The Loner: Trail Of Blood (23 page)

“Elam wanted her to marry him … and he’s never been a man who’s willing to take no for an answer.”

The Kid’s mouth tightened as he looked at Tom Kellogg. “Go on.”

“There’s not much else to tell,” the minister said with a shrug. “Theresa refused his proposal, of course. Her husband and children had only been dead for about a month.”

“And he asked her to
marry
him?” Arturo said. “How uncivilized.”

“It’s more like arrogance on Elam’s part, I think. He’s just so used to getting what he wants, he can’t accept it when somebody says no to him. But I guess he saw that he’d overplayed his hand with Theresa, because he backed off for a while. Nearly a year, in fact. But then he started pressing her again to marry him. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered how long he waited. She was never going to marry a man like him.”

“But he hasn’t given up,” The Kid guessed.

Kellogg shook his head. “No. He’s asked her several more times. She always says no. But lately …
things have started to happen. Some of the older girls who live with her, the ones who are fifteen and sixteen, have been approached in town by Elam’s men. Crudely approached,” Kellogg added with a note of angry disapproval in his voice. “And one of the young men was beaten up. He says he didn’t see who grabbed him, but I’m sure it was some of Elam’s hired toughs. Then Elam cut off Theresa’s credit at the store. As you can imagine, with more than a dozen children in the house, she needs plenty of food and other supplies. Money is tight at the moment. The members of the church help out as much as they can, but having Elam and his hired guns around here is starting to strangle the town.”

It was a long speech, and Kellogg looked and sounded weary when he finished it.

The Kid nodded slowly as he took in what the minister had told him. “I suppose all these problems would go away if Mrs. Shanley agreed to marry Elam.”

“He’s never come right out and said so, as far as I know, but that’s certainly the feeling Theresa got.”

“That’s a real shame, all right. Is there only the one hotel in town?”

The abrupt change of subject seemed to take Kellogg by surprise. “That’s right. Just the Elam Hotel.”

“I don’t feel like putting any more money in the varmint’s pockets. Are you up to camping out again tonight, Arturo?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in any hostelry owned by that man, either.”

“You’re moving on, then?” Kellogg asked.

“I’ve still got those children to find,” The Kid said. “If they’re not here, that means Pamela left them somewhere else.”

“It’s just that I thought … I mean, I hoped …” Kellogg stopped and shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter what I thought. Of course you want to keep looking for your children. I understand.”

The Kid put out his hand. “I appreciate all your help.”

“Of course.” Kellogg shook hands with The Kid in front of the church. “God bless you, Mr. Morgan.”

The Kid untied his horse from behind the buckboard as Arturo climbed aboard. “The people who live here have themselves quite a predicament,” Arturo commented.

“Yes, they do,” The Kid agreed, as he swung up into the saddle.

“It’s a shame there’s no one around here who might be able to help them.” Arturo turned the wagon down the street.

“Who do you think could do that?” The Kid asked as he rode next to the wagon. “Elam’s got probably a dozen hired guns at his disposal, maybe even more if the preacher’s right about those outlaws who have been plaguing these parts. One or two men wouldn’t stand much of a chance against a gang like that, would they?”

“Perhaps not. But if the townspeople could be rallied to take action themselves, it might be different. What they need is someone to lead them.”

The Kid looked narrowly at Arturo. “What are you trying to get us into?”

“Nothing. I was indulging in pure speculation, nothing more. After all, we have a task of our own to complete.”

“That’s right. A very important task.” They had reached the edge of town. The Kid paused and looked back down the street. His eyes lingered on all the business that bore Court Elam’s name. He studied the mostly empty boardwalks. He sensed the air of fear that gripped the town.

“Maybe somebody ought to do something,” he said slowly. “And I’ve got an idea what it could be. First, though, let’s go find a place to camp for the night.”

He pretended not to see the look of satisfaction in Arturo’s eyes.

They followed the creek that ran past the north end of the settlement for about a mile west of Powderhorn, then made camp in a grove of cottonwoods on the bank. The Kid didn’t expect any trouble, but slept lightly anyway. It was a habit with him, the sort of habit that helped him stay alive.

The next morning, he and Arturo returned to town and went straight to the general store. As they walked in, The Kid saw the few customers casting suspicious glances in his direction. Maybe they took him for a new member of Elam’s guncrew, as Tom Kellogg had at first the day before.

A balding, middle-aged man in a white apron was behind the counter at the rear of the store.
“Something I can do for you, mister?” he asked as The Kid came up to him.

“I understand that Mrs. Theresa Shanley owes a bill here.”

The clerk frowned. “Maybe she does, but I reckon that’s between her and Mr. Elam.”

“Not anymore. Tell me how much she owes.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” The clerk’s frown had turned into a look of nervousness. Clearly, he didn’t want to do anything that might get him on Elam’s bad side.

“Then maybe you can tell me if the amount is more than a hundred dollars.”

The clerk didn’t want to admit even that much, but after a moment of enduring The Kid’s flinty stare, he shrugged. “Yeah, she owes more than that.”

“More than two hundred?”

Now that he had answered one question, he couldn’t very well refuse to answer another. “No, it ain’t that high yet.”

The Kid nodded and said, “All right. Thank you.” He took ten double eagles from his pocket and placed them on the counter in two stacks of five. “There’s two hundred dollars. I want you to apply that to Mrs. Shanley’s account. Any that’s left over, you can carry on the books as credit.”

He spoke loudly and clearly enough that the other customers in the store couldn’t help but overhear him. He didn’t want there to be any questions later on about what was happening.

“But … but, mister,” the clerk said. “You can’t pay off somebody else’s account.”

“Why not? There’s no law against it. In fact”—The Kid dug into his pocket again and added another stack of five double eagles to the gold pieces already on the counter—“put another hundred dollars of credit on the books for her as well. And I want a receipt for all of it.”

The clerk looked a little like he wanted to cry. The Kid was sorry to be putting the man in a bad position, but the sooner the word started getting around town that things were about to change in Powderhorn, the better.

“Go ahead,” The Kid prodded. “I’ll take that receipt now.”

The clerk sighed and pulled a pad of paper to him—one he probably used to jot down orders that people gave him. Picking up a stub of pencil he scrawled a receipt for the three hundred dollars.

The Kid watched what the man was writing. “Be sure to write on there that it goes on the account of Mrs. Theresa Shanley,” he reminded the clerk.

The man nodded as he added that information. He tore off the paper, slid it across the counter to The Kid, and raked the gold pieces into a drawer. “Are you satisfied now, mister?”

The Kid smiled as he tucked the receipt in his shirt pocket. “Not really, but I’m getting started in that direction.”

He left the store with Arturo, who asked once they were outside, “Where are we going now?”

The Kid tapped his pocket. “I want to give this receipt to Mrs. Shanley.”

“May I ask why you didn’t just give her sufficient
funds to settle her account at the store? It seems like that would have been simpler.”

“You saw her. She’s a woman with a lot of pride. She’d have turned it down. She probably would have wanted to spit in my face while she was doing it … but I figure she’s too much of a lady for that.”

“Court Elam won’t be happy when he finds out he no longer has that particular lever to use against Mrs. Shanley.”

“Court Elam’s happiness is just about the last thing in the world I’m worried about.”

As The Kid and Arturo turned onto Fifth Street and started toward the big house that served as the orphanage, The Kid spotted a buggy and a couple of saddle horses tied up in front of the house. He frowned slightly as his pace picked up. He thought he recognized that buggy.

Arturo saw the vehicle, too. “Mrs. Shanley appears to have visitors. That looks like—”

“Yeah,” The Kid snapped. “Elam’s buggy.”

They reached the gate in the picket fence. The Kid opened it and strode up the walk. He saw three men standing on the porch. The well dressed one was Court Elam, who was talking through the screen door to Theresa Shanley. The other two were Jim Mundy and another of Elam’s gun-wolves. They saw The Kid coming toward them and tensed. Their hands moved slightly closer to the revolvers holstered on their hips.

“Boss,” Mundy said in a low, urgent voice.

Elam swung around with an irritated look on his narrow face. “What is it?” Then he stiffened,
too, as he caught sight of The Kid and Arturo. “You two again.” He didn’t sound pleased.

“That’s right.” The Kid came to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps.

“What are you doing here?”

The Kid nodded toward the woman who stood behind the screen door with a worried look on her face. “We have business with Mrs. Shanley.”

“I don’t think so,” Elam said. “I don’t know what you’re doing in Powderhorn, but I’m certain you don’t have any business here, period.”

“I don’t see how you can be so sure about that.”

Elam smiled coldly. “It’s my town. If you don’t have business with me, you might as well move along.”

“I’ve already done all the business with you that I’m going to.” The Kid slipped the piece of paper from his pocket and spoke past Elam. “Mrs. Shan-ley, your account at the general store is paid up, and you have a line of credit there again. Here’s the receipt to prove it.”

Theresa looked surprised. So did Elam, but his face darkened with fury. “What in blazes are you talking about?” he demanded.

The Kid started up the steps. “See for yourself.”

Before he could reach Elam, Jim Mundy got in his way. “Back off, mister,” the gunman warned. “I buried some friends yesterday, and you’re to blame for some of ’em being dead.”

“No, they’re to blame for trying to break a murderer out of jail,” The Kid shot back. “Get out of my way, Mundy.”

“You know who I am?”

“That’s right.”

Mundy bared his teeth in a savage grin. “Then you must know I’m a dangerous man with a gun.”

“Gentlemen!” Theresa’s voice was sharp as she spoke through the screen. “Please. I can’t have any gunplay on my front porch. For God’s sake, there are children in this house!”

“Mrs. Shanley is right,” Elam said. “Your gun stays in its holster, Jim, you understand that?”

Mundy understood it, but he didn’t like it. Lifting his lip in a snarl, he said, “Sure, boss.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t teach these two a lesson,” Elam added.

“That’s more like it,” Mundy said.

Instantly, he shot a big fist straight at The Kid’s head.

Expecting something like that, The Kid was ready when Mundy struck. He pulled his head aside so the gunman’s fist whipped past his ear. Reaching up to grab Mundy’s arm it was easy to twist around, pull hard on the man’s arm, and send him sailing off the porch. Arturo leaped out of the way as Mundy crashed on the ground, hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs and make him gasp for breath.

“Stop that!” Theresa cried. “Stop that brawling!”

It was too late. The second gunman tackled The Kid, and the two of them tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom.

Elam’s man was on top. He hooked a vicious punch into The Kid’s side, then tried to dig his knee into The Kid’s groin. Writhing out of the way The Kid hammered a fist against the side of the man’s head, knocking the gunman away from him. The Kid rolled and came up on one knee.

Mundy had gotten to his feet and swung a kick
at The Kid’s head. At that same moment Arturo leaped on Mundy’s back and threw him off balance. With a startled yell, Mundy went down again.

Elam stood at the edge of the porch watching the battle. His face was pinched and had gone white with anger, but he didn’t make any effort to get in the middle of the ruckus.

The Kid made it to his feet as the second gunman scrambled upright and waded in, swinging wild punches. The Kid blocked a couple, but one of the flailing haymakers got through and landed cleanly on his jaw. It was a lucky punch, but it was enough to knock The Kid to the ground again. The gunman rushed in, clearly intending to stomp him half to death.

The Kid caught hold of the booted foot that descended toward his face and gave it a twist and a heave. The gunman toppled with an angry curse. The Kid rolled over, pushed himself to his hands and knees, and looked around.

A few feet away, Jim Mundy had climbed back to his feet. His left hand was bunched in Arturo’s shirtfront, holding him up. His other hand was clenched in a fist and drawn back, poised to smash into Arturo’s face.

The Kid dived at Mundy from behind before he could hit Arturo, catching him around the knees and knocking his legs out from under him. The man lost his grip on Arturo’s shirt, and Arturo scrambled backward, out of the way.

Mundy kicked out at The Kid, catching the younger man in the chest. For a second, The Kid
felt paralyzed and unable to breathe. He wasn’t even sure if his heart was still beating.

Rubbing his chest he took a deep breath. Relieved that he wasn’t seriously hurt he blocked a looping punch that Mundy threw and landed a sharp jab of his own to Mundy’s nose, rocking his head back.