leather, tears wetting his cheeks. But there wasn’t an audible sob or groan of pain and his eyes were colder than before, if possible, but his voice was just as strong, without a quaver.

‘I – warned – you,’ he said.

That was all….

Now, fourteen years later, down at the riverbank, Morgan O’Day started to order Clint Rendell to go fetch his bullwhip, but his glance took in the faded, pale criss-cross scars ridging Blaine’s wide, river-wet shoulders. The memory of the boy’s words and his murderous look came to him again down the long years. Morgan paused, lifted his gaze to Blaine’s eyes and felt the tightness in his chest.

Hardesty and Rendell were covering Blaine with their guns. Lucas was trying to quieten the screaming Kitty and another three cowboys stood around, sober-faced, waiting to see what was going to happen.

Morgan’s words died within him. He cleared his throat angrily and the girl broke free of Lucas, ran to
her father, screaming into his face, small fists hammering at his barrel chest.

‘Leave him! Blaine did nothing! He’s not the father … He was just trying to – help!
Leave him alone!
’

Morgan slapped her. One hard, numbing blow that silenced her, shocked more than hurt. She blinked, a hand touching her reddening face. Morgan wouldn’t look at her. He called to Lucas.

‘Take this – harlot up to the house and lock her in her room! She is to stay there, unfed, without company, until I decide what to do with her.’ His voice was thick and seemed to be choking him.

‘He’s – done –
nothing
I tell you!’ Kitty found her voice, defending Blaine, but Lucas and a cowhand took her arms roughly and dragged her away as she continued to scream her futile protests.

Morgan wouldn’t meet Blaine’s deadly gaze: he knew the man was remembering that time tied to the corrals with the crippled Arab shuddering its last in the hot sun…. Instead of ordering Hardesty and Rendell to get his bullwhip, he said, ‘Tie his hands behind his back.’

Morgan watched as Blaine stood there without resistance and managed to refrain from wincing as Hardesty pulled the ropes brutally into his flesh.

‘The girl’s innocent, Morgan,’ Blaine said slowly. ‘Give her a chance to explain—’

Morgan set bleak eyes on the half-breed. ‘I’d be within my rights to shoot you dead where you stand – but I’ve spent a lot of time and money on you over the years because I gave my word to someone who mattered to me. I’ll keep that word – and you’ll
continue to work for Broken Wheel. But you’ll work to pay me back for all I’ve invested in you since I dragged you out of that stinkin’ Injun cesspit where you were living – you’ll work until you’re too feeble or crippled to bring in an extra cent for Broken Wheel’s benefit – and then I’ll kick you out with only the clothes you stand in. You savvy me, mister?’

Blaine didn’t flinch. That deadpan face stared back at Morgan and almost unnerved him but he forced himself to curl a lip and repeat his last words.
‘Do you savvy what I said…?’

He saw Blaine was going to speak and he began to smile coldly, but the words shocked him into silence.

‘What’re you going to do with Kitty?’

Even Hardesty and Rendell showed just a touch of admiration. The man had been threatened with a life-sentence of hard, unrelenting and certainly
unrewarding
labour – and all he could do was ask what was going to happen to Kitty!

Clem Hardesty admitted silently that that took real guts….

Morgan was flushed, then pale. He stepped forward, slapped Blaine across the face. ‘Get him out of my sight – oh, and, boys, if you think it’s necessary to hammer some sense into this dirty breed, you go right ahead – there’ll be no complaints. As long as you leave him alive.’

Morgan turned away, shaking, sick, then thought of the daughter who had brought shame to the O’Day family and his jaw hardened and his fists curled as he strode angrily across the pasture towards the distant ranch house.

Blaine was down for the fifth time, but once again they wouldn’t leave him be. Rendell, a beefy man with a large bulbous nose and blubbery lips, rubbed his aching right hand, its knuckles split and raw. He raised it to his mouth and sucked hard, spitting a little blood. ‘That enough, you reckon, Clem?’

Clem Hardesty was pouring canteen water over his head and face. He was sweating, his stench making even Rendell keep his distance, and he was breathing hard, raw knuckles running with blood. He looked at his pard now through the dripping curtain of water from his heavy eyebrows.

‘I’m about – winded – and my hands feel like I got ’em caught in the clothes wringer – but I ain’t finished with that sonuver yet.’ He stepped up to Blaine’s body – hands still tied behind him – and kicked him viciously in the ribs three times.

‘Remember what the Old Man said,’ warned Rendell uneasily. ‘Don’t kill him.’

Clem spat, snarling. ‘He’s tough, Injun tough – he’s taken more’n any whiteman I’ve ever beat on, but he can take a helluva lot more yet – an’ he’s gonna!’

He turned on Blaine again, dancing around the prone shape, kicking and stomping. Hard, breathy sounds gusted from the ’breed, blood bubbled from his nostrils and mouth. His jaw was lop-sided, his nose a purple shapeless lump. One eye was swollen and almost closed. The other seemed mostly
undamaged
and just as he was moving away to take a
breather, Hardesty noticed this.

‘Hell, he can still see! I don’t want him to see anythin’ when he comes round – only to
feel
! Shake the bastard up, make him wonder if we’ve finished with him or not….’

‘Best take ’er easy, Clem,’ warned Rendell who was as vicious as his pard, but he knew when to stop. Long ago he had beat a man almost to death and the Judge had told him how lucky he was not to have a hemp necktie.

‘One more cowardly kick in the head and you’d be swinging from my gallows right now! Which is the rightful place for scum like you – but I’m bound by the jury’s decision….’ It had been a long, hard stretch in Yuma that time and Rendell was only
walking
around in freedom now because he had managed to escape – Of course, his name hadn’t been Rendell in those days. Likely there were still wanted dodgers on him back in Arizona…. So he wasn’t really concerned for Blaine’s welfare, only for his own.

If Blaine died at Clem Hardesty’s hands – or boots – he, Clint Rendell would be charged with murder, too.

‘Call it quits, Clem,’ he said finally.

‘When I’m good and ready!’ Hardesty growled and he drew back his right foot, nudged the unconscious Blaine’s head around until the right side was uppermost, then he swung the boot brutally into the eye socket, grinding….

He staggered, doubled up, gasping for breath and Clint Rendell felt sick when he saw the bloody,
mangled face of the breed.

Hardesty straightened slowly and grinned. ‘Now I’m all through … Let’s go get a few drinks in town to celebrate.’

‘What – what about Blaine?’

Clem shrugged. ‘Cut his hands free and leave him – He’ll find his way to help sooner or later….’

But Rendell was deathly afraid that the man might never move again. Even now he didn’t seem to be breathing.

‘You left him out there?’

Morgan O’Day glowered at the blood-spattered hardcases standing before him in the blazing sun by the corrals. His old heart was hammering as he saw the bits of flesh sticking to the toes of Hardesty’s boots –
Blaine’s
flesh – and, while his hatred for the breed was still strong, he felt a pang of alarm. He would later admit that he had been hurt by what he saw as Blaine’s betrayal, but now he was simply shaken as his imagination ran riot and tried to picture what these fools had done to the man he had adopted as a son.

Over the years, in moments of introspection, he had admitted to himself that he cared for and admired the young man – told himself quickly that it was only because Blaine had Katy’s blood flowing in his veins: he was a part of her he could still possess, even though he hated Comanche. And at least half of Blaine’s blood was that of the fearsome Yellow Wolf. But he’d had the pleasure of killing that damn Injun himself, driving home the bullets with all the hatred
built up over five years’ of anguish, wondering about Katy’s fate.

His word had been given – and to Katy herself – so he would honour it, even when he felt like killing Blaine. Which made him think about his daughter and
her
betrayal….

But right now he was facing these two hardcases and he allowed his rage to swell within him and saw them blink and cower before it.

‘If that boy’s dead…!’

‘He ain’t dead,’ muttered Clint Rendell but snapped his mouth shut as Morg’s gaze fell on him.

‘He’ll live, Morg,’ Clem Hardesty said, trying to sound confident. ‘You said it was OK to beat on him – long as we left him alive….’

O’Day knew he had used those words. He hadn’t been thinking clearly,
couldn’t
have been to give these two such latitude. Maybe he’d gone too far … But his mind was in a turmoil, what with Kitty sobbing and screaming up in her room, kicking at the door, and now seeing these two snakes spattered with Blaine’s blood. Lucas seemed to be the only one in any way happy about the situation, and he was sitting astride the top corral post, pretending to write in his tally books, but listening to every word and noting every expression as Morgan tried to decide what to do about these two. He had a terrible feeling they’d killed Blaine….

‘Draw your pay,’ he said abruptly, seeing the shock hit Hardesty and Rendell like a slap in the face with a plate of cold mashed potato. ‘There’ll be a bonus, but you ride out – you’re finished here.’