Broken Star (2006) Read online

  Then Vejar relaxed on recognizing his old friend George Harker. Though a hard man, the sophisticated Harker had impeccable poise that put him on terms of intimacy with top people in all quarters of Yancey. With a lithe and gracefully formed physique, he was resplendent in an olive-green jacket and darker green cravat complementing a high-collared shirt. Incredibly handsome despite many a bruising fight in his wild days, he smiled a welcome at Vejar.

  ‘George,’ Vejar said, making a quarter turn, one elbow remaining on the bar as he pointed with the forefinger of his other hand at the silver star pinned to his friend’s chest. ‘I heard that they made you sheriff.’

  ‘I’ve been hearing about you, too, Fallon,’ Harker replied meaningfully. ‘The price on your head goes up every month.’

  ‘You figuring on collecting the reward, George?’

  Harker shook his head. For all his impressive fighting record, he was a placid man unless he was roused, and he didn’t rouse easily. ‘Nope. We have been buddies too long for me to even consider it, Fallon. I’m not looking for extra bother. It takes me all my time to keep a grip on this town.’

  ‘Yancey sure has grown up since I rode out, George,’ Vejar remarked, looking around at the bustling saloon trade. He wanted to ask about Raya, but first needed to discover how the town might react to his return.

  ‘Some things haven’t changed,’ the sheriff told him in a cautionary tone. He used a nod of his head to indicate a vacant chair backed against a wall. ‘When you came in, Jack Smiley was sitting right there.’

  ‘So?’ Vejar questioned with a shrug of indifference. A former grub-line rider, Smiley did menial work for the Poole brothers.

  ‘He isn’t there now,’ Harker replied pointedly.

  ‘You’re saying that he’s riding out to tell the Poole brothers that I’m back in town, George?’

  ‘I’d wager my tin badge on it.’

  ‘But I killed Billy Poole in a fair fight,’ Vejar protested.

  ‘I believe you,’ Harker confirmed, nodding gravely, ‘but the Pooles don’t, and you don’t have one witness. Lew, Michael and Ben aren’t the forgetting and forgiving kind, Fallon.’

  ‘Are you telling me to get out of town before the Pooles come riding in, hell-bent on making trouble, George?’

  ‘Unless I’m greatly mistaken, that is what will happen, Fallon,’ Harker answered cautiously. ‘The Poole brothers own the biggest ranch in the territory. They have a lot of power hereabouts, and nobody’s going to complain if they gun you down.’

  ‘Let them try, George,’ Vejar said. ‘I’ll be ready for them.’

  Keeping his glistening black eyes on Vejar, Harker explained in a flat tone, ‘I know that, Fallon. But let me tell you how it is. I’m proud to be wearing this star, and I won’t betray the people who placed trust in me by making me sheriff. If you being back here means there’ll be gunplay, then I have to warn that I won’t treat you any different than anyone else.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to, George,’ Vejar conceded. ‘But giving the Pooles a chance to settle an old score isn’t what brought me back here.’ He accepted a cigar and a light from Harker before going on. ‘Yancey is a right prosperous town now, and that hasn’t gone unnoticed.’

  Harker’s face became cold and calculating. His teeth clamped hard on the lighted cigar they were holding. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying, compadre?’

  Vejar nodded.

  ‘The bank, Fallon?’

  Again Vejar nodded.

  ‘Come on,’ an interested Harker said, beckoning one of the bartenders. ‘I’ll get us a bottle and we’ll find a table.’

  When they were seated and Harker was pouring each of them a drink, Vejar remarked, ‘I intended to book in at Ma Cousins’ place, George, but I see that it’s just a ruin now.’

  Harker nodded. ‘Ma caught some kind of fever a year or so ago, and died real fast. But you can bed down in a cell at the jailhouse. That’s no problem, Fallon.’

  ‘You’re a true buddy, George,’ Vejar said, raising his glass, ‘and I’ll drink to that.’

  With his glass still on the table, Harker advised, ‘Hold on there for a minute before you raise your glass to me, Fallon. Just so’s there won’t be any misunderstanding between us later, I should tell you that me and Raya are together now.’

  Harker’s words made Vejar reel inwardly in shock. Though his resolve to warn the sheriff about the Klugg gang had just taken a battering, loyalty to an old friend would ensure that he did so. Yet what modicum of pleasure he had felt at coming home had died a sudden and painful death. He eyed the sheriff silently and coldly as he raised his glass to his lips, still unspeaking.

  *

  ‘You certain sure that it’s Vejar you saw?’ Lew Poole asked.

  Lew, the eldest of the three surviving Poole brothers, was a stocky, muscular man standing five feet six inches in height, with a rugged countenance that reflected his callous disposition. A man with a cruel and cunning nature, Lew Poole was not nearly as tough as his reputation proclaimed. But Jack Smiley was not the stuff of which heroes are made, and he cringed when questioned by Lew.

  ‘It was him, Lew,’ Smiley whined. ‘It was Fallon Vejar, sure as shootin’.’

  ‘What’s this about Vejar?’

  Having just come into the Twin Circle ranch house, Michael Poole dismissed Smiley with a contemptuous glance, and snapped the question at his brother.

  ‘Vejar’s back in town. Sitting drinking in The Hero,’ Lew answered.

  ‘He won’t be sitting there for much longer.’ A thin man with the sly face of a coyote, complete with slanted eyes in which cunning gleamed bright, Michael unbuttoned his coat, took it off and threw it on to a chair. ‘Young Billy will never be at rest until we deal with the man who murdered him in cold blood.’

  ‘Steady now, Michael,’ Lew warned, as he saw the conflict in his brother’s face, the sudden flare of his focused eyes, the tightening jaw muscles that widened his mouth. ‘I’m as riled as you that this varmint’s come back, but it ain’t wise to go riding off into town half-cocked.’

  ‘There’s only one of Vejar, and there’s three of us, Lew.’

  ‘Four,’ Jack Smiley said, tentatively.

  With a flick of his thumb, Lew Poole sent a coin spinning through the air and Smiley deftly caught it.

  ‘Get out of here, Smiley,’ Lew ordered brusquely. As Smiley obeyed, Lew turned to Michael. ‘Where’s Brother Ben?’

  ‘He’s got some of the hands fixing that broken rail down at the corral.’

  ‘Go get him,’ Lew said. ‘The three of us need to discuss this. We got to do something real quick about Vejar, but we got to let George Harker see us do it right, Michael.’

  An excellent choir was singing a hymn when Mary Alcott reached the lower end of Yancey’s main street. The sound seemed to escape from the church to float through the air unattached and eerie. Mary hesitated outside, reluctant to enter and impart news that she knew would upset her dearest friend. Plucking up courage, she reached for the door handle. The latch made an unexpectedly loud clank as Mary lifted it, making her both embarrassed and uncomfortable. But the singing continued uninterrupted as she tiptoed inside and noiselessly closed the door.

  Reverend Thomas Hailey, a small man with an abundance of grey hair, conducted a choir made up of young women. With a pulpit for a rostrum, the choirmaster’s head jerked this way and that, pausing in a listening position occasionally, first to the left and then to the right, then nodding contentedly. Then the combined voices faded into a pregnant silence that was invaded by a solo female voice. Both hands raised, head thrown back, the Reverend Halley coaxed out a truly wonderful voice that sang ‘Jerusalem.’

  The singer was Raya Kennedy, Mary’s best friend. Angelic in the church setting, Raya had long, straight golden hair framing a schoolgirl’s face that had a look of sadness. Her slender build added to the pre-puberty illusion. Forgetting her mission for a moment, Mary stood quietly, enthralled by the b
eauty of the voice that fully complemented the inspiring hymn. When the singing ended, Raya’s exquisite voice seemed to live on as a pleasing echo.

  With difficulty, Mary brought herself back to the task that had brought her to the church. She hurried up the aisle to a surprised Raya.

  ‘Mary, what brings you here?’ Raya enquired, curiosity creasing her brow.

  Up closer, the illusion of a slim, honey-haired child faded. Raya the girl-child looked older and tireder. Orphaned at the age of five, she had lived a harsh life until Mary had befriended her. Now living with Mary and her parents, she had become part of the family. Raya was also a partner with Mary in a small dressmaking business. Yet she hadn’t shed the sensitive skin of someone who has experienced how cruel and heartless people could be.

  ‘Can we talk for a moment, Raya?’ Mary asked, more a ploy to broach a difficult subject than it was a question.

  ‘Of course.’

  As the choir began rehearsing another hymn, Raya led the way to an alcove. When she turned with her back to the wall she was holding herself tight, stiff. Her grey eyes returned Mary’s gaze anxiously. Like all those who had suffered badly in life, Raya lived in constant expectation of more hard knocks.

  ‘What is it, Mary? What’s happened?’

  Taking hold of both of her friend’s hands. Mary spoke gently. ‘I thought that I ought to tell you, Raya. Fallon Vejar is back in town.’

  There was a prolonged silence. Then Raya uttered a bemused, ‘Why?’ Aware that the one-word question wasn’t directed at her, Mary made no attempt to reply. The choir was singing ‘Were You There When They Crucified Our Lord’, and Mary had to lean close to catch Raya’s words as she spoke again.

  ‘This is the last thing I wanted to happen, Mary. It will spoil everything.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Mary tried to assure her. ‘You are with George now. It could be that Fallon is just passing through, and he’ll be gone by morning.’

  ‘No.’ Raya shook her head almost violently. ‘The very fact that Fallon has come back means trouble, Mary.’

  That was something that Mary couldn’t argue against, so she remained quiet. She wished that everything could revert to what it had been an hour ago, clean and fresh and eternal. But it couldn’t and it wouldn’t, because Fallon Vejar had ridden back into town.

  They left the saloon together to walk slowly down the dark street. Though Vejar was of a somewhat taciturn nature, they conversed in the way of reunited old friends who have much to catch up on. But George Harker sensed that his long-term friendship with Vejar had been fractured earlier by mention of his relationship with Raya Kennedy. Raya and Vejar were to have been married when Vejar’s gunfighting had parted them. Harker balanced out the guilt he felt with the thought that Vejar had abandoned Raya. He guessed that the rift between Vejar and him would eventually close, but doubted whether it would ever again be quite the same between them.

  Vejar went quiet as they passed the feed store. Harker accepted that his friend was reliving a bad memory. It was from an alleyway just across the street that Billy Poole, who had lost heavily to Vejar in a game of poker that long ago evening, had taken a shot at Vejar. It was a mistake to pull a gun on a gunfighter of Fallon Vejar’s calibre, and an even bigger mistake to miss. Vejar had drawn and released a shot at where he had seen the flash of Billy’s gun. The sound of gunfire had brought people out on the street. Billy Poole had been found dead in the alley, his spine shattered by a bullet. It had been plain to Harker and some others that Billy had turned to flee after shooting at Vejar. But the three surviving Poole brothers had played on the fact that Billy had been shot in the back. His reputation as a fast gun and a man who seemed to attract trouble, had gone against Vejar, who fled before Rory Kelvin, the then sheriff who was under pressure from the town’s hierarchy, could arrest him for the murder of Billy Poole.

  Harker broke the silence as they walked, by asking, ‘How many are there in the Klugg gang, Fallon?’

  ‘Klugg and five others since I left,’ Vejar replied.

  ‘Is Klugg someone to be reckoned with?’

  ‘He’s the best, George.’

  Staying silent, Harker put out a hand to halt Vejar, who had himself noticed a subtle change in the shadows cast by a building ahead of them. Someone standing close to the building had moved slightly. This was Harker’ s town, so Vejar stayed put while the sheriff kept in tight to the buildings beside them as he moved swiftly and noiselessly on. Hearing an animal-like squeal, Vejar saw the figure of a man ejected from the shadows. From the way the figure was hurtled across the sidewalk to crash face down in the dusty street, Vejar assumed that the unfortunate man had been propelled by a kick from Harker.

  ‘Just a drunk,’ Harker told Vejar, when he joined him down the street.

  The man lay unmoving in the street, either unconscious from alcohol or rough treatment from Harker. Vejar remarked, ‘You’re as alert as ever, George. No one will ever get the drop on you.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice something up ahead of us, Fallon.’

  Not answering this, Vejar asked a question, ‘How many deputies you got?’

  ‘One,’ Harker answered ruefully. ‘And that’s old Dan Matthews.’

  ‘That’s as good as being on your own,’ Vejar commented solemnly, ‘You’ll need some good men backing you when you go against Ken Klugg, George.’

  With a shrug, Harker said, ‘I won’t find them in Yancey. Everyone here these days is bent on making money, not getting themselves shot.’

  ‘So you will have to rely on yourself,’ Vejar mused. ‘You’ve got the speed and the skill. You’re good, George.’

  ‘Perhaps not as good as you.’

  ‘That’s not what I was leading up to,’ Vejar explained. ‘What I’m saying is that even the best of gunslingers can’t take on the Klugg outlaw band alone.’

  ‘Maybe the two of us could,’ Harker suggested tentatively.

  ‘It’s not that easy for me, George.’

  ‘Loyalty to your old gang?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Vejar replied. ‘I made it pretty plain to Ken Klugg that I’ll act against him if he hits the bank here at Yancey.’

  Puzzled by this, Harker enquired, ‘I’ve never known you to duck a fight, Fallon, so what’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s not straightforward.’

  Though he had observed Vejar’s adverse reaction to learning that Raya and he were going out together, Harker hadn’t thought for one moment that it would come to this. He chose his words carefully. ‘Is it something between us, Fallon?’

  ‘No, it has nothing to do with you or anyone else here in Yancey,’ Vejar replied.

  They had reached the jailhouse, and an even more mystified Harker unlocked the door. Changing the conversation, he said, ‘You have the place to yourself, Fallon.’ He waved a hand towards the cells. ‘Feel free to choose the best bed in the house.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Vejar said.

  ‘I’ll look you up in the morning,’ Harker told him, pausing at the door to speak over his shoulder to Vejar. ‘I heard tell that there’s a girl riding with the Klugg outfit.’

  The sheriff meant this to be taken as a question. But Vejar ignored it completely. Certain that he had touched on what was bothering his friend, Harker said no more. Holding the door open for a moment, he gave Vejar the chance to say something. When his friend uttered not one word. Harker stepped out into the night and closed the door behind him.

  THREE

  It was ten o’clock in the morning and trading on Yancey’s main street was already brisk when Raya Kennedy walked to the bank. She had gone quickly, not wanting to encounter Fallon Vejar on the street. Now, with two other customers between her and the teller, she kept watch through the bank’s open door. Why was she doing that? Raya didn’t know the answer. Perhaps it was because if she saw him coming in her direction she could escape him. Or maybe it was that she secretly wanted to at least catch a glimpse of Fallon. That was understandable
, as they had once planned to marry, but inexcusable because she was now George Harker’s girl. George was a gentleman who was highly respected by everyone in town, whereas after being forced out of Yancey, Fallon had become an outlaw with a price on his head.

  Raya gave an involuntary little jump as a shadow fell across the doorway. The possibility that it was Fallon Vejar both unnerved and thrilled her a little. But it was a woman who entered. Around the same age as Raya, she was dark-complexioned; her black hair, worn long, was pulled back and tied with a single ribbon. She wore a crimson shirt and had a pair of saddle-bags draped over her left shoulder. Pausing to look curiously around her, the way strangers do on arriving, she flashed a brilliant smile at Raya.

  ‘So, this is Yancey,’ the woman said, speaking as though she and Raya had just ridden into town together.

  Taken aback by this direct approach, Raya’s natural shyness overwhelmed her. All she could manage to say was, ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Are you from around these parts?’ the dark woman asked. ‘I’m so glad to see a friendly face. I always feel so out of it, so alone, on arriving at somewhere new to me.’

  Smiling sympathetically, Raya nodded. ‘Yes, I have lived here all my life.’

  ‘Then we could be neighbours soon.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Raya responded, having swiftly come to like her new acquaintance.

  ‘Forgive me,’ the woman said, with a self-deprecating little smile. She put out her hand, hesitating slightly as she introduced herself. ‘Carmel Morrow.’

  ‘Raya Kennedy,’ Raya said, as she shook the woman’s hand. ‘You are considering moving to Yancey?’

  ‘If I can find the right place. My brother and I have worked hard all our lives making money for others, and now we want to go into ranching ourselves. Nothing big, nothing difficult to handle. Just something interesting and rewarding.’