Last Stand at Saber River - Leonard Elmore John (бесплатная регистрация книга TXT) 📗

They’ll wreck it for good this time, Cable thought.

If you let them.

He felt the tenseness inside of him, but he was not squeezing the Spencer and his legs felt all right. Stepping from the barn, he glanced toward the back of the adobe. The clearing between the pine slope and the house was empty. Then he was running across the yard, watching the front now, until he reached the windowless side wall of the house. He edged along to the front, cocked the Spencer and stepped around.

Vern and Austin Dodd were coming out of the front door, under the ramada now, Vern with his hands empty, his Colt holstered again, Austin Dodd holding the Sharps in one hand, the barrel angled down but his finger through the trigger guard. Both men saw Cable at the same time, and both were held motionless by the same moment of indecision.

Cable saw it. He stopped, ready to fire if either man moved a finger, waiting now, leaving the decision with them and almost hoping to see the barrel of the Sharps come up.

“Make up your mind,” Cable said, even though he felt the moment was past. He moved toward them, along the log section of the house, until less than a dozen strides separated him from the two men.

“You came to wreck it a second time?”

“I came to talk,” Vern said flatly. “That first.”

“With your gun in your hand.”

“So there wouldn’t be an argument.”

“Well, you’ve got one now.”

Vern’s gaze dropped to the carbine. “You better put that down.”

“When you get off my land.”

“If you want a fight,” Vern said, with the same sullen tone, “one of us will kill you. If you want to come along peacefully, I give you my word we won’t shoot.”

“Come where?”

“To Fort Buchanan.”

Cable shook his head. “I’ve got no reason to go there.”

Vern stared at him, his full mustache accentuating the firm line of his mouth. “I’m not leaving before you do,” he said. “Either shoot your gun off or let go of it.”

Almost at once Cable had sensed the change in Vern Kidston. Four days ago he had stood covering Vern with a gun and Vern had calmly told him that he would outwait him. But now something had changed Vern. Cable could hear it in the flat, grim tone of the man’s voice. He could see it on Vern’s face: an inflexible determination to have his way now. There would be no reasoning with Vern, no putting it off. Cable was sure of that. Just as he knew he himself would not be budged from this place by anything less persuasive than a bullet.

Still, momentarily, he couldn’t help wondering what had brought about the change in Vern, and he said, “So you’ve lost your patience.”

“You visited Duane last night,” Vern said. “We’re returning the call.”

“I never left this house last night.”

“Like you don’t know anything about it.”

“Well, you tell me what I did. So I’ll know.”

“In case you didn’t wait to make sure,” Vern said, “I’ll tell you this. Duane’s dead. Either one of the bullets would have killed him.”

Cable stared at Vern, almost letting the barrel of the Spencer drop and then holding it more firmly. He could not picture Duane dead and he wondered if this was a trick. But if Vern was making it up, what would it accomplish? No, Duane was dead. That was a fact. That was the reason Vern was here. And somebody had killed him.

Janroe.

Janroe, tired of waiting. Janroe, carrying the war, his own private version of the war, to Duane. It could be Janroe. It could very well be and probably was without any doubt Janroe.

But he couldn’t tell Vern that. Because to convince Vern it was Janroe he’d have to explain about the man, about the guns, and that would involve Luz and Manuel. And then Vern would go to the store and Martha and the children were there now, and they’d seen enough…too much. Besides, this thing between him and Vern still had to be settled, no matter what Janroe had done.

Cable said, “I didn’t kill your brother. If I had sneaked up to kill anybody, if I’d carried it that far, it would have been to put a sight on you.”

“You’re the only man who had reason to do it,” Vern said.

“That might seem to be true,” Cable answered. “But I didn’t. Like you’re the only one who had reason to wreck my house. Did you do it?”

“I never touched your place.”

“So there you are,” Cable said. “Maybe we’re both lying. Then again, maybe neither of us is.”

“You’re not talking your way out of it,” Vern said flatly.

“I don’t have to.” Cable raised the carbine slightly. “I’m holding the gun.”

“And once you pull the trigger, Austin will put a hole through you.”

“If he’s alive,” Cable said, centering his attention on Austin Dodd who was still holding the Sharps in one hand, the tip of the barrel almost touching the ground. The man seemed even more sure of himself than Kidston. He studied Cable calmly, with an intent, thoughtful expression half closing his eyes.

Like you don’t have a gun in your hand, Cable thought, watching him. He’s not worried by it because he knows what he’s doing. So you go for Austin first if you go at all.

In his mind he practice-swung the Spencer on Austin, aiming to hit him just above his crossed gun belts. When a man is stomach-shot he relaxes and there is no reflex action jerking his trigger, no wild dead-man-firing. Then he pictured swinging the carbine lower and farther to the left. Austin might drop and roll away and it would be a wing shot, firing and letting the man dive into it. No, it wouldn’t be like that, but that’s the way it would seem. He thought then: That’s enough of that. If you have to think when it’s happening, you’ll be too late.

The silence lengthened before Austin Dodd spoke.

“He talks, but he’s scared to do anything.”

Kidston said nothing.

Austin Dodd’s eyes still held calmly, curiously on Cable. “I’ve got him thought out but for one thing. Where’d he buy the nerve to kill Joe Bob?”

“Ask him,” Kidston said.

“He’ll say he killed him fair.” Carefully, Austin raised his left hand and pulled on the curled brim of his hat, loosening it on his head and replacing it squarely.

“Maybe,” he said then, “we ought to just walk up and take the gun away from him.”

Cable watched him. A moment before, as Austin adjusted his hat, he was sure the man’s eyes had raised to look past him. And just before that Austin had started talking. Not a word from him until now.

To make sure you keep looking at him, Cable thought. He felt his stomach tighten as he pictured a man behind him, a man at the corner of the house or coming carefully from the direction of the barn with his gun drawn. Austin was staring at him again. Then-there it was-Vern Kidston’s gaze flicked out past him. Vern looked at Cable then, quickly, saw his intent stare, and let his gaze wander aimlessly toward the willows.

Now you’re sure, Cable thought, wanting to turn and fire and run and not stop running until he was alone and there was quiet all about him with the only sounds in the distance.

But he made himself stand and not move, his mind coldly eliminating the things that could not happen: like whoever it was being able to sneak up close to him without being heard; or suddenly shooting Vern and Austin Dodd standing directly in front of him, in the line of fire.

So, it would be timed. The moment they moved, the second they were out of the way, the man behind him would fire. It came to that in Cable’s mind because there was no other way it could be.

And it would come soon.

Watch Austin and go the way he goes.

It would be coming now.

But don’t think and listen to yourself.

You’ll hear it. God, you’ll hear it all right.

You’ll even see it. You’ll see Austin-

And Cable was moving-spinning to the outside, pushing himself out of the line of fire and throwing the carbine to his shoulder even before Austin Dodd and Kidston hit the ground. With the sound of the single shot still in the air, he was putting the carbine on Wynn Dodd, thirty feet away and in the open, standing, holding his Colt at arm’s length.