Drifter 5 Page 2

  ‘That was just a warning. The next feller who tries something on, I’ll stop with a .44 Henry. Consider yourselves warned.’

  He turned back to Porter. As he did so, he saw the shock on the woman’s face at the brutality she’d witnessed.

  ‘All I wanted to do was ask for a job.’

  ‘Get the hell out of here,’ Porter snapped.

  ‘I guess that’s a no. Oh well.’

  Savage turned and walked back through the crowd that parted for him, not wanting to test the warning they’d been given. At the bar, the barkeep said, ‘Great way to ask for a job.’

  ‘Feller got his ambitions mixed up with his capabilities is all. Who is he, anyway?’

  ‘Brock Trent. Rode for the old man in the war. Considers himself his right hand. Some say he’s going to marry Porter’s daughter.’

  Savage nodded. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Mavis.’

  The Drifter looked at him. ‘No shit? He actually called his daughter that. I can think of plenty other names that would suit. Mavis ain’t one of them.’

  ‘They say she’s as tough as her old man.’

  ‘She’ll need to be if she plans on going on the trail drive.’

  There was movement in the large mirror behind the bar and Savage noticed the three of them leave. Trent was still a touch uncertain on his feet and was being helped by Mavis Porter.

  The batwings swung shut behind them and soon after came the sound of gunshots followed by a high-pitched scream.

  Savage followed the crowd outside as they surged through the door. In the middle of the street, he saw Mavis bent over her father as she tried to stem the flow of blood from his chest. Beside them stood Trent, six-gun in his hand while he searched for a target.

  When none presented itself, he holstered the weapon and knelt beside the distraught woman. After a couple of moments, he stood erect and eased her up by her shoulders. Her father was dead.

  Then Savage noticed something else. Across the street, Breen and Milt had appeared. With them were two men the Drifter guessed were those he’d seen earlier. As he watched them, he thought he saw a smile come to Breen’s lips then disappear.

  He looked back at the two figures standing next to Porter’s corpse. The woman had her face buried in Trent’s shoulder as she shook visibly with the outpouring of her grief. Trent, on the other hand, looked over at Breen. That’s when Savage saw it. An almost imperceptible nod that told him that something was very wrong.

  Two hours after the death of Linc Porter, Breen, Milt, and Trent were all having a celebratory drink in the back room of the Charity Saloon.

  ‘Here’s to our acquisition,’ Breen told Trent, holding a full glass high.

  ‘We ain’t got the herd yet,’ the ramrod pointed out.

  ‘We will when my men refuse to work for a woman. I’ll be right there when it happens, and I’ll buy them for a song.’

  ‘I hope it’s that easy.’

  ‘It shall be.’

  ‘I been thinking,’ Trent said.

  Breen glanced at Milt. ‘Uh oh. I sense that we are about to have a problem.’

  Trent shook his head. ‘No problem. There’s around fifty-thousand dollars out there on the edge of town. Two-thousand head of prime beef that I’ll be in charge of driving north. I figure that’s worth a couple extra thousand at least.’

  Breen frowned and shook his head. ‘Oh, dear. Greed is not good for a business relationship, Mr. Trent.’

  ‘I don’t consider—’

  Breen’s voice grew harsh. ‘No, you didn’t consider anything. So, listen up. This is my plan, not yours. I didn’t pay off the last crew so the herd could slip through my fingers now. And when I purchase the cattle, they will be mine, not yours. You will be working for me, and as such, you will do as I frigging well say. Do you understand?’

  Trent thought about arguing but the spark in the saloon owner’s eyes warned him against it. He nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Breen gave him a mirthless smile. ‘Good. Except now you get two-thousand instead of five. I won’t abide greed.’

  ‘What? Now hang on …’

  ‘Milt!’ Breen snapped.

  The gunman’s shoulder dipped, and his hand came up holding a cocked six-gun.

  Trent’s eyes widened, and his hands came up. ‘Whoa. Hold on there. I didn’t say I wouldn’t take it.’

  Breen nodded. ‘I’m glad we understand each other. Now we can concentrate on getting that herd.’

  Savage had planned on leaving Deadman the following morning, after the death of Porter and the unlikelihood of a job. But something had nagged at him since the murder of the herd owner, so, after a breakfast of bacon and eggs at the hotel, he decided to hang around and see how things played out. He couldn’t help thinking that Breen was up to something and the young woman was about to be on the receiving end of whatever that was.

  By midmorning, Savage started to find out what it was when he came across a gathered crowd in the main street.

  He approached the group from along the boardwalk and stopped once within earshot. The Drifter leaned against an awning upright outside the barbershop and listened. In the center of the group of cowboys stood Mavis Porter, Trent, Breen, and Milt.

  ‘No!’ Mavis exclaimed. ‘I’ll not sell to him or anyone else. I’ll take them to Cheyenne myself if need be.’

  ‘That’s just it, May,’ Trent told her. ‘The boys aren’t going to work for you. They signed with your pa.’

  ‘Then I’ll hire a new trail crew,’ she paused and said defiantly, ‘And a new ramrod. Surely I can find more men looking for work.’

  ‘Not around here you won’t,’ Breen said.

  Mavis set her jaw firm and stared at the saloon owner. ‘I can sure as hell try.’

  Savage nodded. She had pluck, he had to give her that.

  She turned and looked over the men surrounding her before calling out, ‘Are any of you willing to come with me?’

  Not one man answered.

  ‘I see,’ she said despondently.

  ‘It’s a good price, May,’ Trent pointed out.

  Her eyes flared. ‘The hell it is. Ten dollars a head is an insult.’

  Breen cleared his throat. ‘Well, actually that’s not quite accurate. That was the price I offered your pa. Your price is five.’

  Mavis Porter’s jaw dropped. ‘Why you thieving son of a bitch. You go to hell. I’ll not sell a damned cow to you while I’m still breathing. Pa wouldn’t and neither will I.’

  ‘May …’ Trent started.

  ‘Shut your mouth! I used to think a lot of you. But now I realize you’re no better than this four-flusher.’

  She went to storm off, but the trail crew blocked her way.

  ‘It would pay for you to see sense,’ Breen told her.

  ‘I’ll take your herd.’

  Everyone turned and stared at the man who leaned against the upright.

  ‘You keep out of this, Yank,’ Trent growled. ‘This ain’t none of your concern.’

  Savage ignored him. ‘I’ll take your herd to Cheyenne, Miss Porter.’

  ‘Where do you think you’ll find a crew?’ Breen asked.

  The Drifter settled his steely gaze on Breen as he spoke to Mavis Porter. ‘Ma’am, I’ll get a crew that’ll work for you. It might cost you a little extra, however, I guarantee they’ll get the herd through.’

  Breen’s eyes glittered. ‘You sound mighty confident, Savage.’

  ‘Just stating facts.’

  The next person to speak was Mavis Porter. ‘All right, Mr. Savage. If you can find me a crew, the job is yours.’

  Savage shook his head. ‘Nope. I’ll get your crew. If you want me, you hire me now.’

  She stared into his eyes and nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m the boss, what I say goes.’

  ‘Done.’

  The Drifter saw the urgent exchange of glances between Trent and Breen. Next thing the ramrod said, ‘Okay, May, we’ll take the herd to Ch
eyenne for you. I’ll take it.’

  ‘Not your problem any more, Trent,’ Savage said.

  He ignored the Drifter. ‘May?’

  Savage pulled away from the upright but stayed on the boardwalk where he could get a better view of the crowd.

  ‘If you want to talk to someone, Trent, you talk to me. I’m the boss, now. The lady appointed me. Didn’t you hear? Maybe you’re deaf.’

  ‘I’ve had about all I’m going to take from you, you son of a bitch,’ Trent snarled and stepped towards the Drifter.

  Savage was ready for him and when Trent was close enough, the Drifter lashed out with his right foot and caught the advancing man flush in the chest. He followed as the man floundered backward, then hit the ramrod flush in the mouth.

  Trent staggered a moment before gathering himself, blood at the corner of his mouth. He brought his fists up and spat on the ground. ‘Now you’re talking my kind of language. C’mon you son of a bitch.’

  The ramrod stepped forward and let go an almighty swing with a huge right fist, which, had it connected, would have almost killed Savage then and there. But it was a clumsy blow and the Drifter saw it from two days away.

  He went under it and let go a right uppercut from down near his knee. The blow hammered into the bigger man’s chest, just below his heart. Air whooshed from his lungs and his face turned red as he retched. Another hard left, followed by a right, put the big man down.

  But there was no way Trent was going to stay there and he hauled himself to his feet.

  With a bellow of rage, the bigger man charged and hit Savage in the middle with a powerful shoulder. The Drifter was driven back and both men crashed through a hitchrail and flat out onto the boardwalk behind it.

  Trent dealt Savage two punishing blows. One to the face and another to the side of the head. The Drifter retaliated and chopped the heel of his hand across the snarling man's throat.

  The ramrod reeled back as he gagged from the force of it. Savage came back to his feet, shook his head, and wiped blood from his mouth.

  As he closed in on the hunched over Trent, the ramrod flung dirt into Savage’s face, temporarily blinding him. Trent crowded back in close and drove a fist into Savage’s guts. He doubled over just in time to meet a brutal uppercut that made him straighten and his head whip back.

  Savage spat blood and gathered himself as Trent came in to finish him off. But Savage was tough, and he knew how to fight.

  The next blow literally wiped the snarled grin off Trent's face when his lips were mashed back against his teeth. He stopped in his tracks and Savage hit him again, and again.

  The ramrod fell to his knees, his battered head dropping to his chest. He looked up at the Drifter and smiled at him, teeth covered with blood. ‘Frig you.’

  Savage drew his Remington and smashed it up the side of Trent’s head. The bigger man fell like a tree into the dust of the street.

  An aggressive murmur rippled through the trail hands and they started to crowd forward. They stopped when the Drifter pointed the cocked six-gun in their direction. ‘I’ve had enough of fighting. Plumb wore out, in fact. One of you takes another step, I’ll kill him.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ a cowboy in a blue shirt snapped. ‘He’d hang for murder.’

  ‘In case you haven’t learned yet, someone shot the sheriff. You’ll only get one warning. Consider this it.’

  The cowboy closed in. ‘You can’t bluff me …’

  The Remington roared, and the man fell to the ground with a red stain on his shirtfront. The six-gun shifted back to the stunned crowd, but his eyes drifted to Breen. ‘Anyone else?’

  Mavis Porter stepped forward, face pale. ‘You—you murdered him. Just shot him down like—like some dog.’

  Savage didn’t want this, and he was all out of patience. ‘Listen up, Miss Porter, and listen good. Every man jack of your crew is in on a scheme to rip your herd away from you and leave you with nothing. Killing your father was just the first step. He wouldn’t sell, and they killed him for it. Next is you. You either sell or you’ll be in a hole beside your old man. Why else do you think Trent was working so hard to get you to sell? And then when I said I would do it, he changes his mind.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  His anger still ran high. ‘I don’t give two shits whether you do or not. What I need you to believe is that I’m the only person who can get your herd through to Cheyenne. If you do, I can help you. If not, I’m no good to you and you might as well sell that herd to Breen right now for five-dollars a head. When you work it out, you’ll find me at the hotel.’

  With that, Savage pushed his way through the crowd and stormed off.

  Breen and Milt watched him disappear. Once the Drifter was out of sight, Milt asked, ‘What now?’

  ‘We kill him. Tonight.’

  Meanwhile, unnoticed to those below on the street, a curtain moved at a second-storey window as it fell back into place. There was someone else who had taken an interest in the fight between the two men.

  It took an hour, but the knock on his room door came. When Savage opened it, Mavis Porter was standing there, a look of apprehension etched across her face. He invited her in then stepped aside to allow her entry and closed the door behind her.

  Mavis stopped in the center of the room and turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s get one thing straight from the start. I don’t like what you did to that man and I won’t stand for it if you do something like that again.’

  The Drifter nodded. ‘Okay. Let me ask you something. Those men on the crew, had they worked for your father before?’

  ‘Only Trent.’

  ‘Who hired them?’

  ‘Trent did. After the last crew quit when we arrived here, Pa had to find another.’

  Savage frowned. ‘Why did they quit?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Pa said they never gave him a reason.’

  ‘Your old crew. Had they worked for your father at his ranch before?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. All the old hands, except for Brock, stayed in Texas. Pa hired them especially for the drive.’

  ‘My guess is Trent hired the new men especially for this job. And I think he’s in cahoots with Breen.’

  ‘But why? He’s a good man. I was going to marry him. Maybe if I just talk to him, he’ll see sense and …’

  ‘No. If you want him along, then I quit. They say love is blind, and up to a certain point it is, I guess. But I’m telling you now, your man isn’t who you think he is.’

  ‘I was hoping to convince you otherwise,’ Mavis said. ‘But obviously not.’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  She nodded. ‘Well, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. Thank you for your offer of help, but I trust Brock. I’ll insist he hires another crew and then we’ll leave for Cheyenne after that.’

  Savage’s face grew grim. ‘You do as you see fit.’

  Her answer was curt. ‘I will.’

  ‘Then goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  He shook his head as Mavis closed the door behind her. It was all going to end badly.

  A battered Brock Trent met with Breen in the backroom of the Charity Saloon that night to break the news to him about Mavis’ decision.

  Breen had a fat cigar jammed between his teeth as he considered what Trent was telling him.

  ‘You know that is unacceptable, Trent.’

  ‘Yes, well. It gets Savage out of the way.’

  ‘I already have a plan in place to get rid of him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Milt will be taking care of him.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘You will keep the crew and we will take the herd.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yes. I’m coming with you. My partner and I have a new business interest up there.’

  Trent frowned. ‘Why would you give this up?’

  Breen took the cigar from his mouth. ‘A town. We’re not going to Cheyen
ne as you seem to think. We’re headed to the South Platte River. With all the money we have made from our cattle venture, we are going to build a town. One where the ranchers from Texas and places in between, can drive their cattle to. We will have a rail spur that’s come in from Fort Sedgewick and yards big enough to hold thousands of cattle at any one time. It shall be called Dobson. Word has already gone out and herds will start arriving late this season.’

  ‘What about the other towns? Cheyenne?’

  ‘Cheyenne will wither on the vine, so to speak. Our town will be bigger and better. In fact, it has already started. My partner has had yards built and a rail spur shall be completed by the time we arrive. But I need this herd for the final payment. And I mean to have it.’

  Trent looked into the man’s blazing eyes and knew that he meant what he said.

  ‘Okay. Let me worry about May. You’ll have your cattle.’

  ‘I won’t have anything stand in my way, Trent. You get her to see our way, or I’ll kill her, and you too.’

  For the second time that day, a knock sounded at Savage’s door. Although his lamp was still burning, he’d been dozing on the bed. But it wasn’t the noise of knuckles on wood which roused him, it was the placement of a foot on the squeaky board out in the hall that had him reaching for his Remington.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Open the door.’

  A female.

  Savage frowned, and the bed squeaked as he climbed off it. He padded across to the door and swung it open.

  Standing in the hallway was a woman of an age somewhere akin to his own. She wore an emerald-green dress that was low cut, beneath which a tight corset forced her ample breasts upward, so the pale flesh almost billowed over the top of her revealing bodice.

  Her eyes were cornflower-blue, her flawless face framed by long, dark, curly hair. She looked him up and down and smiled seductively and asked, ‘Are you going to shoot me or invite me in?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Elizabeth,’ she said, pushing past him. ‘You can call me Lizzy.’

  She stopped after crossing the threshold and turned to face Savage.

  ‘Come on in,’ he said.