He knew what would happen. At the sudden slamming of the door Ev Munson’s hair-trigger nerves would react and he would draw, and that was just what happened.
The startling slam of the opening door triggered Ev Munson’s gun hand and it swept down for the six-shooter. Tap took one long step through the door and drew at the same instant. His gun muzzle came up, he saw the reckless, black-clad young man with the wolfish smile, and he fired.
The wolfish smile vanished in a sudden blotching of blood, and Tap shot again, holding the gun lower, and saw Ev Munson stagger one hesitating step forward and go on his face.
At the same instant, he switched his gun and shot at Lin Stocker, who was a few yards to the right. He shot too fast, and the bullet hit Stocker in the knee and he pitched over, losing his grip on his gun.
Tap quickly stepped back inside, jerking the door to, and wheeling, he raced up the steps. In his mind he had rehearsed every move that was to follow, and he performed them smoothly now. As he reached the top of the steps he took three long strides down the hall, grasping a chair as he left the landing, and putting it down under the trap door that led to the roof.
He stepped up on the chair, jumped, and grabbed the edge of the opening. Holding himself with one hand, he pushed back the trap, then hoisted himself through.
He took a quick step, and was under the trap to the roof itself. He released the latch, pushed open the door, and after a quick look pulled himself through to the slanting roof, where he was hidden from the street by the false front of the building. He ran along the roof, jumped to the flat roof of the next building, and went quickly to the front of it.
The man at the wagon whom he had seen earlier was standing there holding a pistol; a few feet away, Shabbit held a shotgun. Both were waiting for him to show himself. He took a careful sight along the barrel of the Smith & Wesson and shot the man by the wagon through the shoulder. He dropped the rifle and whipped sharply around.
Running to the rear of the building. Tap leaped to the roof below, then dropped into the space between the buildings. There was a door there, and he ducked through it just as a bullet smashed into the door jamb, inches from his head, stinging his face with splinters.
Instead of going out the front door, he ran across, seeing a window open, and leaped through it into the alley beyond.
At that moment there was a sudden burst of firing in the street, and he paused, gasping for breath, and puzzled. Suddenly he saw Shabbit running, and he ducked into the same narrow alley in which Duvarney stood. There was blood on Shabbit’s shoulder and his face was white and frightened. He started to run, then brought up short. His shotgun started to lift, and Tap Duvarney shot him through the second button of his shirt, shot twice.
Surprised at the shooting from the street, he started back that way, picking up the shotgun as he stepped around Shabbit. At the opening into the square, he paused, looking out.
The shooting ceased.
On the far side of the square a tall man was sitting quietly in his saddle; nearer by he saw another. Other riders were coming along both sides of the square, their guns ready. Doc Belden…Lawton Bean…Welt Spicer…they were all there.
He stepped out, and half a dozen guns swung to cover him until they saw who he was.
“You know somethin’, Major?” Lawton Bean said, grinning at him. “Those boys weren’t much on the fight. I was some surprised. Figured they’d hold up better. Why, this here shindig hardly got started until they all taken out runnin’…all that was able.”
Doc rode up. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Tom Kittery came walking across the square. “You tryin’ to hog all the fun? I almost missed out on the endin’ of my own feud!”
Tappan Duvarney looked around carefully. “All right, boys,” he said. “We’ve got some cattle waiting. Shall we get back to them?”
*
IN HIS ROOM on the second floor of the hotel Jackson Huddy held his rifle easily in his hands and looked down into the square. He could see Duvarney’s shoulder…just a little more now, and…
“Mr. Huddy?”
He turned sharply. Jessica Trescott was standing within ten feet of him and she was holding a very steady Colt House Pistol aimed at his stomach. “Mr. Huddy, I would take it kindly if you would just put that rifle down, then unbuckle your gun belt, very carefully.”
“I never shot a woman,” Huddy said. “I never would.”
“The reverse is not true, Mr. Huddy. This woman has never shot a man, but believe me, she certainly would. Also, I am somewhat nervous, and if I start shooting it is likely I will empty this gun into you.
“You see, Mr. Huddy, I came west to marry Mr. Duvarney. I came out here because I love him and I want to bear children for him and to live out my life with him, so if you think I am going to let a man like you come between us with a bullet, you are wrong. I will kill you, Mr. Huddy, if you do not come away from that window, get on your horse, and ride right out of our lives.
“Mady Coppinger told me you came from Alabama, Mr. Huddy. The only city in Alabama that I know is Mobile. It is very lovely at this time of year. Would you go now…please?”
He looked at her, and then he looked at the gun. The hand that moved was only to lift his hat. “Your pleasure, ma’am,” he said, and walked from the room and down the back hall.
She followed and stood by the door, watching him ride away, sitting very straight in the saddle.
Tom Kittery stood with Tappan when she reached the street. “Mady is here,” she said.
“I saw her,” Tom said. “I…I borrowed money and loaned it to her. She’s gone off to N’Orleans. I reckon I’ll find somebody else, somewhere on up the trail.”
“You will, Tom. I’m sure of it.” Jessica turned to look up at Tap. “Come on, Tappan. Those cattle are waiting.”
“And we’d better find a sky pilot,” Tap commented. “We might as well make it legal while we’re at it.”
“Yes, that, too,” she said.
“You’re forgettin’ somethin’, Major,” Spicer said. “What about Jackson Huddy?”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Jessica said. “We had a talk and he decided to go back to Alabama. If you doubt it, look in the room up over the door. You’ll find his rifle and pistol there.”
Tappan Duvarney looked at her quizzically. “You know, Jessica, that’s a story I would really like to hear.”
“I’ll tell you…sometime.” She reached in her purse and took out the Colt. “Tappan, would you carry this for me ? It is getting very heavy.”
About Louis L’Amour
*
“I think of myself in the oral tradition—
as a troubadour, a village tale-teller, the man
in the shadows of the campfire. That’s the way
I’d like to be remembered as a storyteller.
A good storyteller.”
IT IS DOUBTFUL that any author could be as at home in the world re-created in his novels as Louis Dearborn L’Amour. Not only could he physically fill the boots of the rugged characters he wrote about, but he literally “walked the land my characters walk.” His personal experiences as well as his lifelong devotion to historical research combined to give Mr. L’Amour the unique knowledge and understanding of people, events, and the challenge of the American frontier that became the hallmarks of his popularity.
Of French-Irish descent, Mr. L’Amour could trace his own family in North America back to the early 1600s and follow their steady progression westward, “always on the frontier.” As a boy growing up in Jamestown, North Dakota, he absorbed all he could about his family’s frontier heritage, including the story of his great-grandfather who was scalped by Sioux warriors.
Spurred by an eager curiosity and desire to broaden his horizons, Mr. L’Amour left home at the age of fifteen and enjoyed a wide variety of jobs including seaman, lumberjack, elephant handler, skinner of dead cattle, miner, and an officer in the transportation corps during World War II. Durin
g his “yondering” days he also circled the world on a freighter, sailed a dhow on the Red Sea, was shipwrecked in the West Indies and stranded in the Mojave Desert. He won fifty-one of fifty-nine fights as a professional boxer and worked as a journalist and lecturer. He was a voracious reader and collector of rare books. His personal library contained 17,000 volumes.
Mr. L’Amour “wanted to write almost from the time I could talk.” After developing a widespread following for his many frontier and adventure stories written for fiction magazines, Mr. L’Amour published his first full-length novel, Hondo, in the United States in 1953. Every one of his more than 120 books is in print; there are nearly 270 million copies of his books in print worldwide, making him one of the bestselling authors in modern literary history. His books have been translated into twenty languages, and more than forty-five of his novels and stories have been made into feature films and television movies.
His hardcover bestsellers include The Lonesome Gods, The Walking Drum (his twelfth-century historical novel), Matagorda, Last of the Breed, and The Haunted Mesa. His memoir, Education of a Wandering Man, was a leading bestseller in 1989. Audio dramatizations and adaptations of many L’Amour stories are available on cassette tapes from Bantam Audio publishing.
The recipient of many great honors and awards, in 1983 Mr. L’Amour became the first novelist ever to be awarded the Congressional Gold Medal by the United States Congress in honor of his life’s work. In 1984 he was also awarded the Medal of Freedom by President Reagan.
Louis L’Amour died on June 10, 1988. His wife, Kathy, and their two children, Beau and Angelique, carry the L’Amour publishing tradition forward.
Bantam Books by Louis L’Amour
NOVELS
Bendigo Shafter
Borden Chantry
Brionne
The Broken Gun
The Burning Hills
The Californios
Callaghen
Catlow
Chancy
The Cherokee Trail
Comstock Lode
Conagher
Crossfire Trail
Dark Canyon
Down the Long Hills
The Empty Land
Fair Blows the Wind
Fallon
The Ferguson Rifle
The First Fast Draw
Flint
Guns of the Timberlands
Hanging Woman Creek
The Haunted Mesa
Heller with a Gun
The High Graders
High Lonesome
Hondo
How the West Was Won
The Iron Marshal
The Key-Lock Man
Kid Rodelo
Kilkenny
Killoe
Kilrone
Kiowa Trail
Last of the Breed
Last Stand at Papago Wells
The Lonesome Gods
The Man Called Noon
The Man from Skibbereen
The Man from the Broken Hills
Matagorda
Milo Talon
The Mountain Valley War
North to the Rails
Over on the Dry Side
Passin’ Through
The Proving Trail
The Quick and the Dead
Radigan
Reilly’s Luck
The Rider of Lost Creek
Rivers West
The Shadow Riders
Shalako
Showdown at Yellow Butte
Silver Canyon
Sitka
Son of a Wanted Man
Taggart
The Tall Stranger
To Tame a Land
Tucker
Under the Sweetwater Rim
Utah Blaine
The Walking Drum
Westward the Tide
Where the Long Grass Blows
SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
Beyond the Great Snow Mountains
Bowdrie
Bowdrie’s Law
Buckskin Run
Dutchman’s Flat
End of the Drive
From the Listening Hills
The Hills of Homicide
Law of the Desert Born
Long Ride Home
Lonigan
May There Be a Road
Monument Rock
Night over the Solomons
Off the Mangrove Coast
The Outlaws of Mesquite
The Rider of the Ruby Hills
Riding for the Brand
The Strong Shall Live
The Trail to Crazy Man
Valley of the Sun
War Party
West from Singapore
West of Dodge
With These Hands
Yondering
SACKETT TITLES
Sackett’s Land
To the Far Blue Mountains
The Warrior’s Path
Jubal Sackett
Ride the River
The Daybreakers
Sackett
Lando
Mojave Crossing
Mustang Man
The Lonely Men
Galloway
Treasure Mountain
Lonely on the Mountain
Ride the Dark Trail
The Sackett Brand
The Sky-Liners
THE HOPALONG CASSIDY NOVELS
The Riders of the High Rock
The Rustlers of West Fork
The Trail to Seven Pines
Trouble Shooter
NONFICTION
Education of a Wandering Man
Frontier
The Sackett Companion: A Personal Guide to the Sackett Novels
A Trail of Memories: The Quotations of Louis L’Amour, compiled by Angelique L’Amour
POETRY
Smoke from This Altar
MATAGORDA
A Bantam Book / September 2004
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam edition published November 1967
New Bantam edition published June 1971
Bantam reissue published December 1994
Thorndike Press hardcover edition published June 1999
Bantam reissue / February 2002
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1958, 1986 by Louis & Katherine L’Amour Trust
Excerpt from Law of the Desert Born Text copyright © 2013 by Beau L’Amour; Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Louis L’Amour Enterprises, Inc.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except
where permitted by law. For information address:
Bantam Books New York, New York.
Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Please visit our website at www.bantamdell.com
eISBN: 978-0-553-89946-7
v3.0_r1
Praise for
Law of the Desert Born
“This actually may be the story’s ideal form.… The result is stunning and richly textured.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Yeates’ artwork is incredible.”
—GraphicNovelReporter.com
“Law of the Desert Born is a fantastic example of how relevant the Western can be.”
—Suvudu.com
“The richer plot and characters from L’Amour’s son Beau and collaborator Kathy Nolan add appeal and value in addition to the finely crafted visuals.”
—Library Journal
“The novel’s illustrations add a new dimension to an already gripping tale.”
—American Cowboy
“An amazing level of detail and ambience that breathes new life into Louis L’Amour’s already stunning story.”
—Cowboys & Indians
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