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He got back onto the horse and started coming around. Nice and slow. Nothing to get excited about. He sped up the last two hundred yards. By the time he rode by the man he was looking for, the mare was going pretty fast. He caught the man in the back of the neck with the butt of the Spencer as he rode by.
He went down hard. That was how Glen had hoped it would go. The only worry he had now was whether or not the fellow would wake up at all. Well, it wasn't a big worry. After all, there were nineteen more to choose from.
With the big man slung across the back of the horse, he swung his leg over the saddle and started off. The chances of being caught were slim, but they weren't zero. Finding someplace private to do this would make things that much safer.
A half-hour later he'd found a convenient box-canyon. Nobody would bother him, not for a little while. He pulled the fellow down, checked his pockets. Took the pistol on the man's belt from its holster. No reason to risk anything.
He'd promised Catherine, after all.
Then he set about trying to wake the fellow up. A rough shake did it. He was still woozy from the hit, which was bleeding a little.
Glen rapped on the man's hand. "You feel that?"
"Sure," came the response. "What the hell happened? Who are you?"
"You were attacked. Hit you upside the head. It's a miracle you're still alive."
"What? Who attacked—who are you? What happened?"
"Don't worry about that. I think they're goin' after Rod. You know where I can find him?"
The big man blinked, and his eyes seemed to focus. "Oh, it's you."
Glen hit him hard enough to draw blood. "Where's Rod?"
"Fuck you, cowboy."
Glen's hand already hurt where he'd hit the man in the mouth. He'd learned his lesson about using his hands, years ago, but it seemed like some things didn't stick. He hefted the rifle in his hands.
"You'll tell me, sooner or later."
"Fuck you. No I won't. Come back with more
cop friends. Too many of 'em around anyway. Might as well thin out the herd a bit."
The man laughed, sputtering out blood that was still pooling around his lips where Glen had busted him.
Glen hit him again. He used the rifle butt this time, an easy movement that hit hard enough to leave the man's head spinning.
"I don't think you heard me. I need to know where to find Dawson."
"Why? You want to write him a love letter? 'Dear Rod, my woman says you were the best she ever had'."
Glen grit his teeth and thrust the rifle butt into the man's gut, doubling him over. He rolled over in the dirt, clutching at his stomach, but he didn't seem more apt to give Glen the answers he needed. He put the toe of his boot into the man's teeth hard.
"You're going to tell me what I need to know. We can do it easy, or we can do it real easy."
Glen didn't like doing this. It made him a little sick to see the fella on the ground writhing around in agony. But that didn't mean he couldn't deal with it.
Twenty Nine
Catherine didn't like the way he'd been acting since he got back. He wasn't any different towards her. Certainly no worse. But he seemed to be inconsolable. Worse, he didn't seem to be too interested in being consoled. As if he wanted to suffer.
She knew the feeling well enough. She had been sorely tempted by it again after hearing Ada would be away for as long as she had. After each and every time Billy brought a man home. The feeling that she deserved it. That she shouldn't go looking for healing because deep down, she had earned whatever hurt.
Well, she'd learned better. Glen, on the other hand, must not have. He seemed to be ready to keep down the road he was on, getting worse and worse. She tried to remind herself that she'd been without a man for years. Tried to remind herself that it was fine then, it would be fine again, regardless.
But then, she wasn't worried about herself. She wasn't thinking that Glen Riley destroying himself would hurt her. It wouldn't. She'd keep on living, same as she always had. As much as it surprised her to think about after how badly she'd reacted to his arrival, she was worried about Glen because he didn't deserve to hurt that way. No matter what he thought about himself.
