Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (20 page)

Beyond him rocks fell, then ceased to fall, and dust rose slowly, in a great cloud.

When it stopped rising, there was a wall across the canyon, low in the middle, bu
t
high enough. The mountain stream, trickling down its normal bed, found the way blocked
,
it turned right, searching for a way under or through, but discovered no way to accommodat
e
the swelling strength of water behind it. Spreading left, it found no way out, an
d
so began to back up in a slowly widening and deepening pool.

It was dark when the lapping water reached the nest of rocks where the fallen ma
n
lay. Cold fingers encircled his outflung hand, crept up his arm with exploring tentacles
,
and flattened out, creeping along his side and toward his face.

A coyote, prowling nearby and sniffing blood, paused to stare at the man's dark body.

Curious, he came near, stepping daintily to keep his feet from the water. When th
e
man moved, drawing back a hand, the coyote drew back and trotted swiftly off.

It was the cold touch of the water that roused Joe Billy Rock. Water against hi
s
face and water along his ribs. For an instant he lay still, and then the meanin
g
of the creeping coldness came to him with a rush, and he jerked back and lunged t
o
his feet. The startled reaction that brought him up also brought a rush of pain t
o
his head. His fingers lifted and explored. The bullet had caused chips of rock t
o
pepper his face and arm, but there was at least one other cut caused by his fall
,
and his whole body was stiff and numb.

He staggered, splashing, toward higher ground. Ther
e
he looked back, and saw that almost an acre of water had already gathered behin
d
his crude dam. A little work would make it more effective.

Memory returned, and he realized he had been shot at. Shot at the instant befor
e
the explosion by someone perched on the very rocks he was blasting! Whoever tha
t
unknown marksman had been, he was dead now. Survival, where he had been perched
,
was out of the question.

A half hour of staggering and falling brought him to his horse, which looked up quickl
y
at the sight of him, tossing his head at the smell of blood. It was no more tha
n
fifteen minutes of riding to the house. All was dark and still.

Carefully, Rock considered this. Had Leosa been at home, she would certainly hav
e
a light. Moreover, she would be awaiting supper. The time he roughly estimated t
o
be nine or past, but she knew he was working and would have heard the explosion.

Had she gone out looking for him? Stealthily, he rode nearer, then dismounted. Te
n
minutes of careful searching proved the house, barn, and the whole ranch was empty.

The stove was cold, no dishes on the table. No evidence that a meal had been prepared.

Squinting against the stinging pain in his cheek and forehead, h
e
tried to assemble his thoughts. Somehow they must have gotten her out of here; believin
g
him dead. Van Rorick had acted to seize the ranch.

The gray he was riding had a liking for the trail and he let him take it. He ra
n
like a scared rabbit until the town lights were plain, then Rock slowed him to
a
canter and then a walk. He swung down from the horse near the livery barn, loosene
d
his guns in his holsters, and started up the street. Voices made him draw back int
o
the shadows. Between two buildings he waited while two men drew near.

"Hear about that gal out to the old Barron place? One said she was Barren's niece?

She skipped out with tha
t
tough-lookin' hand who's been hanging around there. Somebody said they was seen o
n
the road to Cimarron, ridin' out of the country."

"Good riddance, I'd say. I hear she carried on plenty!"

Rock stared after them. Rorick was shrewd. His story was already going the rounds
,
and it was a plausible yarn. But what had happened to Leosa?

He started up the street, moving more cautiously now. First, he must see Whiting.

The lawyer would know what to do, and would start a search here. Then he would hea
d
for Rorick's own ranch.

It was possible that Rorick had killed the girl at once, or that Lute Wilson had.

But the man on the rock before the explosion was probably Lute. Rorick was too smar
t
to take such chances himself. It had been only bad luck that got Lute, however, fo
r
the man could not have known of the loaded holes and spitted fuses.

Rock climbed the stairs, then pushed open the lawyer's door. Ranee Whiting's offic
e
was dark and still. Fumbling in his pocket, he got a match and lighted it. Whitin
g
was sprawled on the floor, his shirt bloody, his face white as death.

Dropping to his knees, Rock found the lawyer had been stabbed twice, once in th
e
back, once in the chest. The room was in wild disorder.

Working swiftly, Rock got water and bathed the wounds, then bandaged them. The lawye
r
was still alive, and the first thing was to get the bleeding stopped. When he ha
d
him resting easily on the bed, Rock turned to the door. He was opening it when h
e
heard the lawyer's hoarse cry.

Instantly, he turned back. "The papers," Whiting whispered, "they . . ." His voic
e
trailed feebly away. He had fainted.

Leaving the light burning, Rock ran down the outside stairs to the street, glance
d
once at the saloon, and the
n
ran up the street to old Doc Spencer's home. In a few minutes he had the old ma
n
started toward Whiting's office.

Joe Rock stared at the Longhorn. This was his town. He owned the whole townsite b
y
inheritance, and he intended to keep it, especially that part usurped by Van Rorick.

He walked swiftly to the saloon and, from a position near the window, studied th
e
interior. Rorick was there but he didn't appear happy. The same slight-figured ma
n
who had been with him before was with him now. Lute was not, which was all the assuranc
e
Rock needed that the man was dead. It was undoubtedly his failure to return tha
t
worried Rorick.

Circling swiftly, he came to the rear door, but reached it only to hear the fron
t
door open and close. When he looked in, Rorick and his friend had gone.

From the street came a sound of horses' hooves and then two men rode down the stree
t
and out of town. Hurrying to his own horse, Rock swung into the saddle and, kickin
g
his feet into the stirrups, started in pursuit.

Rorick set a fast pace. Rock let his mind leap ahead, trying to get the drift o
f
the other man's thinking. Wilson had not returned, and that could mean he had failed.

It could also mean Wilson and Rock had killed each other. Rorick swung toward th
e
Barren homestead, and drew up, staring toward it. Rock was no more than a hundre
d
yards away and could see the men outlined against the sky.

Seeing the house dark, they evidently decided that Rock had not returned there. The
y
pushed on. When they reached the now dry creek, Rock heard a startled exclamation
,
and then the riders turned toward the dam. He saw them ride up to it and look around
,
heard a low-voiced conversation of which he could guess the sense but understan
d
no word. Then they mounted and rode on.

The course they followed now led deeper and deepe
r
into the rocky canyons to the north. This was lonely country, and was not, Rock wa
s
aware, toward Rorick's ranch. Suddenly the two men rode down into a hollow and disappeared.

Rock drew up, straining his eyes into the night, holding his breath for any sound.

There was none. He walked his horse a short way, and was about to go farther whe
n
his eyes caught a vague suggestion of light. Turning, he worked his way through som
e
willows and saw among some boulders the darker blotch of a cabin from which gleame
d
two lighted windows!

Swinging down, Rock stole toward the house, ghostlike in the night. She had to b
e
here! His heart pounding, his mouth dry, all the fear he had been feeling all evenin
g
now tight and cold within him. What if something had happened to her? What if sh
e
had been killed?

A door opened and a man stepped out. He was a stranger. "I'll put the horses up,"
h
e said over his shoulder, "an' grub's ready."

The fellow carried a lantern and he walked toward a rock barn that stood close unde
r
a cliff. Joe Rock followed, and moved in behind him. The man placed the lantern o
n
the ground and reached for a bridle.

In that instant Rock's forearm went across his throat and jammed a knee into th
e
startled man's back, jerking him off balance. Then Rock turned him loose, but befor
e
he could get breath to yell a warning, Rock slugged him in the wind. He doubled up
,
and Rock struck him again. Then he grabbed him by the throat and shoved him agains
t
the wall. He was trembling with fury. "Is that girl in there? Is she safe?"

The fellow gasped and choked. "She ... she's all right! Don't kill me! For Lord'
s
sake, man!"

"Who's in there?" Rock demanded in a hoarse whisper.

"Just them two. Seal 'n Milt Blue."

Joe Rock froze. Then he said carefully, "Who did you say? Art Beal and Milt Blue?

The outlaws?"

"They ain't sky pilots," the man said, growling.

"You mean Beal is the hombre known in town as Rorick?"

"Yeah, maybe." The man was talking freely now. "He said there'd be no trouble. I
a
in't no outlaw! I just needed a few dollars."

Roughly, Rock bound and gagged the man. He was aware now of his real danger, an
d
of Leosa's danger. If Rorick was Art Beal, that accounted for some of the six year
s
he had been away from Joe Billy, and also let Rock know just what sort of a man Roric
k
was. Yet for all of that, the real risk lay in facing Milt Blue, the gunslinger.

He left the man bound on the dirt floor of the barn, loosened his guns in their holsters
,
and started for the house. He carried the lantern with him, wanting them to believ
e
he was their helper. As he neared the door he shifted the lantern to his left han
d
and drew his gun. Then he opened the door and stepped in.

Only Leosa was looking toward the door, and her eyes widened. Her expression mus
t
have warned them, for as one man they turned, and Blue went for his gun. Instantly
,
as though it had been rehearsed, Leosa threw her body against Rorick, knocking hi
m
off balance.

Rock had his feet spread and his gun ready. "Drop it, Blue!" he yelled.

The gunman grabbed iron. His gun leaped free with amazing speed, and as the muzzl
e
cleared the holster Rock shot him in the stomach. He was slammed back by the forc
e
of the bullet, but fought doggedly and bitterly to get his gun up. Despite the fierc
e
struggle against the wall, where Leosa fought desperately with Rorick, Rock too
k
his time. He fired again. Blue's eyes glazed and the gun slid from his hand.

Rock turned and instantly Leosa let go and stepped back. Van Rorick stared acros
s
the room. "You think you've won!" he cried. "Well, you haven't! I got the papers!