Six Feet Four Part 32

It was straight into the town of Dead Man's Alley that the Kid's way led. The high sun glared down into a deserted street when he and Buck Thornton, a hundred yards behind him, pa.s.sed by the Here's How saloon and the Brown Bear and at last drew rein at Henry Pollard's gate. A couple of men at the lunch counter stared curiously after the Kid; they even got down hastily from their high stools and stared more curiously still when they saw who it was who followed.

"They've rode hard, them two," said one of the men thoughtfully. "Their horses is all in."

"The Kid ahead an' Buck Thornton followin'!" grunted the other musingly.

"An' the Kid never lookin' around!"

He shook his head and, long after both of the riders had pa.s.sed out of sight down the crooked street these two men looked after them wonderingly.

At Pollard's gate the Kid dismounted stiffly. Now for the first time Thornton came up to him.

"If you think Broderick's in there," he said sharply, "you'd better let me go ahead. You're in no shape, Bedloe...."

"You go to h.e.l.l," said Bedloe heavily. "He's mine."

He stepped forward and pulled open the gate. Here he paused just long enough to drag his revolver from the holster at his hip. With the weapon in his hand, swaying in his long-strided walk, he went to Pollard's front door. Just behind him, almost at his heels, came Thornton.

As he tried the door cautiously the Kid looked over his shoulder with a show of teeth.

"He's mine," he snarled again. "You keep your hands off."

Thornton offered no answer. The Kid, having ascertained that the door was locked, drew back, steadied himself with his hand against the wall, lifted his foot and with all of the power in him drove his heavy boot against the lock. Something broke; the panel splintered; the door gave a little. But only a little; the heavy bar which Henry Pollard used was in its place.

"Again," said Thornton. "Together!... Quick!"

So together Buck Thornton and Kid Bedloe, two men who had long hated each other, struck savagely at Pollard's barricade. And such was the weight of the two men, such the power resident in the two big bodies, that a hinge gave and after it an iron socket screwed to the wall was torn away from the woodwork, and the door went down.

Gathering all there was of strength left in him Kid Bedloe pushed to the fore and went down the hall; and Thornton followed at his heels. In this fas.h.i.+on they came to the door of Pollard's study and saw through it, since it had been flung wide open and so left.

In a far corner of the room was Winifred Waverly, her face dead white, her body pressed tight into the angle of the walls, her hands twisting before her, her eyes going swiftly to the two entering figures from that other figure which had held her fascinated. Upon the floor, just rising, knelt Ben Broderick. He had tossed a rug aside and had lifted out the short sections of half a dozen strips of flooring, disclosing a rude wooden vault below. Here was the acc.u.mulation of loot, here where the Kid had known Broderick was to be found.

For a very brief yet electrically vital and vivid moment there was no sound in the room, wherein never a single muscle twitched. And then there were no words and only three sharp pistol shots. Broderick had seen what lay in the Kid's eye, a look to be read by any man; he had s.n.a.t.c.hed his gun up from the floor beside him and had fired, point blank. There is no name for the brief fragment of time between his shot and the Kid's. But Ben Broderick had shot true to the mark, and the Kid was sinking; Bedloe's bullet had gone wide.... And then the third shot, Thornton's ... and as the two men fell, Kid Bedloe and Ben Broderick, they pitched forward toward the centre of the room and the big body of the Kid lay across the body of Ben Broderick. As the Kid died his eyes were upon Thornton, and in them was a look of content and of grat.i.tude!

"Again he tried to kiss me.... He is all brute. He ... he told me you were dead.... Oh, dear G.o.d, dear G.o.d!" cried the girl, shrinking back, covering her face with her hands.

Thornton, his face set and white and grave, came to her. She was trembling so that he put his arm about her. She sobbed and caught at him as a child might have done. His arm tightened, holding her closer.

"Let me take you away," he said gently.

With never a look back to see what long h.o.a.rded booty there in the hole in the floor had drawn Ben Broderick back to Pollard's house, he turned and with his arm still about her, led the girl from the room, from the house and out to his horse at the fence. She moaned again and drooped against him. He gathered her up into his arms tenderly. And with a tenderness which was to become part of the man, he held her close while he swung slowly into the saddle.

"Winifred Waverly...." he began.

There he stopped, looking with puzzled eyes down into her white face.

G.o.d knew how much she had gone through, what fear Ben Broderick had put into her heart. But at the least now she had fainted.

"She's all alone," muttered the cowboy. "All alone. And somebody's got to look out for her...."

He turned slowly and rode down the crooked street, carrying her lightly in his arms. And now, more than ever, did the two men at the lunch counter stare.

THE END