Authors: John J. McLaglen
Tags: #historical, #wild west, #gunfighters, #western fiction, #american frontier, #the old west, #john harvey, #piccadilly publishing, #laurence james, #jed herne
The Black Widow (5 page)
‘
Here, Jed?’
‘
No. One day, I guess, Whitey.
But if you can wait a while, then so can I.’
‘
Get this sorted out, then we’ll
come back to it.’
‘
Right.’ Jed grinned,
feeling a sudden rush of pleasure at being with a friend again.
‘Best get back to the girl.’
As they walked together away from the
shambles of death, the snow that Herne had suspected began to fall
in earnest.
Alone with the two horses, higher up
the side of the valley, Becky had waited for Jed to return. Every
now and again she looked across through the snow flurries at Mount
Abora, hanging on the edge of the mountain like a flying buttress
on a cathedral wall. Wondering where Jed was and what he was
doing.
She found it hard to consider the
possibility - the probability - that the house beyond the lake was
the home of the last two members of that snowbound train. The last
two men who’d done that thing to her mother. And then killed her.
She thought for a moment about what it was they’d actually done.
Becky was old enough, and had lived on a homestead long enough, to
have a fair idea of the basic facts of life. But she found it
almost impossible to reconcile the idea of a stallion or a bull,
servicing their mates, with the fading memory of her parents. And
the idea of vengeance for something that had happened nearly a year
ago still seemed strange.
Yet the idea of the killing was oddly
exciting. She had always been frightened of Jedediah Herne, seeing
him as a mystic figure. A man whose name had once been on
everyone’s lips and whose guns once lay wrapped in oiled cloths in
the locked drawers of a bureau. Now she rode alongside him, and
helped him. And watched him kill.
Becky was conscious of a peculiar
fluttering at the pit of her stomach, and she pressed her hand
through the layers of warming cloth. Squeezing her firm young
thighs together.
Smoke from the small fire drifted
around her and she coughed, looking up at the heavy sky, wondering
what she should do if it started to snow and it made the fire smoke
even more. Jed hadn’t told her.
Then she heard shooting.
Muffl
ed and
dim as distant drums, but shooting. She’d heard enough in the last
few months to never ever mistake it again for anything else. She
stood up and ran to the edge of the bluff, shading her hand against
the whiteness, staring towards the house. It seemed still and
quiet, and, in fact, she could have sworn that the noise of the
gunfire had come from the nearer side of the lake.
How many shots had there been? Becky
tried to remember, still listening for a clue as to what might be
happening, the warmth in her stomach turning to a chill of bitter
fear. It had sounded like three or four, but close together, as
though there had been an ambush. And after that, silence. So if
there had been an ambush then it had been successful.
‘
Coburn!’ she
breathed.
The memory of that lean hank of
wind-washed bone with his sunken red eyes and his silky white hair
had stayed with her ever since she first saw him, clouding her
waking hours and haunting her nights. When she woke sweating,
fingernails dug into her palms from the nightmare, it was Isaiah
Coburn who peopled her dark world.
Only the previous night she had been
shaken awake by Jed, shocked by the cold of the night air, eyes
staring at him as though she had never seen him before. He told her
she’d been starting to cry out. She hadn’t told him why. The
nightmare was too present to talk it away.
There’d been a vast, rambling mansion,
like ones she’d seen in engravings in books, with long dusty
corridors, lined with dark oil paintings. She’d been in a white
dress, speckled with the webs of spiders, and she’d been running.
Running as if her life depended on it, along corners, past
guttering lamps. Then she’d been at the top of a flight of wide
stairs, with moldering banisters along a landing. She’d paused and
had looked down over the balustrade, and had seen the thing that
pursued her.
It was
tall, wrapped in a long gown, with a
hood that covered its face, drowning the features in a pool of
black shadow. Becky remembered trying to flee, but her feet
wouldn’t function properly, and she had struggled on as though she
was trapped in a river of molasses, while the creature glided
easily up the stairs after her.
By turning her head to one side she
was able to watch it between the banisters, its face still hidden.
Her heel had caught in a loop of the rotting carpet and she had
fallen full-length, in a dreadful slow-motion flailing, ending up
with her face pressed close to the bars of the staircase, only
inches away from her pursuer.
Slowly, like a dry leaf caught over a
campfire, it moved towards her. Its hand, with long yellow
fingernails, went to the front of the hood, and in a sudden sharp
movement, tugged it off. The memory, even in the cold gray light of
the fall afternoon, made Becky draw her breath.
A face stripped of solid flesh, just
covered in white parchment skin. The eyes set in hollows of fire,
blazing at her with a blind hatred. The mouth a scar torn in the
face, the teeth stained fangs of jagged bone. Hollow caverns of
nostrils, enveloping her with the heavy odor of a
charnel-house.
And the hair!
Spinning and tumbling around that
midnight face like a halo of silver wire, moving with a strange
life of its own.
Becky shuddered. The face had been
that of Whitey Coburn. Once Jed’s closest friend, now his sworn
enemy.
Minutes passed and there was still no
sound from deeper in the valley forest. No more shots. No shouts. A
vast silence, shrouded by the snow that was now falling with real
purpose, spitting on the sticks of the fire, and coating her
clothes in a dappled covering.
For the first time, the young girl
tried to imagine what would happen to her if Jed never returned. It
had always been a possibility. She knew that, though he had never
ever mentioned it to her. She somehow felt that he thought that to
admit the chance of death was in some way to increase the chances
of it happening.
Perhaps she could find a position
teaching school in some growing border township. Or maybe a job in
a saloon. The idea of wearing those silk dresses and flouncy
underskirts, net stockings and red garters, excited her, and she
almost forgot what such a prospect might really mean.
The wind was rising, and it began to howl
among the tops of the trees, showering snow in her face, bringing
her back to the reality of her present situation, to the terror of
being alone among the high Sierras; the only man who’d ever seemed
to care for her gone. Vanished. Lost somewhere in the swirling
blizzard in the valley.
There was a gun in the saddle-bags on
her mare. A little pocket derringer. Becky decided that if nobody
came in two or three minutes, then she’d have to go and look for
Jed. The idea frightened her.
But when those minutes had slipped
emptily by, the fear didn’t stop her.
The fire was gone, already buried
under an inch of snow. Becky was used to snow, remembering the deep
falls that closed them in back at Tucson, but she’d never come
across the speed and violence of this sort of blizzard. She could
hear the horses snickering, and she stumbled towards them, hands
stretched out against the skimming flakes of snow.
She guessed she was
near
by where
they’d tethered them, when something caught her hands, pulling her
forwards so that she lost her balance and nearly fell. The girl
opened her mouth to scream in terror at her unseen attacker when a
hand went across her mouth, clamping the cry dead in her
throat.
‘
Hold still, little girl.’ The
voice was soft. The words clear in her ears despite the
storm.
The hands tugged her into the lee of
the forest, where the snow was less violent, and she was able to
wriggle her head round and see who’d caught her. At that moment he
reached up and tugged his hat loose, revealing his face.
Becky looked in disbelief.
And fainted.
It was the face of her nightmare.
Dead-white face, with glowing coals set in the eye-sockets, above
cheeks chiseled from ivory, and teeth bared in a sinister smile.
Topped by the mane of white hair, floating about the broad
shoulders like a spectral veil.
Whitey Coburn.
‘
I was only going to tell you
Jed was close behind me and for you not to take fright. Didn’t do
too well at that, I guess.’
C
oburn laughed, and Becky huddled deeper in
her clothes, trying not to show the fear she still felt for the
albino. As soon as Jed had appeared, Whitey had handed her over to
him, bundled up in his arms like a bag of dirty laundry. She had
blushed to the roots of her hair with shame at the way Coburn
treated her like a little girl, and she now sat silent while the
two men talked.
Although the earth was hard as stone,
Herne and Whitey had succeeded in gouging out enough for a
primitive wickiup, along similar lines to the one used by the
Apaches. Setting the shelter against the bole of the largest tree
and tethering the horses by it. Coburn’s own stallion was still
down near the lake, in a small cave that they’d found. There was
little point in trying to move in the present weather conditions,
and they had decided to stay put until the next day.
The hut, of stone and branches, was
surprisingly snug, and Becky actually felt warm for the first time
in days. The fire blazed away in the entrance, safely shielded from
any prying eyes across the valley. Not that anyone would be fool
enough to be out in the blizzard. Coburn had brought up more jerky
and their food supply, unappetizing though it was, was now ample
for the next few days.
‘
Guess the boys down there won’t
be needing any of this,’ was the albino’s only comment.
Jed had told the girl the story of
what had happened, omitting nothing. Letting her know just what the
position was between Coburn and himself.
‘
Whitey’s got his job to do,
same as I have. And you to help me. I see that, and I don’t hold it
against him. Time’ll come, if’n we both get through this, when he
and me are going to have to face up to it, and there’s goin’ to be
but one of us rides on.’
Coburn nodded, the firelight catching his
eyes, making them even redder. ‘That’s right, Rebecca. Me and
Jedediah both play the same games, and we play the same sort of
rules. When we’re for each other, then there’s nothing we wouldn’t
do for each other. When we’re out huntin’, like I’m after him, then
there isn’t nothin’ at all we wouldn’t do against each other. You
see that?’
She nodded.
‘
Yes. I
think so, Mister Coburn. But why are you going to help him
now?’
‘
Well. That’s a real fair
question. I’m hired out to take Jed in. And that’s still what I aim
to do. But he’s got him a plateful of trouble with these Stanwycks,
and when I took on this job I didn’t rightly know what lay back of
it. Now I know, and it makes me sick to my guts that I’m on the
wrong side. So I aim to help old Jed out, and try and get us a
couple of brothers. That’ll finish his contract, if that’s what you
like to call it. And then he and me’ll carry on our own private
argument.’
‘
You can’t just forget what this
Senator Nolan’s paying you and help us and then all ride away
friends ?’
‘
No, little lady. That’s
not the way it goes, is it, Jed?’
Herne
looked up. ‘No. That’s right,
Whitey.’
Coburn leaned nearer to Becky who
steeled herself not to recoil from him. It almost seemed as though
he was aware of that and he smiled at her.
‘
Things like this are for
menfolk, Rebecca, and me and Jed wouldn’t rightly expect a woman to
understand that.’
She sniffed. She understood a lot more
than they might think. Content with this thought, Becky prepared to
wrap herself in a couple of blankets and get to sleep. The wind
seemed to be dropping and she guessed that the men might want to
make a good early start in the morning. The girl now saw herself
with the responsibilities of having two men to look
after.
‘
Bed down, Becky. Whitey and
me’ll be doing some talking for a while yet. Shouldn’t concern
you.’
‘
Good night, Mister
Coburn.’
‘
Call me “Whitey”, Miss
Rebecca. The world’s divided into those that I’d kill to hear call
me that, and those that I really like to use the name. And it’s not
too equal a division, neither.’
‘
All right, Whitey, and
you must call me “Becky”, like Jed does. Now we’re friends. Good
night.’
‘
Good night,
Becky.’
Herne
kissed her gently on the cheek. With
the protection of the shelter, it was no longer necessary to cover
up one’s head and face against the cold, and she looked
unbelievably young and vulnerable lying there, eyes closed as his
lips brushed her cheek.
‘
Night, Jed.’
‘
Sleep tight, Becky. Wake
bright.’
She closed her eyes, intending to lie
there and listen in to the men talking, trying to learn a little
more about life. And a little more about Jed Herne.
Although it was only a little past
seven at night, she was asleep within a couple of
minutes.
‘
Spunky little bitch,’ said
Coburn, expertly making a roll-up in one hand, running his pale
tongue along the edge of the paper to seal it.
‘
Yeah. She’s seen a lot of
death. Worries me, Whitey. I tell you that. It’s not right a girl
just turned fifteen should be faced with all this.’
‘
Not right neither a girl
like her should have her Ma screwed and then butchered by a gang of
sons of bitches. Nor have her Pa gunned down in the back in the
puke and sawdust of a bar.’
Jed had filled his friend in with what
had been happening since March, and Coburn had listened quietly,
occasionally nodding his head. A couple of times asking a
question.
‘
Not surprised you’re finding
the punks comin’ out the woodwork once they hear Herne the Hunter’s
back on the road spitting death around. We both been around too
long for that. Each one wanting to be the kid who laid Whitey
Coburn or Jed Herne up there in Boot Hill. I’m tired of it, I tell
you that. I’m about ready to quit and get a spread like you
did.’
‘
How come you never came
visitin’ me and Louise up there? I was kind of hurt.’
‘
Jed...’ Coburn passed him
the cigarette, thin as a straw, and paused for a moment while he
took a draw and handed it back. ‘From what I hear that young lady
married you and saved you from dyin’ in the dust. You was goin’ too
long, and takin’ too many chances. I reckon you’d sort of outlived
your life. Isn’t that right?’
Herne
nodded, poking the fire with the toe
of his boot. ‘Maybe. You see so many good men gunned down that you
begin to wonder why not you as well. And that’s just the first step
along a road. Once you lose faith in your own skill, then you’re
finished. That was when Louise came along and showed me how to live
different.’
‘
That’s it. That’s why I
didn’t come. I was, and still am, a gunman. I never went away like
you. Maybe I never will. But if I’d ridden by, some poor bastard’s
blood all over my hands, you reckon your little lady’d have made me
welcome? No. She’d have given me water for my horse and a bite to
eat for myself, and she’d only have been happy when my ass vanished
round the next bend in the trail. Then she’d have been able to sit
back and know that you hadn’t taken a hankerin’ to go and follow
me.’
‘
Guess you’re right, Whitey.
Louise could never take to violence. That’s why it was so much
worse for her ... what happened that day ... was so bad ...you
know?’
There was a long silence, broken by
Coburn putting a few more sticks on the fire as it sank
low,
‘
Jed? When I caught young Becky,
and she got a touch of the vapors, first thing she said, before you
even turned up out the snow like a white Wendigo, she told me that
she was on her way to come and help you. Seems she’s got a little
derringer in her saddle. On her way to tackle Whitey Coburn and his
gang of desperadoes. And the whole Stanwyck army if need
be.’
Herne
laughed quietly, the noise
penetrating to the girl’s dreams, making her stir, and roll over,
still locked fast in sleep.
‘
She’s got the guts of her Ma.
Her Pa was different. There was something rotten about Bill Yates.
I’d wondered about it, but he wasn’t a bad neighbor, and he kept it
buried. Now and again it’d sort of spark through. On top he wasn’t
bad, but there was nothing to back it up.’
Coburn chuckled. ‘Puts me in mind of
that vigilante marshal in Durango. Back in the early seventies.
Posted us both out of town, with his white affidavits.’
Herne
smiled too at one of the host of
shared memories. ‘Thought those damned affidavits were some kind of
magic potion to scare us away.’
‘
Posted the whole damned town.
Every damned door and wall. “Whereby by the decision of the good
and upright citizens of Durango the below-named are declared hereby
posted on this white affidavit as being not welcome. Isaiah Coburn
and Jedediah Herne. And if I catch them in town I shall crap my
damned britches!” Yeah!’
‘
Remember his face when we
rode in that morning, and took him for a walk with us? Your rope
round his neck, and made him take down every one of his posters
with his bare hands.’
‘
Then we got that Chinee
cook out the saloon and got him to boil them all down into a kind
of thick sludge. Got a table from the saloon there and sat the poor
son of a bitch marshal down in the middle of his own main street in
front of those fine brave vigilantes and helped him eat the whole
shooting-match.’
Both of them laughed at the memory, until
Herne’s face hardened. ‘That was an easy one, Whitey. What about
that Mount Abora place?’
For the next hour and more they talked
about the target, pooling what little information they had. Herne
summed it up.
‘
Twelve men. Some of them double
as servants and guns. There’s two who are just servants. All the
way from London, England, they say. Butler and a housekeeper. The
mother, who they reckon eats horseshoes and spits out the nails.
And the two boys.’
Coburn
nodded. ‘That’s what I hear. That’s
the bad news, but the good news is that I reckon not many of their
men are worth a candle in a hurricane. Mostly young punks like we
took down the valley this afternoon. They shouldn’t be the real
problem. No, that’s gettin’ in the place. Like a fortress, they
say.’
Gradually, as they sketched in the
plans of the house, a sort of a possibility appeared. The trouble
was there were so many blank areas in their map, where they had no
idea what they’d find in there. But that would come
later.
‘
So that’ll be it,’ said Whitey,
leaning back, and stretching his boots out to the fire which was
now smoldering down to a few glowing cinders.
‘
Yeah. Let’s get us some sleep.
I’m going out for a leak.’
Herne
climbed stiffly across the small
shelter, pulling up his coat collar as he went outside, but the
snow had miraculously stopped. The night was as cold as charity,
but clear and sharp. The stars points of glittering light. A sliver
of moon hung low down over the hills.
When he came back, still buttoning up his
trousers, Coburn lay out by the fire, half asleep.
Pulling a blanket from the roll, Jed
threw it to his old friend. ‘Get turned in, Whitey.’
‘
Jed?’
‘
Yes?’
“
The girl?’
‘
What about
her?’
‘
You heard what the kids said.
Nolan’s got a contract out on her too. But not with me. As long as
Nolan’s alive then it’s not just you he’s after. You’ve got to get
her somewheres well away from his arm. And it’s a mighty long
arm.’
‘
I been doin’ me some thinkin’
along just those lines Whitey. I heard there’s some good places out
in Europe. A place called Berkshire near London, England. Damn
pricey, but I reckon it might be worth it. Keep her away a year or
so, until things blow over. Or... ’
The options he left dangling involved
the both of them too closely for either of them to want to discuss
them. Within a day either or both of them might be dead. Lying
under the snow like the five young men only a half mile or so from
where they camped. And even if they survived against the Stanwycks,
then what?
‘
Good night,
Whitey.’
‘
Night, Jed. Good to be out on
the trail again with you. Real good.’
There was a silence for a few moments,
then Herne sat up.
‘
What in the name of God’s
that smell? Someone set fire to your feet?’
C
oburn also sat up, moving a little further
from the dying fire. In the pale light, they both saw the wisps of
smoke curling up from the soles of his boots where he’d left them
too near the ashes.
‘
Damned cold
tonight.’
‘
That smell, put you in mind of
anything, Jed? That and a fire?’
‘
Not of anything I care to
recall. Though we could do with that sort of heat right
now.’
‘
Went back to that part of
Kansas, near where Lawrence used to be. Brought it all back. Must
be near on twenty years ago we took that place apart.’