Deadman Canyon by Louis Trimble Page B

Damson was just smart enough to figure that out. He’d deliberately brought Vanner here to help him rob Clay of silver while making it look as though the ore came from Damson’s own mine.
    Either that or Vanner had found the silver first and picked Damson as the man best suited to front for him. It didn’t make much difference which one had the idea first. Clay figured Roy Ponders’ jail was big enough to hold them both.
    He pushed the dun back the way he had come. He rode past the point where he’d first found this trail. A short distance beyond he could see the lantern lights reflecting off the trees again. He was almost back to Damson’s mine. But this time he was coming in from a different direction.
    The trail led around a timbered hill, went over a short rise, and dropped abruptly into the hollow where Damson was working. Clay rode into the circle of lantern light and pulled the dun up short, drawing his gun.
    Damson was standing with his shovel half-raised, a puzzled expression on his face as he squinted toward Clay. The shovel fell out of his hands and he took a backward step.
    “Belden! I thought — ”
    “Your boys told you wrong,” Clay interrupted. “Vanner’s scheme misfired. Sorry to disappoint you, Damson.”
    Damson ran his tongue over his lips. His eyes moved past Clay to the trail Clay had left. The question he wanted to ask lay openly on his heavy face.
    Clay said obligingly, “I found your pack trail.” He glanced at the pile of ore beside Damson. “That looks pretty rich from here. How much do you figure I’m worth — counting what you’ve already turned into money?”
    “It’s mine!” Damson shouted at him. “I found it. By God, you’ll get nothing from me.”
    He made a move toward his gun. “Hold it right there!” Clay ordered sharply. Damson took a stride forward. Clay fired. His bullet hit Damson’s gun and sent it flying off the darkness. Damson dropped to the ground as if he thought the bullet had hit him.
    Clay said with disgust, “Get to your feet. We’re riding to town.”
    Damson got up and walked toward Clay. He held both hands at his sides, his huge fists clenched. Suddenly he lifted his right arm and swung it. Clay saw the chunk of ore Damson held in his striking hand and knew that the big man had pretended fear at Clay’s shot, but had fallen to the ground as a blind. Clay ducked to shield himself from the chunk of ore, but he was too slow. The rock caught his gun arm at the elbow, numbing it. He felt the gun slide from his fingers.
    Damson made a dive for the gun as it struck the ground. Clay left the saddle in a leaping dive that brought him down on Damson’s back.
    Damson straightened up, flinging Clay off. Clay hit the ground and rolled. Damson turned and gave a gusty laugh. He came at Clay with a shoulder-swinging rush. Muscles bulged under his sweat-streaked skin. He moved quickly on his thick, solid legs, his fists clenched into hard boulders of bone and flesh.
    Clay felt a sudden savage pleasure. He measured himself against Damson and he knew that Damson had never stood a better chance of whipping him than now. The long hard day in the saddle and the bruising he had taken during the stampede had honed away the sharp edge of his strength. But still he relished this chance to fight Damson without interference from anyone.
    He set himself as Damson’s bull-like rush picked up speed and power.
    Damson reached Clay and swung a heavy right first. Clay side-stepped. Too late he saw that Damson’s left fist held a piece of ore as well. Damson threw the rock. Clay flung an arm up over his eyes. The ore struck the arm a glancing blow and went on to slam against his forehead, right between his eyes. For an instant he was blinded. He staggered backward.
    Damson’s gusty laugh came again. He stepped in and rapped a fist over Clay’s heart. He swung from far down and crashed his fist to Clay’s temple.
    Clay went to his knees, blinking against the blinding tears