The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1942-10-01
CHAPTER XIX


for his hat he left the room, cross
ing the darkened store and letting
himself out to the porch. Habit
made him reach into his pockets for
his cigarette paper; he rolled up a
smoke without giving it any thought.
He was like this, sorry and con-
fused and still stirred by AIMS kiss
when he heard Jesse Rusey call out
sharply:
Heads up-heads up!"
That tone, from the silent Rusey,
was a warning that made him drop
his smoke and jerk around. He saw,
first, the two Ryder brothers backed
against the saloon wall, as though
pushed against it; and then, his
glance racing on, he found Rusey in
the thick shadows by the hotel. Ru-
sey had drawn his gun on the Ry-
ders; he was holding them there.
Morgan knew at once how it was,
and backed against the store wall,
sharply scanning all the roundabout
shadows, his nerves quickening and
his pulse striking hard in his neck.
Swinging his head through a full
half-circle he looked into the gray
deserted shadows of Old Town and
saw Herendeen slowly drop back
around the corner of the blacksmith
shop into darkness.
He remained in his tracks, know
ing what lay before him yet puz-
zled that Herendeen should slide
away as though avoiding him. He
knew Herendeen thoroughly - the
raw physical courage, the sullen will
that drove him forward, the con-
tempt he had for weakness, the
hatred which for these ten years had
governed his life and his actions.
Thus this backward step into dark
ness seemed out of character. Think
ing about it, Morgan looked along
the street again and now noticed the
shape of somebody outlined in a
dark second-story window of the ho-
tel. He didn't know who it was but
he realized Herendeen had noticed
the man and was protecting himself
in the fight to come.
Morgan, hanging to his tracks,
drew and fired. He saw Herendeen' S
gun kick up from its first shot; he
saw the barrel steady again. The
roar of the shots cracked along the
street and somewhere men ran the
walks recklessly. These were sem
sations that reached him all at once,
these and the crash of bullet into
the wall behind him and the smell
of powder He had fired twice, still
watching Herendeen'S gun settle to
a level pointing. But he fired no
more, for he heard his shot strike
home, releasing a quick small cough
from Herendeen. The big mans
gun dropped; he fired as it went
down, the slug breaking up dust
from the street. His shoulders fell
back against the wall of the black
smith shop and scrubbed along the
boards. Morgan's bullet had knocked
him back, and when he fell it was
this way, slowly to sitting position
and then sidewise, as though wearily
going to sleep. The shadows at the
base of the building smothered him
all Morgan saw was the vague stain
of his face.
The echoes of the firing had not
yet died when men ran into the
street, toward Morgan. Someone
called: "Clay-that your" He didn't
answer, for he was paying his re-
spects to Ben Herendeen-a man
who had never known what fear
was, a man who had waited for him,
without trickery, to come up and
end this quarrel. That, Morgan be-
lieved, had been the single great
force in Ben Herendeen's life-his
will to push aside, to destroy the
one person who had ever taken from
him anything he had wanted. He
turned from the gathering crowd,
walking back to the main street,
fatigue beginning to spread through
him. 1t was deep in his bones, il
ran shallowly beneath his skin. Parr
Gentry walked from the shadows of
the hotel and confronted him. Parr
said, in a smooth fatherly voice
"Well, Clay. I'm sure glad it wasn't
you"
"Parr," said Morgan, "Vance
Ketchell watched you 60 into the
Potholes yesterday and he watched
you come out. You met Hillhouse
and spoke to him. After that Hill
house went into the Potholes. and
found Hack" He had no feeling in
his voice. The words were slow and
fiat. IF you are still in this coun-
try tomorrow night you'll be dead.