So the two punchers obeyed. Thereafter, as Val and her father swung into their own saddles, they had to keep riding through the slowly waxing light of dawn until the mountain foothills had been reached. Even then they were forced to ride higher until they reached a ledge with which Val was familiar.
‘Dismount,’ she ordered. ‘Keep me covered, Dad, whilst I bind them up.’
‘Go ahead, gal,’ he responded, his left gun steady on the two men.
The men submitted as the girl got busy on them, twisting a lariat rope in and out of their ankles and carrying up to their wrists behind them, effectively hobbling them.
Satisfied they could not break free, Val looked at her father in the grey light.
‘You have provisions enough to last for a while, Dad, together with bedrolls and other necessities. You stay here until I come and fetch you, when we’re needed for the trial. We can leave these two turkeys nicely trussed up whilst you’re away. Tied as they are now, they won’t be able to try anything on you. Sure you’ll be OK?’
King grinned. ‘I reckon I can manage.’
‘So that’s your game! Keepin’ us here away from the trial — you loco enough to think the sheriff will let you get away with this?’ Harral demanded.
‘Since neither the sheriff nor anyone else has any idea where you are — yes,’ Val answered, with a grim smile. She turned to her father. ‘I’d better get back to town, Dad, to see how things are developing.’
5. Desert Law
Absolutely sure of himself and unaware of what had happened in the night, Sheriff Crawford went to the mayor’s office first thing in the morning and reported his indictment of Larry on a murder charge. The mayor, highly pleased with the news — having watched the standing metamorphosis of Larry from a safe distance — contacted Judge Gascoigne, to whom fell the task of presiding at all trials from cattle-thieving to murder which came within the orbit of Buzzard’s Bend.
But Sheriff Crawford was a little too energetic. He only discovered after he had made all his statements that he couldn’t locate his deputies. He went to their home in the main street, and, gaining no answer, used his authority to break in. Since the two men had lived together, with no other persons present, things were just as they had left them: bedclothes flung back, bedroom window open — and outside the window were the two gun belts with the guns in them.
Sheriff Crawford’s immediate concern was to find the only two men who could back up the statements he had so freely made to the mayor, and subsequently to Judge Gascoigne. So he started searching and making enquiries with a band of his followers to help him — and failed to discover anything. Certainly it never occurred to him that Val and her father — a girl and a wounded man — had had anything to do with the business. All he could think of was some hitherto unknown friend or friends of Larry had stepped into the picture.
The two missing men were not found, and Crawford would have had much more sense to admit to the mayor and Judge Gascoigne that his two vital witnesses were missing; instead he clung to the belief that at the last minute they would turn up, and in consequence preparations for the trial went ahead.
In two more days it opened, and Sheriff Crawford was no nearer finding his witnesses on the morning he took his place in the stuffy courtroom, into which it seemed that every denizen of Buzzard’s Bend had crammed. Judge Gascoigne, round-faced and genial, more like a favourite uncle than a dispenser of law, sat at his desk, his clerk immediately below him, whilst the picked jury of men and women waited for the proceedings to begin.
Morgan Granville, perhaps one shade less of a shyster than Makin had been, opened the proceedings for the prosecution, and Sheriff Crawford sat, sweating and glancing hopefully towards the doors of the courtroom. But the two men he wanted did not appear. He saw Val and her father enter as the trial commenced and take their seats near the front. They were not looking particularly troubled, and they smiled towards Larry as he stood in the railed enclosure doing service as a dock.
Then Morgan Granville, who talked with a powerful adenoidal strain, proceeded to explain to all and sundry how much of a two-cent heel Larry really was.
‘And I contend,’ he finished, after nearly twenty minutes of recounting details, ‘that this man, Larry Ashfield, even though he be the nephew of the late respected Brian Ashfield, came amongst us under false colours. Pretending to be completely ineffectual, he led everybody to believe that he was a weakling, hoping no doubt to curry sympathy thereby, and perhaps cause the unfortunate Cliff Makin to reverse a legal clause, which, in all truth, he could not possibly do. In other words, when that man’ — and Granville pointed accusingly towards Larry — ‘knew that he would not be taking over a ranch and gold mine which he refused to believe was legally no longer his, he turned into a gun-happy madman. He made Cliff Makin his mortal enemy, and finally killed him. Not by a bullet, my friends, not by anything so clean as a knife — but by slamming his head against a wall until his neck was broken. That is the man who, I believe, should be found guilty of the foulest murder.’
Granville mopped his face and sat down. Then he began calling his witnesses. The Indian servant was the first; he explained how Makin had arrived, how high words had developed, how King had been shot through the hand, and how he — the servant — had considered it his duty to fetch the sheriff.
‘In that capacity you acted rightly,’ Judge Gascoigne said, adjusting his steel-rimmed glasses. ‘But would it not have been simpler to rouse the men in the bunkhouse just across the yard? Surely they would have helped?’
‘They not represent law, your honour,’ the Indian answered. ‘Mr King — he always tell me: fetch law if danger threaten. So I did.’
‘Am I to understand, then, that the men in the bunkhouse had no idea of what was going on?’ the judge asked.
‘None,’ the foreman of the Bar-6 said, standing up. ‘It was late, and we had all gone to sleep, your honour.’
The judge nodded and relaxed in his chair. Granville gave the Indian a glance. ‘You can stand down. Call Sheriff Crawford.’
The sheriff got up, mopping his face as he moved to the witness stand. Larry watched him curiously, quite unaware as yet of Val’s strategy, it being against the law for them to converse with a man indicted for murder. Young William Gascoigne, son of the judge, and Larry’s own defence lawyer, watched intently as Crawford took the oath.
‘Now, Sheriff,’ Granville said, considering him, ‘I believe you have positive evidence of the fact that the prisoner murdered Cliff Makin?’
‘Yes,’ Crawford agreed; then uneasily, ‘or at least I — I did have.’
Everybody looked at him sharply. William Gascoigne’s eyes widened in sudden interest. His father adjusted his glasses.
‘Did have?’ Granville repeated. ‘What exactly do you mean, Sheriff? You have the two deputies,’ he paused and glanced at his notes — ‘Lucas and Harral, who, with you, saw the murder committed, haven’t you?’
‘Er — no. They’ve disappeared. In fact, I haven’t seen them since the night of the murder … ’ Crawford turned appealingly to the judge. ‘Your honour, that’s the truth! When I made my statement it was in good faith, and I was relying on my two deputies to corroborate me — as they would have done — but somebody is helping the prisoner, and the two witnesses I want have vanished.’
‘Have you looked for them?’ the judge asked quietly.
‘Everywhere, but I can’t trace them. My suggestion is that this trial be postponed to give me time to try and find them. I’m sure they can’t be far away and — ’
‘That is a waste of the court’s time,’ Gascoigne interrupted. ‘What other witnesses have you?’
‘None,’ Crawford muttered.
William Gascoigne sprang up.
‘Your honour, this case has been brought by the prosecution without due regard to the facts! I can produce witnesses who can positively prove that the whole thing was an accident. Mr King and his daughter both saw what happened. I also have the
statement of my own client and — ’
‘I would remind you, Mr Gascoigne, that I am still the judge,’ his father said deliberately; then his gaze switched to the sheriff. ‘Have you anything further to say, Sheriff, that can help to substantiate the charge you have brought?’
‘How can I have without my witnesses?’ Crawford demanded.
‘But there must be something … ’
Granville spread his hands helplessly, aware that the ground had been cut from under his feet.
The sheriff was silent. A murmur arose in the court, but the judge’s gavel stopped it.
‘Since no witnesses are being presented to support your charge, Sheriff, the case is dismissed. Free the prisoner. And, Sheriff, I would like you to step into my room for a few minutes.’
That settled it. The courtroom became a sudden babel of conversation. Sheriff Crawford, following orders, got up from the witness’s chair and trailed behind Judge Gascoigne to his chamber at the back of the courtroom. Larry, wasting no further time, vaulted the rail in front of him and hurried over to where Val and her father were standing.
‘We did it,’ Val said, kissing Larry in her sudden excitement. ‘My idea worked!’
‘Idea?’ Larry kissed her in response and grinned.
‘I arranged to get those two deputies out of the way,’ Val explained, turning towards the exit. ‘Right now they’re up in the foothills. Dad’s been watching them until I gave him the tip to turn up here as a witness. We never got as far as that, though.’
Behind the trio, as they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Hank — formerly Makin’s henchman — glided away unnoticed, a glint in his pale eyes.
‘You mean those two deputies are trussed up in the mountains?’ Larry asked in surprise.
‘Tied up good,’ King conceded. ‘I’m wondering just what we do with them now, unless you’ve any ideas, Larry?’
He nodded grimly. ‘I’ve got plenty. I’ll ride out with you and explain as we go. Wait for me whilst I reclaim my horse. I’ll have to see Judge Gascoigne and get a release note for it. It’s in the livery stable.’
Val and her father nodded, and went to their own horses, fastened to the tie rack beside the courthouse. It was ten minutes before Larry at last appeared, astride his own mount.
‘Sorry for the delay,’ he apologized. ‘Old Gascoigne was wiping up the floor with Crawford for daring to bring a charge without being sure of substantiating it. I heard it even through the door. OK, let’s go.’
He spurred his horse and followed Val and her father into the busy main street. In a matter of seconds they were through it and had hit the trail for the mountains.
‘Just what have you in mind for Lucas and Harral?’ King asked, as they sped along in the hot morning wind.
‘Desert law,’ Larry answered, his face grim. King glanced at the girl in surprise, then back to Larry’s sternly set face.
‘Surprised you know anything about that, son — being an Englishman, I mean.’
‘I know all about it’ Larry answered. ‘My uncle was once a victim of it, and escaped. He wrote and told me about it. I also came across it again in those books I read from your shelf during my convalescence. In fact there’s quite a lot I’ve learned about the West, after I’d decided to stop around these parts and fight for my rights.’
‘And you think those two deputies of Crawford’s should have the desert law invoked on them?’ Val asked.
‘It’s logical,’ Larry answered. ‘According to the legal interpretation, any man in an official position — and that includes the deputies of a sheriff — who abuses it, either by perjury or any other cause, can be outlawed from the community. True, a committee of townsfolk usually perform the banishing ceremony, but in this case we can do it ourselves. Those two rats were fully prepared to confirm all of Crawford’s lies and get me hanged. Instead, thanks to you two, the situation is reversed. I intend driving those men into the desert. They can then either struggle to the next town, or die. It doesn’t matter which.’
‘Sounds to me,’ King said presently, ‘as though you’ve sure got the hang of this territory very nicely, son.’
‘Kill or be killed seems to be the watchword,’ Larry said. ‘I’m living by it.’
He said no more until the foothills were reached, and eventually the ledge upon which lay the two deputies, still firmly bound, in the midst of the camp King had made. They glared up at Larry as he advanced towards them.
‘So you got free?’ Lucas sneered. ‘Was it legal or did you make a dash fur it?’
‘It was legal — same as what I’ve planned for you.’ Larry turned to Val as she came up. ‘Let me have one of your guns and a belt, Val. I’m without.’
She nodded and handed them over. Larry strapped the belt about his waist and held the gun in his hand.
‘All right, Val — release them,’ he said. ‘I’m covering you.’
She unfastened the ropes, and the two men slowly got to their feet, rubbing their numbed arms and legs. Larry gave them time to recover, and then eyed them fixedly.
‘You two are riding into the desert yonder. You’ll be allowed to ride half-way, then you’ll be given a water bottle each. After that it will be up to you whether you can make the next nearest town on foot — or rot on the way.’
‘You mean desert law?’ Harral demanded, appalled. ‘What are we supposed to have done that — ’
‘You both sold yourselves as liars to Crawford, and that’s enough for me. Further, I’m not taking the chance of your going back into Buzzard’s Bend to start telling your lies about what really happened. It might not affect me — but, on the other hand, it could. So you’re leaving here, and if you ever show your faces anywhere in this territory again, you can be shot dead. That’s part of the law, too. Even, if nobody else does the shooting, I will. Now get on your horses.’
Larry nodded to them as they stood sleepily in the shade of the mountain face, their horses reined to a rock spur. The two men looked at each other helplessly, then at the gun in Larry’s hand. They untied their horses and eased themselves painfully into the saddles, as Larry, Val and King also remounted.
‘Get going,’ Larry ordered. ‘I’m right behind you. If you carry on along this ledge, it should dip further on and lead into a pass. After that there’s the open desert.’ Catching Val’s surprised glance, he added: ‘There were two maps of this district pinned up in the sheriffs office within sight of my cell. I spent a lot of the time in jail studying them. Now it’s coming in useful.’
Larry was right, for the ledge did at length dip down into a declivity and thereafter into a pass. Beyond the pass the whole vast expanse of the desert lay ahead, shimmering and yellow in the blazing midday sun. On the remote horizon a purple smudge denoted the approximate position of Prescott, the nearest town.
Thereafter the party only paused at water holes, during which periods the men said nothing as they sat on their sweating beasts. Then on again, until, after one pause for some food, Larry adjudged the half-way mark had been reached and called a halt.
The whole world seemed to be made up of endless sand, scorching-hot even through riding-boots, and the relentless sun in the cloudless cobalt of the sky.
Larry motioned to the two men to dismount, then pointed to the smudge on the horizon.
‘Somewhere over there lies Prescott. You can make it, or pass out trying. Here’s a water bottle each.’
He handed over two bottles — one of his own and one of King’s, having ascertained that on Val’s horse there was ample water supply in a small drum.
‘Now move,’ Larry ordered, his gun levelled. ‘And keep on going!’
Sullenly the two men turned away, shambling through the sand, wiping their faces with the backs of their hands as they went. Larry stood watching them go for a while, then turned to look at the serious faces of Val and her father.
‘Maybe tough justice,’ he said, ‘but it’s not murder — as they as good as planned that for me. And I’m
pretty sure those two were in the bunch of men who tried to roast me alive on the hillside. At least they’ve a chance of reaching safety. I had none. All right, we’ll take their horses and hit the trail for home. Come on.’
He moved to his horse and then paused, squinting into the shimmering heat waves of the distance. Far away as yet were several approaching riders, and obviously moving fast, to judge from the rate at which they increased in size.
‘Looks like trouble coming, son,’ King said. ‘What do we do, Larry?’
‘Wait and see who it is,’ he answered. ‘Meantime we’d better get down behind this dune in case there’s any shooting. Grab the horses.’
He reined his own horse, and those of the two punchers, and pulled them swiftly into the comparative protection of the dune nearby. King and Val did likewise, then all three of them lay in the blazingly hot sand and peered over the rim, grains blowing irritatingly into their eyes.
They knew that they had almost certainly been seen. The one thing they hoped for was that if there was any shooting they would at least stand a chance with the dune to protect them. Just how the position stood they soon realized as the horsemen came within range and started pumping lead for all they were worth. Along the top of the dune sand spat into the air as bullets plugged it.
‘It’s that skunk, Hank,’ Larry whispered, the hammer cocked on his borrowed gun. ‘Him and about a dozen other guys — and Sheriff Crawford too! The whole damned bunch of ’em must have followed us, somehow.’
‘Maybe I talked too freely back in the courthouse,’ Val said contritely. ‘I was so excited I didn’t quite realize how many people were around us. Oh !’ She started back as a bullet exploded sand not a fraction from her right hand.
The nearness of the shot brought a glint into her eyes as she snatched out her remaining gun and cocked it. She wriggled her way slightly upwards until she could just see over the rim of the dune without revealing herself. The horsemen had drawn up a short distance away, evidently not venturing closer to the dune for fear of drawing too many bullets at their higher angle.
Snake Vengeance Page 7