Free Borden Chantry by Louis L’Amour Page B

heart pounding, he crossed toward the barn. His toe kicked a small pebble and it rattled against others. He swore mentally, reached the corner of the barn and edged along toward the door.
    It stood open…only a few inches.
    He drew a long breath, felt his mouth go dry and his heart pounding in slow, measured beats, and then he stepped through into the darkness.
    He felt the blow coming before it hit him. He started to turn, and then something smashed down on his skull and he felt himself falling…falling…falling.…

Chapter 7
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    H E GRABBED OUT wildly, seizing upon a boot, but the foot kicked free and he heard running steps. He yelled out, started to rise, then fell back into the straw.
    He must have passed out then because the next he knew, several people were standing over him and Prissy was holding his head.
    Time Reardon was there, Lang Adams and Alvarez from the Mexican café.
    â€œI hear you yell, señor,” Alvarez said. “I grab a gun. I come to help, but there is nobody, only you on the ground.”
    He got up shakily, his skull buzzing. “Thanks, I’ll be all right.”
    Prissy stood back, and as he raised his eyes, Borden could see somebody…Hyatt, undoubtedly…standing in the door of his house, light streaming past him, looking to see what the confusion was about.
    â€œI got slugged,” he explained. “Somebody was in the barn.”
    â€œDid you see him?” Reardon demanded. “Did you get a look at him?”
    â€œNo…no, I didn’t. I was lucky not to get killed.”
    â€œYou’ve got a thick skull,” Lang said, grimly. “Or you would be dead. Bord, if you’re going to keep on with this, you should have a deputy. You could get yourself killed.”
    â€œI…I’ll make out.” He shook his head but it buzzed. “I’m all right. I’ll just go along home.”
    â€œYou’d better wake up Doc Terwilliger,” Lang advised. “You’ve got a nasty cut on your skull.”
    â€œBess will take care of it. She’s had experience.” Somebody handed him his hat and he checked his gun. Still in its holster. “You all go along home now. I’ll be all right.”
    Lang hesitated. “Bord? If I can help…?”
    â€œThanks, Lang. I’ll be all right.”
    When they had gone he turned to the Mexican, who was the last to leave. “Alvarez?”
    He turned. “Sí?”
    â€œWere you the first one here?”
    â€œSí…I think so, señor.”
    â€œDid you see anything? Anybody?”
    â€œI…think…maybe. Somebody was in the barn, I think. I hear somebody, and there was a light…then a curse. Curses…then somebody ran.
    â€œSeñor?” Alvarez looked up at him. “I think there were
two
people in there. I hear curses, then like a scramble and I am coming running, and something moved…very quick…and was gone.”
    â€œYou didn’t get a look at him…or her?”
    â€œNo, señor.”
    â€œThanks, Alvarez. You got out there mighty fast.”
    â€œSí…you are the law, señor, and the law is good to have. There are savages among us, señor. Without the law there is no freedom, there is no safety. I am for the law, señor.”
    When he had gone Borden Chantry walked into the barn, whose door now stood wide ajar. All was very still. He felt along the wall to where he knew a lantern had hung…It was still there.
    He raised the globe and, striking a match, lit the lantern. For a moment he just looked around. The old stable had that musty smell of a place kept closed, mingled with the smell of hay and the leftover smell of harness now gone.
    He walked slowly around, glancing into the stalls, at the ladder to the loft, and the dirt floor at its foot. He stopped by the ladder…nothing. He looked up into the black square of the trapdoor and decided against it.
    At the