Louis LAmour - Showdown at Yellow Butte

CHAPTER 1

E VERYTHING WAS QUIET in Mustang. Three whole days had passed without a killing. The townfolk, knowing their community, were not fooled. They had long since resigned themselves to the inevitable. In fact, they would be relieved when the situation was back to normala killing every day; more on hot days. Several days without deadly gun play built up a mounting tension that was unbearable. Who would be next?

Moreover, with Clay Allison, who had killed thirty men, playing poker over at the Morrison House, and Black Jack Ketchum, who richly deserved the hanging he was soon to get, sleeping off a drunk at the St. Jamestrouble could be expected in the very near future.

The walk before the St. James was now cool, and Captain Tom Kedrick, a stranger in town, sat in a well-polished chair and studied the street with interested eyes.

He was a tall young man with rusty brown hair and green eyes, quiet mannered and quick to smile. Women never failed to look twice, and when their eyes met his their hearts pounded, a fact of which Tom Kedrick was totally unaware. He knew women seemed to like him, but it never failed to leave him mildly astonished.

The street he watched was crowded with buckboards, freight wagons, a newly arrived stage and one about to depart. All the hitch-rails were lined with saddled horses wearing a variety of brands.

Kedrick, suddenly aware that a young man stood beside him, glanced up. The fellow was scarcely more than a boy and he had soft brown eyes and hair that needed cutting. Capn Kedrick? he inquired. John Gunter sent me. Im Dornie Shaw.

Oh, yes! Kedrick got to his feet, smiling, and thrust out his hand. Nice to know you, Shaw. Are you working for Gunter?

Shaws brown eyes were faintly ironic. With him, he corrected. I work for no man.

I see.

Kedrick did not see at all, but he was prepared to wait and find out. There was something oddly disturbing about this young man, something that had Kedrick on edge and queerly alert. Wheres Gunter now?

Down the street. He asked me to check an see if you were here, an if you were, to ask you to stick around close to the hotel. Hell be along soon.

All right. Sit down, why dont you?

Shaw glanced briefly at the chairs. Ill stand. I never sit in no chair with arms on them. Apt to get in the way.

In the way? Kedrick glanced up, and then his eyes fell to the two guns Shaw wore, their butts hanging wide. Oh, yes! I see. He nodded at the guns. The town marshal doesnt object?

Dornie Shaw looked at him, smiling slowly. Not to me, he dont. Wouldnt do him no good if he did.

Anyway, he added after a minute, not in Mustang. Too many hard cases. I never seen a marshal could make it stick in this town.

Kedrick smiled. Hickok? Earp? Masterson?

Maybe, Dornie Shaw was openly skeptical, but I doubt it. Allisons here. Sos Ketchum. Billy the Kids been around, and some of that crowd. A marshal in this town would have to be mighty fast, an prove it ever day.

Maybe youre right. He studied Shaw surreptitiously. What was it about him that was so disturbing? Not the two guns, for he had seen many men who wore guns, had been reared among them, in fact. No, it was something else, some quality he could not define, but it was a sort of lurking menace, an odd feeling about such a calm-eyed young man.

Weve got some good men, Shaw volunteered, after a minute. Picked up a couple today. Laredo Shads goin to be one of the best, Im thinkin. Hes a tough hand, an gun wise as all get out. Three more come in today. Fessenden, Poinsett an Goff.

Obviously, from the manner in which he spoke, the names meant much to Shaw, but they meant exactly nothing to Kedrick. Fessenden seemed to strike some sort of a responsive note but he could not put a finger on it. His eyes strayed down the street, studying the crowd. You think theyll really fight? he asked, studying the street. Are there enough of them?

That bunch? Shaws voice was dry. Theyll fight, all right. You got some tough boys in that outfit. Injun scrappers, an such like. They wont scare worth a durn. He glanced curiously at Kedrick. Gunter says youre a fighter.

Was that doubt in Shaws voice? Kedrick smiled, then shrugged. I get along. I was in the Army, if that means anything.

Been West before?

Sure! I was born in California, just before the Rush. When the war broke out I was sixteen, but I went in with a bunch from Nevada. Stayed in a couple of years after the war, fighting Apaches!

Shaw nodded, as if satisfied. Gunter thinks well of you, but hes only one of them, an not the most important one.

A short, thick-set man with a square-cut beard, that made him look enough like General Grant to be his twin, was pushing through the crowd toward them. He even smoked a thick black cigar.

The man walking beside him was tall as Kedrick, who stood an easy inch above six feet. He had a sharply cut face and his eyes were cold, but they were the eyes of a man born to command, a man who could be utterly ruthless. That would be Colonel Loren Keith. That meant there was still one left he had to meetBurwick. The three were partners, and of the three, only Burwick was from the area.

Gunter smiled quickly, his lips parting over clenched white teeth that gripped his cigar. He thrust out his hand. Good to see you, Kedrick! Colonel, this is our man! If there ever was a man born to ramrod this thing through, this is the one! I told you of that drive he made for Patterson! Took those cattle through without losing a head, rustlers an Comanches be danged!

Keith nodded, his cold eyes taking in Kedrick at a glance. Captainthat was an army title, Kedrick?

Army. The War Between the States.

I see. There was a Thomas Kedrick who was a sergeant in the fighting against the Apaches.

That was me. All of us went down some in rank after the troops were discharged.

How much time in the war? Keiths eyes still studied him.

Four years, and two campaigning in the Southwest.

Not bad. You should know what to expect in a fight. His eyes went to Kedricks, faintly mocking. I have twelve years, myself. Regular army.

Kedrick found that Keiths attitude irritated him. He meant to say nothing, but suddenly he was speaking. My American army experience, Colonel, was only part of the story. I was with Bazaine, at the defense of Metz, in the Franco-Prussian War. I escaped, and was with MacMahon at the Battle of Sedan.

Keiths eyes sharpened and his lips thinned. Kedrick could feel the sharp dislike rising in the man.

Is that all? he asked coolly.

Why, no. Since you ask, it was not. I was with Wolseley, in the Second Ashanti War, in Africa. And I was in the two-year campaign against the Tungans of northern Tien Shanwith the rank of General.

You seem to get around a good bit, Keith said dryly, a genuine mercenary!

Kedrick smiled, undisturbed. If you like. Thats what you want here, isnt it? Men who can fight? Isnt it customary for some men to hire others to do their fighting for them?

Colonel Keiths face flamed, then went white, but before he could speak, a big, square-faced man thrust himself through the crowd and stopped to face them.