Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (28 page)

He told himself she wanted him, and there had been enough of foolishness. "Come on!"
h
e said roughly. "I want to talk to you!"

"But the lady does not want to talk to you!" Kilkenny said. Frank Mailer turned hi
s
big head sharp around. For the first time he saw Kilkenny. "Get lost!" he snarled.

What he was going to say never came out. He was seeing Kilkenny, really seeing hi
m
for the first time, looking into those hard green eyes, level and dangerous now
,
into the bronzed face of a man that he instinctively recognized as being somethin
g
different, somebody new and perhaps dangerous. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"The man who tells you the lady does not wish to talk to you," Kilkenny said. H
e
turned, "Miss Howard, do you wish to go to the bar?"

She turned instantly and started to go off with him.

Mailer found himself left in the middle of the floor alone, and he had made his brag
s
about this woman and himself. They had an understanding, he had hinted. In fact
,
he had convinced himself it was true. Somebody snickered, and Frank Mailer blew up.

Lunging, he grabbed at Nita's shoulder, but knowing his man, Kilkenny had been watching.

He moved swiftly and thrust the hand aside. Instantly, Frank Mailer struck. He struc
k
with his ponderous right fist that had already lifted with the violence of his gra
b
at the girl, but Kilkenny rolled his head and smashed a left and right to the body.

Lance Kilkenny knew the manner of man he was facing and knew that if ever he ha
d
been in for a battle, he was in for one now. He struck fast and he struck hard, an
d
the blows smashed Mailer back on his heels. Before he could catch his balance, Kilkenn
y
hooked high and hard with a left and the blow knocked Mailer crashing to the floor.

He hit hard, in a sitting position, knocked back all of four feet, and as he hi
t
he knew he had been struck with such force that all the other blows he had take
n
seemed mere child's play. He hit the floor drunk and raging, but he came up wit
h
a lunge, and cold sober.

Skilled in the rough-and-tumble style of barroom brawling, Lance Kilkenny knew wha
t
he was facing, yet he had more than that sort of skill on which to draw, for lon
g
ago in New Orleans he had studied the art of boxing and become quite proficient a
t
it.

Mailer came up with a lunge and charged, swinging. Kilkenny nailed him on the mout
h
with a straight, hard left and then smashed another right to the ribs before th
e
sheer weight of the rush smashed Kilkenny back against the bar. Mailer blazed wit
h
fury and confidence. Now he had him! Against the bar!

One hand grasped Kilkenny's throat, pushing his hea
d
back. Then he jerked up his knee for Kilkenny's groin. Yet Kilkenny's own knee ha
d
lifted an instant quicker and blocked the rise of Mailer's drive. At the same tim
e
Kilkenny struck Mailer's left hand away from his throat by knocking it to the right
,
and he lunged forward, smashing the top of his skull into Mailer's nose and mouth.

Blood streaming from his smashed lips, Mailer staggered, pawing at the air, and Kilkenn
y
let him go, standing there, breathing easily, and waiting. The crowd had been shove
d
back, he saw, and Jaime Brigo was standing beside Nita with drawn gun. Over the ba
r
behind him he heard Brockman speak, Brockman whom he had once fought in just suc
h
a battle, before they were friends. "Don't worry, boss. Nobody butts in!"

Mailer recovered his balance and stared at Kilkenny with malignant eyes. With th
e
back of his hand he mopped the blood from his lips, staring at Kilkenny. "Now," h
e
said, his voice low and dangerous, "I'm goin' to kill you!"

He moved in, his big fists ready, taking his time now. This man was not going t
o
be smashed down in a couple of driving rushes. Mailer was not worried. He had alway
s
won, no man could stand against him.

Mailer moved in, feinted, then lunged. Kilkenny did not step away or retreat; h
e
stepped inside and his legs were spread and he smashed wicked, hooking drives t
o
the ribs that jolted and jarred Mailer. Frank shortened his own punches and caugh
t
Kilkenny with a mighty right that knocked him to the floor. With a roaring yell
,
Mailer sprang into the air and leaped to come down on Kilkenny's body, but Lanc
e
rolled over and sprang to his feet like a cat, and Mailer, missing, lunged past hi
m
against the bar. Kilkenny smashed a wicked right to the kidney, and as Mailer turne
d
and grabbed for him he swung the man over his back with a flying mare.

Mailer came up fast and rushed and they stood toe-to-toe, swapping punches. Shiftin
g
his feet, Kilkenny was caught with a foot off the floor and he went back into th
e
bar. The big man lunged and grabbed Kilkenny around the waist with both mighty arms
.

Growling with fury, he tightened that grasp, but
Kil
kenny, caught with his hand
s
down and inside that mighty
hug, jerked both thumbs into the lower abdomen
,
low and
hard. Mailer jerked back from the thumbs, and instantly'" Kilkenny turne
d
his hips inside the hollow left between their bodies, and grasping Mailer's righ
t
sleeve with his left hand, he slid his right arm around his waist, and jerk
ing
down with the left, he swung Mailer across his hip and crashing to the floor wit
h
a thud that shook the building
. I
He sprang back then, getting distance between them
,
and mopping the blood and sweat from his eyes.
Frank Mailer got to his feet, throttling rage in his throat mingled with something else, something he had never felt before, the '

He lunged, and Kilkenny stepped into him. The gunfighter was utterly savage now.

Watching, Cain Brockman cringed with the memory, for Kilkenny's fists cracked lik
e
ball bats on Mailer's face. It was a driving, utterly furious attack, that smashe
d
Mailer back with solid blow after solid blow. Mailer lunged, grabbed him again, an
d
jerked him clear off the floor, hurling him down. Kilkenny hit hard, and one of hi
s
guns went scooting, but Nita stooped quickly and caught it up.

Kilkenny was on his back and Mailer lunged for him. Kilkenny swung a boot up an
d
caught the oncoming man in the solar plexus and the drive of the rush, and the movin
g
boot carried the big man over like a catapult and he hit the floor beyond, his fal
l
broken by the crowd that could not move fast enough.

Kilkenny rolled over and was on his feet. Punch-drunk, Mailer came up, and Kilkenn
y
let go with both hands. Mailer sagged and his knees buckled and Kilkenny threw a
n
uppercut with all the power that was in him. It lifted the big man from his fee
t
and turned him over, and Frank Mailer hit the floor on his shoulder blades, out cold!

Kilkenny drew back, feeling for his gun. The right gun was still with him and h
e
faced the crowd, his eyes desperate, blazing with cold fire. He swept the crowd unti
l
he found Geslin and Starr. Their eyes met and he stood there, his chest heaving wit
h
the struggle for air, sweat streaming down his face, his shirt in rags about him.

He stood there, and suddenly Nita spoke. "In your holster!" and he felt his left-han
d
gun slide home. For a minute he held their eyes, steady, waiting.

Nobody moved, nobody spoke. He straightened then<
a
nd glanced down at the beaten and bloody man who sprawled on the floor. "Tell hi
m
all the roads are open, but they run one way ... out of town!"

It was a silent, grim bunch of men who took the trail that night back to Blue Hill
,
but while they rode slowly, and Frank Mailer slumped heavily in his saddle, his grea
t
head thudding with a dull ache, there was a man ahead of them who rode very swiftl
y
indeed. It was Kansas, and he was riding to be the first to report to Dunning. Thi
s
was something Poke would want to know, something he needed to know.

After Kansas was gone, Poke Dunning paced the floor alone. Frank Mailer whipped!

It was unbelievable! Had the earth opened and gulped down the Blue Hill, the ranc
h
and its neighboring peak, he could have been n
o
more shocked. That Mailer might be beaten with a gun, he knew. But with fists? I
n
a rough-and-tumble fight? It was impossible!

But it had happened. Mailer was beaten. Despite his satisfaction, Dunning was worried.

He turned in late, but he did not sleep, lying there and staring up into the darkness.

He had worked a long time for this ranch, and he meant to keep it. He would kil
l
anybody who endangered his possession of the ranch. Even Lona. Even Lona, the gir
l
he had reared.

Kilkenny awoke early the following morning. He had returned at once to his hideout
,
but now he was awake. His hands were swollen and battered, and in the mirror he carried
,
he could see one eye was swollen almost closed. There was a welt on the corner o
f
his mouth and a blue swelling on his cheekbone. He heated water on the fire and soake
d
his hands; carefully he cleaned the cuts and scrapes on his head and arms.

He was still tending to his injuries at noon when Gates appeared. He swung down an
d
crossed to Kilkenny with jingling spurs. "Man! Did you beat that big lug! He wa
s
still punch-drunk when they left this morning!"

Kilkenny looked up sharply. He didn't feel too good himself. "They left? How man
y
of them?"

"Mailer himself and four hands". Geslin, Starr, Socorro, and a mean-faced hombr
e
with a scar that I've not seen around much."

"Thin? Stoop-shouldered with yellowish eyeballs?"

"That's him, who is he?"

"That's Ethridge, one of the Stockton gang." Kilkenny got to his feet, drying hi
s
hands. "That gives me a hunch
,
now. I think I know who Mailer is. If I'm not wrong, he's one of a bunch that operate
d
out of Durango. Used a flock of names. One of them was Lacey or something like that."

"Yeah, I've heard of him."

Kilkenny studied his swollen hands. "Look," he said presently, "we're going to win
d
this up. Lona should come to see me today, and I've got to go see Poke Dunning. H
e
left word with Kansas down at Salt Creek. He's got a proposition for me."

"Watch yourself."

"I will. But I want to see him. The lid's set to blow off anyway, and we might a
s
well start the ball rolling while Mailer is gone."

"He said he'd be gone two days.
"

"All right, that gives us some time. I'll talk to Lona, then I'll ride down and see Dunning. You be ready, and you talk to Flynn and that cook."

After Gates was gone, he thought it over again. Kilkenny had taken care to lear
n
something about the extent of the Blue Hill holdings, and the ranch was vast in are
a
and in stock. There were thousands of head of cattle, and in the breaks to the wes
t
there were sheep. It was a big stake, truly.

How had Mailer worked into the deal? He was sure that Poke had started it alone ...
i
n fact, in his own mind
he was sure that Dunning had killed Markham. But somehow Mailer had come into it.