Gunsmoke and Trail Dust

by Bliss Lomax

  “I talked with Mrs. Caney. She says they heard the shots and she sent Jeb out to look for his father. He found him about half a mile from the house, just about where Jerusalem Creek begins swinging west. He was working along the creek this afternoon, burning off some locoweed, Mrs. Caney told me.”

  “When did all this happen?” Ringe asked.

  “Just before sundown.”

  The old cowman shook his head grimly. “I can’t say I’m surprised! I figured Webb would get him!”

  “So did I,” Harvey agreed. “But that’s not what Shad says. He claims a dozen shots were fired at him by someone hiding in the creek bottom. He claims he got a fairly good look at the man and it wasn’t Webb Nichols.”

  “I don’t believe it!” the big John snorted. “Who does he say it was?”

  “He isn’t accusing anyone definitely; he’s too smart for that. But he thinks it was you, Clay.”

  “The lying rat!” the old cowman burst out with an angry roar. “I see through his rotten game! He damned well knows it was Nichols, but he sees a chance to throw suspicion on you, Clay, and stir up trouble for me and the Association, figuring he can settle his score with Webb a little later!”

  Clay took it easily. “It’s ridiculous, saying I shot him,” he declared unexcitedly. “I can account for every minute of my time this afternoon. I was talking to you and Virgil, Harvey, about sunset. I couldn’t have been on Jerusalem Creek.”

  “Of course you couldn’t. I think Mr. Ringe has called the turn. Virgil and I can give you a perfect alibi; but I suppose there’ll be those who’ll claim we’re lined up with you and refuse to believe we’re telling the truth.”

  “When Caney says the man who got him had to fire a dozen shots to drop him, he’s giving Clay all the alibi he needs!” Ringe growled. “This man is a dead shot, Harvey; he might miss a target the first time, but not twice in a row!” He focused his irate eyes on Clay. “You got nothing to worry about. I’ll cram this nonsense down Caney’s gullet!”

  “Where was he hit, Harvey?” Clay asked.

  “In the chest. The bullet couldn’t have touched a lung or he would have been bleeding more. You can depend on it that Frank Dufors will try to build this up into something. When Virgil told you Dufors would do you dirt if he got the chance, he couldn’t have had this in mind, but it’s the sort of thing he meant.”

  “You know your rights,” the big man of the Santa Bonita told Clay. “Dufors doesn’t want to try to question you or take you into custody unless Caney makes a charge. I don’t believe Caney will go that far, he’ll be satisfied to throw suspicion on you and hope that feeling against you will boil over. Harvey, will you tell me what reason Caney says Clay had for going after him?”

  “I asked Mrs. Caney that very question,” Harvey answered. “She said she didn’t know, but young Jeb told me his father made you back down, Clay, the afternoon you rode over there with the boy’s rifle and that was why you had it in for the old man.”

  The lie was so preposterous that Clay was hard put to express his disgust. “That’s so far from the truth that a blind man could see the whole thing is a frame-up. If there was any backing down that afternoon, Caney did it. As I reported to you, John, I told him I’d accept his story that Jeb shot the cow by mistake, but if any more Diamond R cows were beefed, it wouldn’t be by mistake and that we’d do something about it. I’m not going to say any more. I’ll catch up a horse and go back with you, Harvey. Virgil ought to be there by the time we get down.”

  They flashed out of the yard. Thirty minutes later they were on the Willow Creek road. Another mile brought them to the house.

  “Virgil’s back,” Harvey announced. “That’s his horse at the rail.”

  Virgil was in the kitchen with Harvey’s mother. He heard them ride in and stepped out to meet them.

  “You can ease up,” he said. “Everythin’ as quiet as a graveyard over there.”

  He told them he had talked with Webb but hadn’t found any reason for saying anything to Eudora.

  “I figgered it was better not to get her worked up by tellin’ her Shad had been bushwhacked.”

  “She must know about it,” Harvey demurred.

  “I don’t know how,” said Virgil. “The Caneys didn’t pass that way goin’ to town. The only way the news could have got to the ranch was for Webb to have brought it. You can be dang shore if he was mixed up in it he wouldn’t be sayin’ anythin’ to her about it.”

  Clay found his point well taken. “What did Nichols have to say?”

  “I didn’t mention the shootin’ till we’d talked for a few minutes. I figgered he might let somethin’ slip, but he didn’t. Even after I had spilled the beans he didn’t open up much. Said that what happened to Shad Caney was no concern of his.”

  “Did you tell him that Caney is trying to pin the shooting on me?” Clay asked.

  Virgil shook his head emphatically. “When you’re tryin’ to draw a man out you don’t tell him all you know. I pointed out to Webb that a lot of folks was bound to figger that he got Shad.”

  “What was his answer to that?”

  “He said he’d be able to take care of himself.”

  “Virgil, you know Webb Nichols pretty well. I’m not going to ask you to commit yourself one way or the other on whether he did or didn’t shoot Caney. But if you feel free to do it, I’d like to have you tell me how he acted to you.”

  “Wal, he’s got somethin’ on his mind, I’d say. He’s never been so closemouthed with me before.”

  Harvey yanked off his saddle and flopped it on the rail with an angry thud.

  “What’s the use of trying to straddle the fence, Virgil? Webb went out to get Caney; you know it as well as I do!”

  “If he did, I reckon he had his reasons,” was Virgil’s blunt answer. “If Shad dies, it’ll be murder. I don’t want to see you stuck with it, Roberts, but I’m not goin’ to say anythin’ that can be used against Webb.”

  “That’s all right with me,” Clay said thinly. “I’m not interested in pinning it on Nichols.” His face had whipped hard and flat. “Just don’t try to give him a clean bill of health at my expense, Virgil!”

  Chapter Twelve

  UGLY RUMORS

  THOUGH EUDORA WENT OVER for breakfast at the usual time, she found that Webb and Verne had already eaten and left the house. Mrs. Nichols had less to say than usual. Eudora was conscious of it, and she felt that young Moroni and Elly watched her covertly.

  She told herself that her friendship with Clay was at the bottom of it. The explanation satisfied her, and she thought little about it. Webb and Verne had not been at the table for supper, either. If it was their intention to show their resentment over what she had done by not sitting down to the table with her, it didn’t matter to her.

  It’s childish, and they’ll have to get over it, she thought, in dismissing it from her mind.

  She had only to reach the schoolhouse, however, to be apprised at once of the attempt to slay Shad Caney. The children were babbling excitedly about it; they had heard the news at home and filled it in with details out of their own imaginations. According to their tale Caney had actually accused Clay Roberts of shooting him. They were agreed on the time and place.

  Eudora was beside herself. Her faith in Clay’s innocence did not waver, but she couldn’t deny that he had been in the basin in the late afternoon; that after he left her he would have had ample time to reach Jerusalem Creek before sunset.

  Josie Hume, Virgil’s twelve-year-old daughter, seemed to have more details than the others. Eudora called her inside.

  “Josie, I suppose you heard all this from your father.” And when the child said yes, Eudora questioned her about how Virgil had got his information.

  “He was at Uncle Harvey’s place when Mrs. Caney and Jeb drove by last night, Miss Stoddard. They talked to her, and then Uncle Harvey went up to the Santa Bonita to tell Mr. Roberts. Papa says Mr. Roberts couldn’t have done it, no matter what Mr. Caney
says.”

  “Did he give any reason for saying that?” Eudora asked anxiously.

  “Oh, sure! Papa says Clay Roberts was with him and Uncle Harvey when the sun went down.”

  “They were with him? Where, Josie?”

  “At Uncle Harvey’s ranch.”

  With a deep sigh of relief Eudora sank back in her chair, feeling so weak for a moment she didn’t want to move. What did it matter what Shad Caney claimed if Clay could prove his innocence? she asked herself over and over.

  Somehow, she got through the morning. The children had just been dismissed and were in the yard, when Clay rode up. He could see that Eudora was fully informed about what had happened.

  “I wanted to get down here earlier, but I thought I better wait till noon,” he told her. “There’s no reason to worry on my account.”

  “How can I help it, Clay, even though I know you had nothing to do with it? Josie Hume told me you were with Harvey and her father at the time of the shooting. Will you tell me why Mr. Caney is accusing you?”

  “I don’t know that he is,” Clay told her. “As I get it, he says he thinks I’m the man he saw in the brush along the creek. That’s stopping some distance short of actually accusing me.”

  Eudora was deeply puzzled until he explained what he believed was Caney’s purpose. He gazed at her soberly for a moment.

  “Eudora, you must know who fired those shots. Surely, there can’t be any doubt in your mind.”

  “I don’t suppose there is,” she acknowledged, after some hesitation. “But if I said anything it would be based on what I think, not on what I know.”

  She knew she was protecting Webb and not being completely honest with Clay. She excused it by telling herself that as long as his innocence could be easily proved he could not ask her to turn against Elly’s father. Nevertheless, Webb’s absence from the ranch at suppertime and the fact that when she had walked past the corral last evening the air was heavy with the pungent smell of horse sweat now had a sinister significance.

  “Maybe it’s just as well if you don’t say anything,” Clay observed thoughtfully. “Have I got your word for it, Eudora, that no one has threatened you against talking?”

  “Positively! Mr. Nichols objected to your coming to the ranch. We had some words about it; but I swear to you, Clay, that I knew nothing about the shooting until I reached school this morning.”

  She told him what had passed between Webb and her.

  “I’m glad he didn’t say anything about ruling me off the road,” said Clay, his tone bitingly sarcastic. “This trouble with Caney is going to make Nichols doubly determined to have me keep my distance. I don’t have to hold back with you, Eudora; I believe Nichols shot Caney. He may not have been alone, either.”

  “Verne?” she gasped, not trying to dissemble her amazement.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. Caney says he saw only one man. He may be lying about that, but his tale that a dozen shots were fired at him sounds like the truth. I don’t see any reason why he should have invented it. If a dozen shots were slapped at him, someone was doing some wild shooting, and that sounds like some inexperienced kid like Verne. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of our spending the day up on the Ledge now.”

  “I don’t know,” she murmured uncertainly, speaking to herself as much as to him. “I suppose Uncle Dan and Aunt Jude are worried sick about me. I can write them this afternoon and send the letter over to the Humes; I guess they will find some way of sending it into town tomorrow. I’m so weary of all this fighting that I’d do most anything to get away from it for a few hours. If you’ll bring a horse that won’t throw me, Clay, we’ll ride up in the timber tomorrow. I’ll be ready whenever you say.”

  He was pleased, and he did not try to conceal it. “You’ll see me coming about nine o’clock. I’ll have the cook at the ranch fix up a picnic lunch for us. If you want to write your letter now, I’ll take it over to Harvey. I thought I’d ride that way and go up through White Pine.”

  “That’ll be better than waiting until this afternoon, if you’re sure I’m not putting you out. It will take me only a few minutes to write a note.”

  “You needn’t hurry,” he told her. “I’ll just wait out here at the gate.”

  Eudora was still inside, when Clay noticed a horseman jogging toward him from the direction of Mescal. He found nothing familiar about the rider, and it was not until the latter was within a few yards of him that he saw it was Frank Dufors.

  Dufors jerked a frosty nod and pulled up his horse.

  “Findin’ you down here will save me some ridin’,” he announced. “I want to ask you some questions, Roberts.”

  “Go ahead,” Clay told him, his tone vaguely challenging. He was in no doubt as to what was coming. “Evidently Caney hasn’t got around to openly accusing me, or you’d be flashing a warrant and putting me under arrest.”

  Dufors was angry instantly. “If that’s your idea of beatin’ me to the punch, forget it!” he snapped. “I don’t propose to let the fact that Caney can’t make a positive identification of the party who tried to murder him stop me from gittin’ to the bottom of this business. There’s always some evidence that can be dug up. When I git it, there’ll be an arrest, I promise you!”

  “That’s very commendable, Frank—seeing you bestirring yourself this way,” Clay remarked, with maddening equanimity. “I figured you wouldn’t let any grass grow under your feet when you learned there was a chance to tie this thing on me. But you go ahead.”

  “That’s what I intend to do!” Dufors glared at him with a fierce contempt. “You been ridin’ your high horse too long around here! Don’t make the mistake of thinkin’ that just ’cause most folks ain’t got no use for Caney they’re goin’ to let this thing slide! I’m goin’ to have a look around at the scene of the shootin’, and if I find anythin’, I’ll know how to handle it!”

  “You mean you’ll know how to make the most of it,” Clay countered. “I’m afraid you’re playing a losing hand, Frank.” His tone was deliberately patronizing. “You’ve waited a little too long to succeed in lifting my scalp; the old game of whipping up feeling against the Magdalena Stockmen’s Association is played out. You said something about questioning me. What do you want to know?”

  “You were seen down in the basin late yesterday afternoon. Do you deny it?”

  “No.”

  “Just where were you durin’ the half-hour before sunset?”

  “I was at Harvey Hume’s ranch—talking with him and Virgil.”

  “So that’s the alibi you’ve framed up, is it?” Dufors jeered. “Everybody knows the Humes have been lined up with you right along; nobody’s goin’ to believe what they have to say!”

  “You better try telling that to Virgil and Harvey.”

  For all of his blustering and snarling Dufors was not able to conceal his chagrin at learning that Clay had an alibi.

  “I’ll see ’em durin’ the day!” he growled. “If they’re lookin’ for trouble, they can be accommodated!”

  Clay gave him a pitying smile. He had always considered Frank Dufors an empty-headed windbag and he had never been as sure of it as now. “You’re talking big, Frank,” he said thinly. “Virgil and Harvey have got your number, and you know it. You won’t do much blowing off to them. But you’ve got some more questions for me. Go ahead with them.”

  Dufors’s eyes narrowed murderously. He knew he was being toyed with, and it was more than he could stand. His hand dropped to his gun, threateningly. “Don’t crowd me too hard!” he ground out.

  Clay watched him with a deceiving carelessness; actually, Dufors had his complete attention now. “You better think it over before you draw on me,” he said softly. “You know I never bluff with a gun, Frank.”

  Dufors was sorely tempted, but a flash of sense stayed him. The moment passed, however, and Eudora came hurrying toward them. Dufors’s hand fell away from his gun and the muscles in Clay’s shoulders relaxe
d.

  Eudora was not deceived. In the yard, the children had stopped their play and were staring openmouthed at the two men. It was all the confirmation she needed.

  “What is it, Clay?” she asked, her throat tight, her eyes focused sharply on the deputy sheriff.

  “Nothing important,” Clay replied. “Mr. Dufors was just asking me what I know about the shooting.”

  Dufors was willing enough to let it go at that.

  “Your uncle asked me to bring a letter out to you,” Miss Stoddard,” he informed Eudora. “The old couple are a little worried about you.”

  He produced the letter and handed it to her.

  “It was kind of you to bother,” she said.

  Dufors nodded. “Glad to be able to do you a favor. I told Dan he and the missus had no reason to be alarmed. I’ll see him when I git back and tell him I found you all right.”

  He raised a hand to his hat and rode on without a word to Roberts.

  Eudora turned anxiously to the letter as soon as they were alone. “Clay—that man was at the point of drawing his gun on you!”

  “No, he just thought he was, Eudora. It’s never been Dufors’s policy to toe the line with anyone when the chances were even. That’s why he had to leave Texas. He knows that I know it, and if you went deep enough, I guess you’d find that’s the real reason for his bile against me. The roof fell in on him when I told him I was with Virgil and Harvey last evening.”

  “Clay, that man is dangerous, I don’t care what you say!” Eudora insisted. “Please don’t take him so lightly. It was just your great good fortune that you happened to turn back last evening to see Harvey.”

  To see her so concerned on his account, so near and so lovely, set his pulse to pounding. The hardness left his mouth and he smiled at her fondly.

  “Don’t be afraid for me; I’ll be careful,” he said, a strange huskiness in his voice. “Dufors is going over to Jerusalem Creek. He won’t find anything to fasten on me. He’ll talk loud for a few days, and that’ll be the end of it. Do you want to read the letter he brought before I go? You may want to add something to yours.”