the matter? Somebody sick?”
Ace had decided on his trip over that there would be no point in reasoning with Stuart. Now he simply stared at him and said coldly, “Get out of the bed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You heard me, Stuart. Get out of the bed. You’re going home.”
Anger flared in Stuart Winslow’s eyes. He was a man who hated to be controlled, and he glared at Devainy’s tall, lanky form. “Get out of here, Ace! I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You can go easy or you can go hard,” Ace said. “Make up your mind. But you’re going one way or the other.”
Anger flashed in Stuart’s dark eyes then. He threw back the covers and stood up, swaying for a moment, for he had a pounding headache. Still he advanced toward Ace and put his hand out and shoved against his chest. “Get out of here before I hurt you!”
Ace knew full well that he was no match for Stuart in a fight. He was tough enough himself, but Stuart’s blows were quick as a striking snake, and he had the muscle to put a man down with one blow.
“It’s time for you to go home to your wife.”
Guilt washed across Stuart’s face, and he shot a quick glance at Cora, who was standing back against the wall, her eyes wide. Perhaps because of that guilt Stuart was spurred to action. He yelled, “Get out of here, Ace! I’ll take care of my own family!” He reached forward and gave another shove, which drove Devainy backward, but his reaction times were slower than he had known. Quickly Ace pulled the blackjack out of his pocket before Stuart started swinging with those quick fists of his.
Stuart yelled, “Hey,” and raised his hand, but it was too late. The leather-covered weight struck him in the temple, and he knew nothing else.
“Stuart!” Cora screamed and came over to kneel beside him.
“If you want to help,” Ace said, “help me get his clothes on him.”
Cora began to curse him, but Ace paid her no more attention. As he struggled to get Stuart’s clothes on, he turned to Cora and said, “If you were a man,” he said, “I’d punch you out, Cora. Stuart’s got a good wife.”
“That’s his business and mine. Not yours.”
“Well, I’m making it mine today. Stay away from him. I thought you were going to marry Carter.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”
Knowing that there was no point arguing with the woman, Ace Devainy simply reached over and pulled Stuart’s legs fully off the bed, then he straightened him up to a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, he stooped, pulled the limp body forward, lifted it over his shoulder, and rose suddenly. He turned toward the door with Stuart’s limp body dangling and left the house only vaguely aware of Cora’s voice screaming at him from what seemed to be a far distance. When he reached the wagon, he simply dumped the limp form of Winslow inside and was not overly concerned when he heard his friend’s head thump the bottom of the wagon. Climbing into the seat, he spoke to the horses, “Get up, Babe! Get up,Hector!” and the two wheeled around, careened sharply, and then moved along practically at a gallop.
As soon as he had cleared the outskirts of Mapleton and was heading back toward Lewisville, Ace slowed the horses down to a brisk trot and held himself against the jolting of the frozen ruts. He was disturbed at what he had done, for he and Stuart had been friends since boyhood. He knew that this could end all that, and a deep regret washed through him. But he shrugged his shoulders and shook himself, saying, “A man’s got to grow up sometime, but it looks like Stuart won’t ever make it.”
****
The sun was three-quarters of the way across the sky when Devainy glanced back to see Winslow struggling to gain his feet. He had reached as far as his hands and knees and was shaking his head, which had a considerable-sized knot on it. “Whoa, up there, boys! Whoa, up there!” Ace commanded. When the wagon came to a halt, he turned and said,
Ace had decided on his trip over that there would be no point in reasoning with Stuart. Now he simply stared at him and said coldly, “Get out of the bed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You heard me, Stuart. Get out of the bed. You’re going home.”
Anger flared in Stuart Winslow’s eyes. He was a man who hated to be controlled, and he glared at Devainy’s tall, lanky form. “Get out of here, Ace! I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You can go easy or you can go hard,” Ace said. “Make up your mind. But you’re going one way or the other.”
Anger flashed in Stuart’s dark eyes then. He threw back the covers and stood up, swaying for a moment, for he had a pounding headache. Still he advanced toward Ace and put his hand out and shoved against his chest. “Get out of here before I hurt you!”
Ace knew full well that he was no match for Stuart in a fight. He was tough enough himself, but Stuart’s blows were quick as a striking snake, and he had the muscle to put a man down with one blow.
“It’s time for you to go home to your wife.”
Guilt washed across Stuart’s face, and he shot a quick glance at Cora, who was standing back against the wall, her eyes wide. Perhaps because of that guilt Stuart was spurred to action. He yelled, “Get out of here, Ace! I’ll take care of my own family!” He reached forward and gave another shove, which drove Devainy backward, but his reaction times were slower than he had known. Quickly Ace pulled the blackjack out of his pocket before Stuart started swinging with those quick fists of his.
Stuart yelled, “Hey,” and raised his hand, but it was too late. The leather-covered weight struck him in the temple, and he knew nothing else.
“Stuart!” Cora screamed and came over to kneel beside him.
“If you want to help,” Ace said, “help me get his clothes on him.”
Cora began to curse him, but Ace paid her no more attention. As he struggled to get Stuart’s clothes on, he turned to Cora and said, “If you were a man,” he said, “I’d punch you out, Cora. Stuart’s got a good wife.”
“That’s his business and mine. Not yours.”
“Well, I’m making it mine today. Stay away from him. I thought you were going to marry Carter.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”
Knowing that there was no point arguing with the woman, Ace Devainy simply reached over and pulled Stuart’s legs fully off the bed, then he straightened him up to a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, he stooped, pulled the limp body forward, lifted it over his shoulder, and rose suddenly. He turned toward the door with Stuart’s limp body dangling and left the house only vaguely aware of Cora’s voice screaming at him from what seemed to be a far distance. When he reached the wagon, he simply dumped the limp form of Winslow inside and was not overly concerned when he heard his friend’s head thump the bottom of the wagon. Climbing into the seat, he spoke to the horses, “Get up, Babe! Get up,Hector!” and the two wheeled around, careened sharply, and then moved along practically at a gallop.
As soon as he had cleared the outskirts of Mapleton and was heading back toward Lewisville, Ace slowed the horses down to a brisk trot and held himself against the jolting of the frozen ruts. He was disturbed at what he had done, for he and Stuart had been friends since boyhood. He knew that this could end all that, and a deep regret washed through him. But he shrugged his shoulders and shook himself, saying, “A man’s got to grow up sometime, but it looks like Stuart won’t ever make it.”
****
The sun was three-quarters of the way across the sky when Devainy glanced back to see Winslow struggling to gain his feet. He had reached as far as his hands and knees and was shaking his head, which had a considerable-sized knot on it. “Whoa, up there, boys! Whoa, up there!” Ace commanded. When the wagon came to a halt, he turned and said,
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