Tough to Kill (6 page)

“I been hearin' stories about you, sweetheart.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. An' I don't know I ain't a little bit jealous.” McAllister knocked back his whiskey and Evalina followed suit. She poured two more. The whiskey burned its way through the big man and he started to feel good. He needed to feel good for a bit, because a black dog had been sitting on his shoulder ever since Markham had burned his house.

“Carlotta Markham,” he said.

Evalina pulled a face.

“What about me?” she demanded, her eyes devouring him.

“Now don't get the wrong idea, honey,” McAllister told her. “This ain't serious. This is marriage.”

She roared with laughter like a man and slapped him on the chest.

“Remington,” she shrieked,
“you
are dreadful.”

They drank again. McAllister began to even feel better still. Suddenly, Evalina sobered.

“I heard other things,” she said.

“Such as?”

“Kiowa was beat near to death. Them Box M riders was in here boastin' about it.”

“That ain't all. I beat Markham near to death.”

Evalina clapped her hands with delight. Markham had tried to buy her one night for twenty five dollars and she had never forgiven him.

“You did
not
.”

“I did. But Markham trumped my card.”

“How?”

“He burned us out.”

Evalina looked aghast. She stayed still for a moment, thinking about what that involved.

“This means war,” she said. “Aw, Rem, this could be terrible. All them fine boys shootin' at each other an' gettin' killed. The waste.” She leaned forward. “What can I do to help. You want money?” She said it in a whisper because she didn't want anybody hearing her offering money. It had come as a terrible impulse that she had never experienced before. She was surprised at herself.

“I don't want no shootin',” he said.

“But where'll you live? What about that poor li'l girl, Sarie?”

“We'll manage.”

“I'll have Sarie here.”

“She wouldn't come,” McAllister told her with a grin. “She reckons we can't make out without her. Now, let's talk about something nice an' pleasant. What's new around here? What's the gossip of the burg?”

Evalina pouted prettily, thinking. She brightened.

“That ole Markham's race.”

McAllister pricked up his ears.

“What race?”

“Well, you know how he always claims he has the best horse-flesh in the west (an' I reckon he has), well, he aims to hold a race. He's so durned sure of winnin', he's put up a five hundred dollar prize for the winnin' owner.”

McAllister thought a while, drank the whiskey off and burst out laughing.

Evalina said: “You ain't thinkin' of winnin' that money, Rem?”

“I just might have a try,” he said. “I'd like to see the bullfrog's face if one of us took it off'n him.”

The door opened and five men walked in. The man in the lead was Foley. McAllister tensed. Evalina went white to the lips. Foley stared at McAllister for a short moment, then walked to the bar and called for whiskey.

The bartender poured, the men drank and turned to face the room, leaning their elbows on the bar. McAllister poured himself another whiskey and put it down him. He asked himself
if he still felt good and decided that he did. Whether he felt good enough to take on five men, he didn't know.

Evalina whispered hoarsely -

“Rem, get outa here.”

He turned and smiled. Then, still smiling, he turned and looked at Foley.

“Real sorry I wasn't at home when you called, Foley,” he said.

Foley gave a twisted smile. He looked like he was enjoying the situation, knowing the odds were on his side.

“You start somethin' in my house,” Evalina whispered, “an' I'll fetch the law.”

“I'll pay for all breakages,” McAllister told her.

She swore under her breath and took another drink. She needed it.

Foley said: “You wasn't as sorry as me, Rem.”

McAllister said: “Markham owes me for one house, one barn and a corral. He'll pay me plenty, but right now I'll be satisfied with the hides of you five coyotes.”

Five hands came off the bar and lay alongside bolstered guns.

“No,
please
. Rem,” Evalina said.

McAllister stood up. Five hands jerked.

The bartender brought a sawn-off greener into view and said in a bored voice that told of a man who had done the same many times before: “First man 'at touches a gun, I'll blow his fool head off.”

A cowhand looked over his shoulder and said: “You'll pay for this, Nuttall.”

Nuttall said unperturbed: “Take it out on the street.”

McAllister said: “No, we'll take it here. There ain't no greener to say fair play out on the street.”

They heaved themselves away from the bar as one man. Foley was grinning wolfishly. Now he was going to pay McAllister for making him back down.

Still seated, McAllister said: “Evalina, vamoose.”

She hesitated, then fled.

McAllister said: “Let's get at it, boys,”

They charged.

McAllister upended the table with his left and stopped two of them. With his right he whisked the chair from under him and swung it unerringly at the head of the right-hand man.
It smashed and the man went down without a sound. Foley ran in, aimed a kick at McAllister's groin and found his ankle caught in an iron grip. He was upended into the man immediately behind him and they both went down in a heap, McAllister jumped in with both feet into Foley's belly. The wind went out of him noisily. The man Foley had bowled over started getting to his feet and McAllister gave him a knee under the jaw. It didn't knock him out, but he went down again.

The two men the table had stopped ran around either side of it and charged in. McAllister scooped the fallen bottle up from the floor, smashed it over the head of one and fell back under the onslaught of the other. He tripped on a fallen chair and the man jumped at him with both feet. McAllister rolled, launched himself in a dive and caught the man with his shoulder at the knees. When the man landed, it sounded as if the whole hotel had been shattered.

Foley was on his hands and knees coughing and retching.

McAllister got to his feet and ran for the door.

Foley staggered to his feet, pale to green and croaked: “After him.”

Three men were able to get belatedly on the move, pulling guns from their holsters as they went.

McAllister tipped the first one as he came through the door. He somersaulted, hit the edge of the sidewalk on his head and started wandering through the dust on his hands and knees.

The second, who was Foley, McAllister hit over the head with the barrel of his Remington. With a faint groan, he collapsed on the sidewalk.

The third hesitated inside the door, gun in hand.

McAllister said: “Come out or I'll kill you.”

The man tossed his gun onto the sidewalk and walked out on rubber legs.

“I only work for wages,” he said pitifully.

“Earned burning folks' houses,” McAllister reminded him.

The man looked a little sick.

“What happens now?” he asked.

McAllister jerked his chin in the direction of the man on his hands and knees.

“Go gather in your lost friend there,” he said.

The man went and turned the man in the direction of the sidewalk saying: “Mr. McAllister wants you-all.” The man
advanced on hands and knees until he met the edge of the sidewalk and then stretched out on his face in the dust. McAllister leaned up against the wall of the saloon and waited. It wasn't long before Foley started to come around and the man in the dust was able to pull himself together enough to stand up. It seemed that they found it difficult to focus their eyes.

Two men walked out of the saloon and stood looking in a dazed kind of a way at the gun in McAllister's hand. They looked at their three comrades and one said: “Jeesus!”

George Gibson came slowly along the street flanked by his two deputies. Evalina came out of the saloon and surveyed the scene.

George halted near the sidewalk and said: “You know I don't like to see a gun out in my town, Rem.”

McAllister said: “I made a citizen's arrest when the law wasn't available.”

Foley said: “He assaulted us.”

“Yeah,” said McAllister, “all five of you. Ain't I the big bully.”

Evalina said: “Who pays for the damage?” Nobody took much notice of her for a change.

Gibson said: “You makin' charges against McAllister, Foley?”

McAllister smiled. “I'm makin' charges against all five of these polecats.”

Gibson looked like a worried man. He knew this could lead to a lot of trouble that could be hard to handle. If he arrested these men, he could have Markham down on him. He wasn't afraid of any living man, or so he told himself, but that didn't mean he was a damn fool. Life would be a whole lot easier with Markham on his side and not against him.

“What charges?” he asked.

“Assault.”

“You got witnesses?”

“Evalina and Nutall.”

The sheriff turned his eyes to the woman and to her help who had appeared in the doorway. He still held the greener in his hands.

Evalina said: “I wasn't there. McAllister knows I wasn't. I left before the trouble started.”

“My friend,” McAllister remarked.

Nuttall took his lead from his employer.

“I never seen nothin' neither,” he said. “I ducked down behind the bar and didn't see nothin'.”

Gibson suggested: “You must have heard somethin'.”

“I covered my ears. I thought there was goin' to be shootin'.”

Gibson almost smiled. Goad giggled. McAllister's gun was on Foley and it didn't waver. Dolan's right hand moved.

McAllister said: “Watch your hand, deputy,” and Dolan's hand jerked clear of the gun.

Gibson said: “It don't look like you have much of a case, Rem.”

“All right,” McAllister said. “No charge of assault. But what would you call burnin' a man's house and runnin' off his stock? Is that breakin' the law?”

“You know durned well it is.”

“That's what these men did. Take 'em in, George.”

Gibson looked at a loss.

“Foley,” he said, “what do you say to this charge?”

“Deny it.”

“You got witnesses, Rem?”

“Sure.”

“Where're they at?”

“Where Markham can't get at 'em.”

“Well, you bring 'em into town purty damn quick. I ain't holdin' these men long.”

Foley let out a growl.

“You ain't holdin' us a-tall, Gibson. You know what kind of a man this McAllister is. He's a plain trouble-maker. Why didn't he come armed in broad daylight and attack Mr. Markham himself? You can't hold us an' you know it.”

People had collected by this time and were watching the proceedings with interest. The two deputies started shooing them away, they went a few yards and drifted back.

Gibson said: “In view of the charges, I'm takin' you men in. Maybe, the judge'll allow you bail. I hope to hell he does. Too much of a chore, feedin' five of you. The taxes won't bear it.”

McAllister said: “I'll put my gun away, George, if you an' your boys draw yours.”

The law drew their guns.

“Get walkin',” Gibson said and the five men trooped off
through the dust in the direction of the sheriff's office.

McAllister holstered his Remington and the sheriff said over his shoulder: “Best get your witnesses into town fast, Rem.”

McAllister watched them down the street and turned to Evalina.

“My pal,” he said.

Her eyes snapped.

“That's ten dollars' worth of damages,” she said. “I told you no fightin' in my place.”

He took a five dollar piece from his pocket and gave it to her.

“You got gold on your chairs?” he asked. He turned and pushed through the crowd, heading for the livery stable. Here he loaded his pack-horse, saddled up, paid his dues and rode slowly out of town. He crossed the. wooden bridge over the creek and started slowly up the rise beyond. Coming over the crest was a buggy. In it sat Carlotta Markham. She was alone.

At the sight of her, his heart missed a beat and he thought:
You damn fool, you're acting like a kid
. She halted her horse at the top of the crest and waited for him to come up to her. He reined in and lifted his hat.

Carlotta saw a big lean man, Indian dark with lank black hair and eyes that looked almost black too. There was something hawklike and fierce about him as if he were powered by a strongly controlled energy, more force than should have been stored in one man. She should have been afraid of him, but somehow she was not and this puzzled her. She had never been less afraid of any man.

“Why, Mr. McAllister,” she said, displaying a coolness she didn't feel, “this is a surprise.”

For once in his life McAllister didn't know what to say. He looked at her as if he had never seen a woman before. She
looked abashed at his hard stare and lowered her eyes.

He settled his hat back on his head and forced himself to speak.

“I'm taken a-back, ma'am,” he said. “I had a mighty pretty speech prepared for the next time we met. Can't think of a durned word of it now.”

She frowned.

“I have been thinking of what I would say to you, too,” she said. “I heard what my brother did to you.”

“That ain't between you an' me,” McAllister said.

“It's between the Markhams and the three men who run the MC Connected. We owe them a debt and it can never be paid.”

McAllister smiled.

“I wouldn't say that”