Buchanan's Seige (11 page)

"They stole our cattle. They burnt Trevor out."

"Then why is it I am here?" Trevor called from the
roof. "You liar."

"We'll make it up to you, Trevor. Build you a new
house. Just you all surrender, and we'll make a deal. You leave the country. We pay the freight."

"I don't hear from Dealer or Morgan," Trevor retorted.
"You're a fool, Brad. They've got you in a box."

"I'm backin' Brad," Fox said. "You can all take what
ever you can tote and go. Nothin' will happen to you."

"Oh, what a story," said Rob Whelan. "Tell him to go
straight to hell."

"Durkin," Fox yelled. "You're there some place. What about you?"

"Go to hell, like Whelan suggested," said Durkin from the barn. "I know you, and I know Morgan and Pollard."

"You people could start elsewhere," Bradbury urged. "There's plenty of places. Like I say, we'll pay you enough to get started again wherever you want to go."

"And keep our mouths shut forever," said Whelan.
"Live out our lives with Adam Day hanged by the neck, us
knowin' who done it."

"You see, these people don't want to be run off," Bu
chanan said. "They're right peculiar that way. You got
one man down. How many do we have to send after him?"

"Too many," Pollard snarled. "C'mon, Boss." He
tugged at Bradbury, who pulled himself away.

Buchanan said, "They got you, Colonel. They got you
in a bind."

"The women." Bradbury was pleading now. "At least
let the women go."

"You don't like that part?" Whelan was at the window
now. "You dirty, lousy, lowdown skunk-bastards, you
don't like it about the women? Well, lump it!"

Amanda Day said, "Let me, please." She went to stand
beside Buchanan. He watched for movement on the knoll
or in the trees, not trusting them for an instant.

She called, "The women decline. The women have seen
your handiwork. They saw my husband. The whole town
saw him. The women are staying."

Pollard said, "Y' see? C'mon."

Bradbury went unwillingly as his foreman hauled at
him. Dealer Fox was already plodding back toward the
trees. Buchanan was watching the top of the knoll. A man
appeared, kneeling, his rifle pointed at the house.

There was a shot from the roof. The man tumbled and
rolled down the hill. Shouts went up and a rataplan of lead
rang from the stone house as bullets sought the sharp
shooter. Trevor's laugh could be heard, light and merry.

"Could have been Dealer, y' know. Or better still, Pollard. Mind your manners, now. Who's next?"

The gunfire thundered, but no one showed himself. It
was a good start, but a long day remained. And then there
would be night.

Buchanan made the rounds, checking his forces. The
open fields precluded an attack from the rear. The flanks
were protected by the barn and the truck garden leading to
the road. This was the only salvation he had been able to
see.

He paused beside Kovacs. The man's face seemed thin
ner, his eyes were sunken, but he was unafraid. He had
made his peace and was facing disaster as best he knew
how.

Buchanan asked, "You got a handsaw around?" _
·

"Saw?"

"That hole up yonder. If you could make it bigger I'd
admire to make it to the roof. The sun and all, nobody can stay up there all day."

"Is so." He brightened. It was always good to have
some definite task. He bustled into the kitchen.

Whelan was watching in Buchanan's mirror arrange
ment. "They'll be schemin' and augurin'. Bradbury, he's in
it
now."

They won't rush us in the daytime." Buchanan made
hi
s voice light, confident for all to hear.

"If they got duck brains, they won't rush us nohow,"
said
Fay Whelan.

"They got to," said Buchanan. "This house won't burn.
T
hey’ll
sharp
shoot all day. Night comes, they got to
move.”

"Good thing we got the stable covered."

"If Durkin can hold it, that's a real hole card."

Fay asked, "You think he's on the level?"

"We'll watch the barn. Night and day."

If Durkin was a plant, the whole thing could go to
pieces, Buchanan knew. He went into the kitchen. Aman
da was preparing cold food that could be eaten quickly
and easily. The Indian girl was stirring another brew on
the stove, and Buchanan could detect a different odor to
the herbs she was using.

"How is Weevil?" he asked her.

"Much better today."

"When can he handle a gun?"

"Soon." She looked at Buchanan. "It is the black man
who hurts."

"Coco. His name is Coco. If it ever comes hand to
hand, he'd be our best man."

"Yes. He is very strong." She indicated the pot on the
stove. "There is much good here. These cures are handed down only by word of mouth, you know."

"I know. Your people are very wise."

She smiled gently. Her eyes were not quite black. They were wide-set and seemed to see more than the eyes of or
dinary people. "You are a friend."

"Of the Crow, yes." He grinned at her. "I seen the time
some Apaches and me didn't hit it off so good."

"I do not know Apaches. I know you do not tell lies."

"Not when the truth'll do," he told her.

"You are like Badger."

"Maybe a little, because we been around so long."

"The others, they are different," she whispered. "You must watch all of them excepting Pieter and Jenny."

"I'll watch. You do your best for Coco."

She nodded gravely, "I will do so."

The sound of Kovacs' saw was homey. It could have
been reassuring if an occasional bullet had not winged its
way to smash into a wall or a piece of furniture.

Amanda said, "I can't help ducking. As if it would do
any good if one of them is meant for me."

"Only way to look at it," Buchanan told her.

"You're accustomed to fighting. It's just plain fortunate for us that you're here."

"Maybe." He need not boost the spirits of this woman,
he felt. "A lot of luck's going to enter into this hooraw."

"I believe in you." She looked straight at him. "I wish
we had met before. Any time before."

"It might've been real nice." He smiled at her. He had
to remember that she had not been in love with her husband before he died. He wanted to respect her, there was
something special about her.

"It would have been very nice indeed," she said.

He nodded and went out of the kitchen. Kovacs was
coming down the ladder. A bullet slashed across the room
and narrowly missed the saw. It caromed off the stone wall and went into the fireplace.

Kovacs said sadly, "Our house. We had pride in our
house. We had love." He looked beyond Buchanan to
where Raven was attending the two who had been bat
tered. "Much love."

"I can see that." Buchanan felt more helpless every mo
ment. No matter what the final result, there would be the damage to property, the certain injury to individuals. They all looked to him, and there was little he could do.

He climbed up to the roof with his rifle. He slid on el
bows
and knees to the parapet, thankful that the sharp-
s
h
ooters in the trees did not have the proper angle for a
fair shot at him. As he crawled, he thought of the woman
and
the banked fires within her. For a long time, she en
d
u
red her life with Adam Day with that fire slumbering.
S
h
e must have been pushed to the limit to leave him
—
and she had been courageous to attempt to return, not for
her
own sake, but for Adam's.

The elder Thome whined, "I'm mighty thirsty here in
th
e sun."

“
You're excused," said Buchanan. "Trevor, will you
kind
a take charge downstairs?"

'"
R
ight-o. Must say, Durkin's been taki
n
a few pot
shots
from the barn. Hasn't hit anything yet, though."

"Which could mean anything," said Buchanan.

"Shall watch," Trevor promised and followed Pa
Thorne.

Sonny Thorne fingered an old rifle, squirmed, keeping his head down. "Mr. Buchanan?"

"Uh-huh."

" 'Bout the nigger."

"Black man, name of Coco Bean. Mister Bean to you."

"I seen buffalo sojers. Good men. Course, the blue uni
form, that sets Pa off, us bein' Secesh."

"My father fought with Jackson."

"No foolin'?" The straw-haired thin man was surprised. "I woulda took you for a Yankee."

"Wasn't in it, myself. Took care of the home place."

"Well, wanted you to know. Pa, he goes on a lot. Can't say I'm altogether agin him. Ain't fer it, neither. Man's a
man. Not that I'd want him to marry my sister."

"If you had a sister," Buchanan said, "Coco wouldn't
want to marry her. Ever think of that?"

Sonny Thorne scowled for a moment. "Can't believe
that. On t'other hand. I ain't got a sister." He brightened.
"So best not to think on it."

"Uh-huh. Best not to strain yourself." Buchanan saw a
movement in the trees and fired a shot. There was answer
ing fire from the knoll, all directed at the roof. "Tryin' a
sort of crossfire on us. Can't quite make it. They'll have to think of somethin' smart."

"If they was smart, they wouldn't've hung Adam," said
Sonny Thorne with unexpected force. "Cause you know
why?"

"Why?"

"Didn't nobody real care a damn for Adam. People
liked her . . . Amanda. Adam was too muchety-much. He
overdone it. He was honest and all.
...
But he rubbed it into people that didn't work as hard as he did, sunup to
sundown. We ain't here on account of Adam Day."

"Then why are you here?"

"Them others, Bradbury and Fox and Crane, they
pushed too hard. Pretty soon, we was in a corner." He
grinned wryly. "You know how it is. Rats'll fight when
cornered. And so will cats and just about everything else
on earth."

Out of the mouths of the prejudiced ignorant, thought Buchanan, and out of the souls of people of every stage of life. There was no such thing as
little people
or
big people,
just human beings doing what had to be done. That fact
made it easier for him to face impending disaster.

Colonel Bradbury sat on a fallen tree trunk and
watched squat, ugly Toad Tanner drive a wagon into the clearing. There was a gunman on the seat with Tanner but
none in the wagon body. Dealer Fox went to investigate.
Bradbury wore his six
shooter for the first time in years
and nursed a rifle upon his lap.

Fox asked, "You get the stuff okay?"

"Kegs of powder. All the dynamite in town." Tanner
chuckled. "Wasn't easy. Store didn't want to sell out all
his stock. People gettin' a bit techy in town."

"Hope you didn't start a ruckus."

"Naw. Just showed him my hawgleg and ast pretty. He come through."

"We don't want the town against us. Don't want them repairin' the telegraph line or makin' any noises. Got to be
a mite careful there."

"Didn't hurt him none. Just sorta convinced him.
Where you want the wagon?"

"Over back of the knoll, out of range of the house.
Crane and Pollard'll tell you what to do."

Bradbury said nothing. Jigger Dorn was lounging near
by, grinning as always. There was never a moment one of
them wasn't hanging around, watching.

It was getting to be a nightmare. The wagon contained
enough explosives to blow up the countryside. And already there were two dead men buried over beyond the
knoll. Drifters whose families would never know their last r
est
ing place. It had been easy to talk of subduing rustlers,
fence-cutters, barn-burners. The doing of it was different.
He had made his bid too late and, of course, had failed.
T
h
ey had been against it, they had sneered at him when it
idled. Now he was virtually a prisoner.

"And if things go wrong, they'll find a way to kill me," he muttered to himself. Dorn was grinning at him. There
was never any mirth in Dorn's grimace, he knew.

Tanner was saying, "Got to work to that stable. Mebbe
tunnel underground, plant this here stuff. Ain't no other
way agin that damn stone house."

"If we can set it afire, we can make a charge."

"They'd pick us off like settin' ducks," said Tanner.
"Men ain't gonna just go and be shot down."

"They're bein' paid to fight. In advance. We got a heap
of money invested here."

"Sure you do. And they figger to live to spend it." Tan
ner laughed. "Only thing you got goin' is the women.
They'd like to git hold of them women."

Bradbury stirred. Tanner cast him a contemptuous
glance. The wagon squeaked its way out of the glade. No
one had bothered to grease the axles. There were too
many men from different parts of the country and no one
man to maintain strict order, which was a weakness. If he could get out of there, he thought, he might rid himself of complicity in the entire operation.

He said, "About the telegraph line, Dealer. Maybe I
better take a couple men and make sure it stays down."

"Best idea you had yet," said Fox. He turned to Dorn. "Send three men to keep that wire down. Don't kill any
body. Just keep 'em away from where it's cut."

"Right," said Dorn.

Fox looked at Bradbury. "No way you can duck outa
this, you know. We're in it together now."

A shaft of sunlight cut through the branches of the trees
and fell upon the face of Bradbury's longtime neighbor and associate. "Why, Dealer, you're scared! You're as
scared as I am!"

Fox ducked his head into shade. "Maybe I am. Maybe
this won't go like it should. But by God, I'm stickin'. I
ain't runnin' out like an old woman."

"Stickin'," said Bradbury. "I suppose that makes you a
man."

"It makes out that we got everything at stake here, and
I don't give a damn who suffers, I'm savin' my own skin."

Bradbury nodded. "Yes. Lookin' back, I see it. You
was always out to save your hide. All the way through.
You and that fool Morgan Crane. He thinks you're real clever. Maybe you are, Dealer, maybe you are. But this
time, you and Morgan bit off a big chaw."

Fox turned abruptly away. He walked to where the old
killer, Dab Geer, sat honing a Bowie knife. He motioned
toward Bradbury with his head, and Geer showed tooth
less gums in a leer. It was better to talk with Morgan and
Pollard at this time. They had no trepidation, they knew
the stone house could be destroyed with all who were in
side.

Bradbury debated with himself. He could shoot Geer
with the rifle from where he sat. He could get to his horse
and make a run for it. He might even be able to send a
message to the governor asking help, thus removing him
self from the siege and all that it stood for.

But he could not bring Adam Day back to life. The
town knew. Pollard had been at the lynching, and Pollard
was Bradbury's man. The parade of the corpse through
the town had labeled him. The fight with Buchanan-
—
everyone knew what was involved. Trevor's abdication,
the burning of Trevor's place, a stupid operation now that
he thought about it. Nobody believed the story about Trev
or and Fay Whelan. Only fools would think up such non
sense to make a case for themselves.

Dealer was right. They were in it together. They were in
for
it in every manner and fashion.
The only way out was
to destroy the witnesses and hope the word of the Cattleman's Association and their hired guns would prevail.

If he had only thought it through beforehand, if Buchanan had only arrived earlier, before the lynching . . .
His mind boggled. He sat staring at the gun in his hands,
a
n
aging man lost in his own land.

On the lee side of the knoll, Dealer Fox spoke privately t
o
Morgan Crane. "Supposin' somebody does repair the
tel
egraph wire before our men can get to it?"

"Dammit to hell, why didn't we leave a guard on it?"

"We didn't. So we got to move fast. We got to get to
that barn, then to the house."

"Yeah. You're right, Dealer. Blow up the damn place."
Morgan Crane stared down the lee side of the small hill.
"How we goin' to do that? There's too much open space
yonder tw
i
xt us and the barn."

"Sime," called Dealer Fox. "Sime!"

The foreman of Bar-B strolled up from the wagon, a
seamy-faced man, a veteran of the cattle drives, the
honky-tonks, the gambling dens. "Got enough ammuni
tion, all right. Now what is it?"

"The barn," Crane said in his harsh manner. "Gotta get
the dynamite and stuff down there and blow 'em out."

Pollard looked at Fox. "He gone crazy or somethin'?"

"It's got to be done and quick."

"You're gettin' the wind up," Pollard said. "Slow down. They got us stopped for a while."

Fox said, "The telegraph wire. Somebody could send
for troops, militia."

Pollard shrugged. "That's your business. There's no
body here would try and get to that stable in daytime. And
I ain't too sure about night."

Fox bit at a fingernail. "All right. Night. We'll try it
after dark."

"We? You goin' down there?" Pollard grinned.

"I'll damn well go," yelled Crane. "What's got into you,
Sime? How come you're speakin' up so biggety?"

"My neck's on the line," Pollard told him. "Half the
men we got here came on account of I sent for 'em. They
ain't makin' any brash moves without me okayin' 'em.
See?"

Fox said hastily, "We appreciate, Sime. We know what
you done
...
are doin'. But we got to move fast."

Pollard said, "I'll think on it." He went back to the
wagon, speaking to the men, ordering the safe storage of
the
explosives and the boxes of ammunition, not looking
back at the ranchmen.

Crane growled, "Brad never could handle him. Sp
o
iled
him rotten. He needs to be took down a peg or two."