Snake Vengeance

by Philip Harbottle

  ‘Look here, Ashfield, what kind of tale are you trying to hand me?’ Crawford demanded. ‘This girl is clearly unharmed, and you — ’

  ‘Miss King has recovered in the normal way of things,’ Barnes said, coming forward. ‘Ashfield spoke the truth about her, Sheriff. I can vouch for that.’

  ‘And my accusation stands,’ Larry said. ‘I’m ready when you are, Sheriff. Stand aside, Val — I’m going through with this.’ He signalled to King to draw the girl away. The old man did so.

  Within a few moments all the tables in the centre of the floor had been cleared, and Doc Barnes was called upon to conduct the proceedings. Knowing the meaning of ‘shooting it out,’ he was meticulously exact. Larry and Crawford each drew their left guns and tossed them to one side. The right ones they left in the holsters.

  ‘You will each take twelve paces, keeping time with my counting,’ Barnes instructed. ‘On the count of twelve you will draw, turn, and shoot. Ready?’

  Both men nodded, and Barnes began counting.

  ‘One, two, three, four — ’

  ‘ Look out !’ Val screamed.

  Larry swung, drew, and fired. A bullet whined past his ear and splintered a back-bar mirror. Crawford, who had turned eight paces too soon, stood rocking on his feet, red staining his shirt over the heart. He lurched, his smoking gun dropping from his fingers; then he crashed face down into the sawdust.

  Silence. Larry stood with cordite fumes curling round his nostrils. Then a bearded rancher spoke up.

  ‘I reckon that critter died like he lived — trying a double-cross!’

  Larry holstered his gun and went across to the fallen man. He stooped to be certain that his aim had been true — then he glanced up sharply as the rancher shouted a warning. Just in time he saw Hank, his face malevolent, level his gun. Larry’s hand blurred down and up again. A split second before the vengeful gunhawk could fire, a bullet struck him clean in the forehead. He gave a shriek, clapped his hands to his face, then dropped, squirming, on to the table immediately in front of him. In a second or two his writhing ceased, and he slid to the floor — dead.

  ‘Seems there’s been a bit of cleaning up around here,’ King commented. ‘I reckon the air oughta smell a lot sweeter for it.’

  ‘Get these two guys out of here,’ Larry ordered briefly, glancing at the menfolk. ‘I’ve something to say to you all afterwards.’

  The assembly stirred. The two bodies were dragged away, to be buried after the minimum of legal formalities had been performed; then Larry stood on a chair and surveyed the crowded saloon.

  ‘Listen, folks, I know I’m a stranger among you, and an Englishman at that — but I think I’ve managed to fit in pretty well with your ways, considering how I started.’

  ‘You sure have, feller. Don’t seem like the same guy to me.’

  ‘I’m staying on here,’ Larry continued. ‘I’m going to fight to the end for the inheritance I came to claim — the inheritance Makin handed over, by legal juggling, to one Simon Galt. We all know that Makin, Crawford, and Hank — who incidentally tried to burn me alive a few days ago — were all crooked. Between them they ran Buzzard’s Bend pretty much as they saw fit, Crawford using his gun and hiding behind a badge — and the other his legal tricks. Hank obeyed either as it suited him. I contend that no town can thrive on those sorts of methods. A sheriff’s got to be straight — right?’

  ‘Yeah! Sure thing!’

  ‘We’d have kicked him out before only there didn’t seem t’be a way of doin’ it.’

  ‘Right now,’ Larry concluded, ‘there is no sheriff, and I’m asking you to put me in the job. I promise you that I’ll clean this town of all corruption and double-dealing even if I get filled with lead doing it.’

  There was a surprised silence for a moment, and Mayor Reuben was quick to speak in the midst of it.

  ‘I don’t know that we like the idea of a foreigner hustling in on us, Ashfield — ’

  ‘ Who doesn’t?’ somebody demanded aggressively. ‘We’re not havin’ any more of your bootlicking sheriffs, Mayor! Most folk around here know you’re as big a two-timer as the guys who’ve been rubbed out.’

  The mayor flushed angrily, but he did not pursue the subject. It was not safe. He had too few important people to support him.

  ‘I reckon Larry Ashfield’s the best man we could get for sheriff,’ King said. ‘I’ve seen him in action. He’s got the resource, and the energy — and he isn’t afraid to say what he thinks. I propose him as sheriff. Anybody second it?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ the bearded rancher said quickly, raising his hand.

  ‘In favour?’ King cried, looking about him — and without bothering to count he could see that nine-tenths of the people present raised their hands.

  ‘No need for papers or ballots,’ King said. ‘OK, Larry, you’re elected. Swear him in, Mayor.’

  The mayor had no alternative, and went through the brief ceremony on the spot, whilst one of the men recovered the star badge from Crawford’s shirt. It finished up on Larry’s own breast. Then Larry called for volunteers for deputies, and several men stepped forward, including the bearded rancher. When the ceremony and appointments were over, he turned to the mayor.

  ‘Now, Mayor, you can hand over the keys to the sheriffs office, and I’ll do the rest. I’ll take up my duties in the morning, but I’ve a special job to do first.’

  Mayor Reuben looked surprised. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I’m using my authority as sheriff to examine Cliff Makin’s office. As an ordinary townsman I couldn’t do it — but I can now.’

  The mayor shrugged, then gave a glance about him. Several of the men within earshot began moving, and quietly left the saloon. Larry didn’t notice them — but King did, and Val. They exchanged looks.

  ‘Trouble coming,’ King murmured, ‘but I reckon it can’t be any worse than what we’ve had so far.’

  The mayor gave instructions for the office keys to be taken from Crawford’s distant body, lying across a table in a corner. They were handed to Larry, who pocketed them, after noticing that one of them was a master key for opening any door.

  ‘Thanks,’ Larry said briefly. ‘Be seeing you again, Mayor, in the morning, when I’ll take up the matter of some needed alterations in this town.’

  He turned aside, joined King and Val, and together they left the saloon. On the boardwalk King gave an enquiring glance.

  ‘You aiming to go through Makin’s office right now, son?’

  ‘Definitely — sooner the better. I’d like you to help me.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ King assented. ‘But be on the look-out for trouble, Larry. Several of Makin’s and Crawford’s boys left the Lucky Dollar ahead of us when they heard what you were planning to do. I guess Makin’s office must be loaded with incriminating evidence, and they may try to stop you.’

  ‘Gunhawks don’t worry me,’ Larry said briefly. ‘We’re both of us armed — but I guess for safety’s sake Val had better ride home again.’

  ‘Not if I know it,’ Val broke in. ‘I’m only just starting to enjoy myself again. I’m not leaving.’

  ‘OK, then let’s move,’ Larry said. ‘The master key on this ring should fit Makin’s office.’

  They set off along the boardwalk. The kerosene lights were not particularly bright, so the trio could make good use of the shadows. Knowing that the gang that had worked with Crawford was still at large, they were prepared for any eventuality — but nothing happened, and they gained Makin’s office safely.

  After a little wrangling with the master key, Larry led the way into the dead lawyer’s office, bolting the door behind him.

  The place smelled of musty deeds and stale tobacco fumes. Familiar with the layout from his previous visit, Larry went over to the safe in the corner, and struck a lucifer with which to examine it. It was by no means a modern one, but none the less impregnable for all that.

  ‘Take dynamite to force that,’ King said worriedly; then he moved swiftly an
d drew down the shade over the window. It would not entirely stop light, but at least it might render it less noticeable to any watchers outside.

  ‘We can’t be sure that the evidence you’re wanting is in the safe,’ Val said. ‘Let’s try everything else first; then, if all else fails, we can bring dynamite or something and blow the safe open.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Larry agreed. ‘These filing cabinets are easy enough to work on. Might be something under the file of ‘Ashfield’ — unless Crawford saw to it that it was removed.’

  He took out his penknife, opened the strongest blade, and then wedged it in the topmost filing drawer. He forced back the catch, and the drawer opened. He did the same with the remaining three drawers — then, working by the light of the carefully shielded oil-lamp, they began a search.

  They found stacks of correspondence and deeds of little interest. In the ‘Ashfield’ file there were only normal business letters referring to cattle deals and ranch matters generally, but in the invoices — a file to itself — Val came across various items connected with the Double-L that aroused her suspicions.

  ‘These invoices show that Simon Galt is using the Double-L as a kind of depot for cattle,’ she said as the men joined her in examining the documents. ‘None of the cattle has the Double-L brand, as these bills show.’

  To Larry, unfamiliar with ranch routine, the bills meant little, but King snapped his fingers.

  ‘Yeah, I get it!’ he exclaimed. ‘These are duplicate consignment notes of cattle sold through the Double-L, Makin having been the lawyer acting. And the cattle were probably stolen, since no Double-L brand is mentioned. Several thousand head!’

  ‘In other words,’ Val mused, ‘these consignment notes point to the Double-L being used as a kind of temporary corral for rustled cattle?’

  ‘It certainly does,’ King agreed. ‘I expect Crawford knew all about it, but did nothing, being on a kickback. It’s up to you now, son.’

  Larry gave a grim nod and put the documents in his pocket. ‘First chance I get, I’ll let the authorities in Prescott see these; they’ll know how to act … but we still haven’t found anything to prove that Simon Galt has no right to the Double-L.’

  Larry and Val resumed searching the files, whilst King tackled the roll-top desk. Forcing open the catch, he pushed up the front and began searching through the litter of papers and drawers.

  Time passed. Outside all seemed quiet, except for one occasion when it sounded as though somebody bumped against the outer office door, but a quick investigation had not revealed anybody in the darkness outside.

  ‘Look at this!’ King exclaimed suddenly, when the search was about exhausted. He had just finished rooting through the wall cupboard and had brought to light a bundle of dynamite sticks tied round with a fuse.

  ‘Mighty convenient,’ Larry said, grinning, ‘but I wonder why Makin needed to keep dynamite in his office?’

  ‘Must have been something to do with the mine, mebbe,’ King replied. ‘All that matters now is that we can use it on that safe! We’re sure getting no results anywhere else.’

  So the job of dealing with the safe began. Larry put half of the sticks inside his shirt for possible future use, then the remaining sticks were carefully arranged round the lock and packed in with heavy law-books and cushions, the fuse trailing to the far end of the office.

  ‘We’ll get outside while we blow it,’ Larry murmured, lighting the fuse. ‘Come on!’

  The fuse spluttered, and he immediately dived for the door and wrenched it open, pushing Val out in front of him as King followed. They closed the door and then moved away to a distance. The streets appeared deserted; the Lucky Dollar had closed, and most of the townsfolk were home and asleep. The kerosene lights had been extinguished, and Buzzard’s Bend had its usual after-midnight mausoleum appearance.

  Then the dynamite exploded. The packing around it muffled the sound considerably, but to the three expecting it, it was shatteringly loud. They glanced about them anxiously — but nothing happened. They hurried back into the office to find part of it smoking. Furniture had been overturned, the windows had been blown out and the safe itself had its door half-off.

  Quickly, Larry dragged the contents of the safe on to the floor. King and Val studied the deeds and papers as they came into view — using lucifers since the oil-lamp had been buried in the debris. They gave no further thought to precautions concerning light. From the look of things no person was awake in the entire town.

  But in this they were wrong. The former supporters of Makin and Crawford were anything but asleep. Since the moment the trio had left the Lucky Dollar, their movements had been constantly watched. And when watching was no longer possible the spies had listened at the door of the office. The bump one of them had given the door had nearly revealed their presence, but they had quickly withdrawn after the incident and escaped detection.

  Now they were crouching outside the shattered office window, listening intently to the voices floating out to them.

  ‘I’ve found something!’ Val’s voice was excited. ‘Looks like your uncle’s will, Larry!’

  ‘This is it!’ Larry exclaimed. ‘We don’t need any more evidence! Once the proper authorities see this, we’ll soon get some action. And I’ll get some myself, too. Simon Galt won’t have a leg to stand on in face of this. Look — it repeats the very thing my uncle told me in his letter — that the ranch and gold mine should belong to me when he died. Here’s his signature — and Cliff Makin’s as the witness and lawyer.’

  ‘What about your uncle’s debts to Galt,’ King asked. ‘Was Makin right in paying things off the way he did?’

  ‘Never!’ Larry snapped. ‘ I should have been consulted first, and anyway personal debts die with the man, unless he’s the head of a company that was involved. No, the ranch and mine rightfully belong to me.’

  ‘I was just wondering,’ King said, still musing. ‘It seems strange that Makin ever kept that will by him, in face of what he did. You’d have thought he’d have destroyed it.’

  ‘Makin was no fool,’ Larry answered slowly. ‘He may have kept it against the day when things got so tough he couldn’t double-cross any more; then he could have ‘found’ the will unexpectedly, and straightened himself out by legal twisting. No smart lawyer ever destroys anything valuable. Anyway, be that as it may, I’m going to act tomorrow. Now let’s get back to the spread … ’

  Outside the office the gathered men quickly glided away, their own plans already made to deal with the situation.

  7. Death In The Night

  Towards two in the morning a couple of horsemen rode up almost silently to the Bar-6, dismounted from their horses, and left them tied to the post of the main gate. They moved like shadows across the yard, making — as they imagined — scarcely any sound. As far as human hearing was concerned, perhaps — but other ears than human were pricked up in the gloom and nostrils were twitching curiously.

  ‘I reckon our best chance is to break in by a side window,’ one of the men murmured. ‘Just as long as we don’t get into one of the bedrooms.’

  ‘The whole thing’s too damned risky, if you ask me,’ the other man whispered. ‘We should have done as I said: attacked them on the way home, and got that will. Right now we don’t even know where the durned thing is.’

  ‘It’s bound to be in their safe, and I make my living opening safes. Quit worrying, will yuh? We couldn’t attack them on the way back; they’d have heard us approaching, and we’d have risked getting lead in our bellies. You saw Ashfield’s gun in action in the saloon … Say, look — our luck’s in. There’s a window open.’

  ‘Sure it’s not a bedroom?’

  ‘I reckon not. I figure it belongs to the living room, going from the shape of this ranch house. Soon find out.’

  On reaching the window, the taller man cautiously thrust up the sash. He muscled himself up to the sill and peered between the curtains. His guess that it was the living room was correct. He slid over the
sill into the gloom beyond, his gun at the ready.

  After a moment or two his companion slid in beside him. They could hear no sounds in the ranch house.

  ‘This might be some kind of trap,’ he breathed. ‘Seems kinda queer, leavin’ the window conveniently open.’

  ‘Stop bellyaching, will yuh? Probably just for fresh air. Plenty people do it round here.’

  He had guessed correctly. Larry, Val, and her father had had no thoughts of dirty work going on at their own ranch during the night.

  After some awkward fumbling around, both men came upon the safe in a corner by the bureau. The taller one grinned in the gloom as he looked at it.

  ‘Just my line,’ he murmured. ‘Old type with a three-figure combination. Now shut up while I listen to it play some sweet music.’

  He knelt beside it, then began delicately twisting the combination knob. He heard the first click, then the second — and after a long interval the third. Gripping the bar-shaped handle, he dragged the heavy door open and peered at the vague whiteness of papers inside.

  ‘I’ve gotta risk a lucifer,’ he murmured, and he held it well within the safe once the flame was scratched into being. He had no need to search far: the will of Brian Ashfield was on the top of the pile, just as King had put it there before retiring.

  ‘Found it yet?’ the second man asked nervously.

  ‘Sure thing. Let’s get outa here.’

  The tall one closed the door up again, twisted the knob, and then moved to the window after his companion, doubling up the will into his hip pocket. He followed his companion into the yard — then both of them froze at the sound of deep growling.

  ‘Hell!’ the smaller one gasped. ‘A couple of dad-blamed Alsatians! Right in front of us … ’

  Instantly his hand flew to his gun, but at the identical moment the Alsatians hurtled out of the dark, each one singling out a man. The two punchers went down on their backs, shouting and struggling desperately as the vicious, slavering jaws bit at them, tearing their shirts, trying to reach their throats.