sprawled out of the trough into the dust, then he got heavily to his feet, and while the crowd behind him bellowed and cheered he turned and slunk down an alleyway between two buildings. Through his mind there beat the brutal realization that no one was afraid of him now, they would never be afraid of him again.
Clive Massey, standing in the door of the IXL, cursed under his breath, grinding his teeth in impotent fury. Portugee Phillips moved up beside him, grinning slyly. "Ever see the like of that, Massey? That tooknerve ! I'd ride through fifty blizzards afore I'd walk up to a gun fighter like that! Walked right up to him, took that crazy killer's gun away and slapped the livin' daylights out of him!"
Phillips looked up at Massey and his eyes were hard, knowing eyes. "If you're smart, Massey," he said softly, "you'll never tangle with Matt Bardoul. If you do, he'll kill you!"
"Shut up, damn you!" Massey wheeled, his eyes ugly, then walked away, his feet slapping the boardwalk in the violence of his temper.
Matt stepped up on the boardwalk and stopped in front of Jacquine. "Ma'am," he said, his voice sharp from nervous tension, "you'd do better to stay off the street when there's trouble! You might have been killed!'
Stung by the sharpness of his voice, she stiffened to her full height, angry and amazed. "Why ... !" she gasped. "How dare you speak to me in that voice? If you think...!"
She might have forgiven him if he had not turned abruptly away leaving her with a furious temper and a mouthful of angry words for which she had no use. Angrily, she stamped her foot and stared after him. Then she flung herself around and started back to the IXL, her head high, her heart pounding. Barney heeled and started after her.
Murphy and Ban walked up to Matt. Murphy grinned at him. "You sure had me boogered," he said, "I figured sure as all get out he'd draw on you."
"What would you have done if he had?" Ban asked.
Matt Bardoul looked at him, surprised. "I'd have killed him," he said, "what did you think?"
They started up the street toward the Gem Theatre. "Jack Langrishe is putting on a show up to that theatre opposite Gold Street tonight," Ban suggested, "let's go have a look at it. I ain't seen a show since they took the first cows up from Texas!"
"Just so we get started for Split Rock in plenty of time," Matt said. "Bill Shedd's watchin' our wagons. He'll be on the job. He stopped by and told me this mornin' he was headed out there."
"That's good," Murphy struck a match on the seat of his jeans. "Stark's been keepin' an eye on 'em."
The three men stopped on a corner and watched the crowd passing. It was thinning out now, but the bars were filled. "Matt, what's wrong with this setup?" Hardy asked. "I don't like the look of things, an' never have. Logan Deane's hangin' out with Massey about half the time, an' Lute Harless tells me he seen Massey talkin' to Spinner Johns just an hour or so before he started huntin' you."
"That right?" It was possible, of course, Matt reflected, but somehow he had been divided between believing Johns was just out to get him because he had a sort of gunfighting reputation, or that Colonel Pearson had started the killer after him. That Clive Massey might have done it he doubted. It was possible, yet there would be no motive unless Massey had reason to fear him.
"Lute says there's sixty-two wagons out there now, all ready to roll. More than ninety men."
"That's a good lot."
"Enough to keep the Injuns off, all bein' armed like they are." Murphy shuffled his feet and shifted his pipe in his teeth. "Seen Abel Bain today."
Bardoul's head jerked around. "Did you say ...Abel Bain ?"
"Uh huh," Murphy looked at him shrewdly. "An' you know where? In Bat Hammer's wagon outfit!"
So? Matt rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. Now it was Abel Bain. The man was a renegade of the worst kind. A murderer, known to be a horsethief and a rustler. If Massey was taking on men like Bain there was nothing that could
Clive Massey, standing in the door of the IXL, cursed under his breath, grinding his teeth in impotent fury. Portugee Phillips moved up beside him, grinning slyly. "Ever see the like of that, Massey? That tooknerve ! I'd ride through fifty blizzards afore I'd walk up to a gun fighter like that! Walked right up to him, took that crazy killer's gun away and slapped the livin' daylights out of him!"
Phillips looked up at Massey and his eyes were hard, knowing eyes. "If you're smart, Massey," he said softly, "you'll never tangle with Matt Bardoul. If you do, he'll kill you!"
"Shut up, damn you!" Massey wheeled, his eyes ugly, then walked away, his feet slapping the boardwalk in the violence of his temper.
Matt stepped up on the boardwalk and stopped in front of Jacquine. "Ma'am," he said, his voice sharp from nervous tension, "you'd do better to stay off the street when there's trouble! You might have been killed!'
Stung by the sharpness of his voice, she stiffened to her full height, angry and amazed. "Why ... !" she gasped. "How dare you speak to me in that voice? If you think...!"
She might have forgiven him if he had not turned abruptly away leaving her with a furious temper and a mouthful of angry words for which she had no use. Angrily, she stamped her foot and stared after him. Then she flung herself around and started back to the IXL, her head high, her heart pounding. Barney heeled and started after her.
Murphy and Ban walked up to Matt. Murphy grinned at him. "You sure had me boogered," he said, "I figured sure as all get out he'd draw on you."
"What would you have done if he had?" Ban asked.
Matt Bardoul looked at him, surprised. "I'd have killed him," he said, "what did you think?"
They started up the street toward the Gem Theatre. "Jack Langrishe is putting on a show up to that theatre opposite Gold Street tonight," Ban suggested, "let's go have a look at it. I ain't seen a show since they took the first cows up from Texas!"
"Just so we get started for Split Rock in plenty of time," Matt said. "Bill Shedd's watchin' our wagons. He'll be on the job. He stopped by and told me this mornin' he was headed out there."
"That's good," Murphy struck a match on the seat of his jeans. "Stark's been keepin' an eye on 'em."
The three men stopped on a corner and watched the crowd passing. It was thinning out now, but the bars were filled. "Matt, what's wrong with this setup?" Hardy asked. "I don't like the look of things, an' never have. Logan Deane's hangin' out with Massey about half the time, an' Lute Harless tells me he seen Massey talkin' to Spinner Johns just an hour or so before he started huntin' you."
"That right?" It was possible, of course, Matt reflected, but somehow he had been divided between believing Johns was just out to get him because he had a sort of gunfighting reputation, or that Colonel Pearson had started the killer after him. That Clive Massey might have done it he doubted. It was possible, yet there would be no motive unless Massey had reason to fear him.
"Lute says there's sixty-two wagons out there now, all ready to roll. More than ninety men."
"That's a good lot."
"Enough to keep the Injuns off, all bein' armed like they are." Murphy shuffled his feet and shifted his pipe in his teeth. "Seen Abel Bain today."
Bardoul's head jerked around. "Did you say ...Abel Bain ?"
"Uh huh," Murphy looked at him shrewdly. "An' you know where? In Bat Hammer's wagon outfit!"
So? Matt rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. Now it was Abel Bain. The man was a renegade of the worst kind. A murderer, known to be a horsethief and a rustler. If Massey was taking on men like Bain there was nothing that could
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