Law of the Range

by Hank Madison

  They sat by the fire, and Harlan felt contented for the first time in weeks. He felt that this was a dream and hoped that he would never reawaken. Outside lay reality and grief, but the door was shut against them. He realised that the weeks he had spent on the trail had skinned him of his polish. He was just like any one of the tough cowpunchers who rode for his father. He had sunk a little to the level of the rustlers, who were no better than vicious animals. He thought of the previous night, when he had killed six men, and horror started into his eyes. His conscience was heavily loaded now, but he could feel determination aching inside him, and knew that he couldn’t quit this country until he had tried to put down the rustlers.

  When there was no law, a man had only his conscience to guide him, and many violent acts were committed to smooth out the troubles that flared through this wild land. All men carried guns, and very few were reluctant to use them. There were some, like the rustlers, who thought nothing of killing, and some who killed because they had to, and the knowledge worried them for ever after, but it had to be done, and was done.

  Footsteps sounded outside the room, and then the door was opened. Wiley Shaw appeared, and behind the big man stood a tall, thin man who was stoop-shouldered and gaunt-faced. As the newcomer walked into the room, Harlan saw a glinting law star pinned to his coat. This would be the sheriff from Black Creek. The lawman paused on the threshold, and little pools of water formed around his boots. He gazed at Harlan and Mallett, then came forward to where the girl was sitting. Harlan got to his feet and Mallett did likewise.

  “Aggie, I’m pleased to see you, even though it was a long, wet ride. What’s the trouble? I hear you’ve got a wounded man here.”

  “There he is,” the girl said, pointing to the couch.

  The sheriff crossed the room and bent to study the face of the dying man. After a few moments he straightened and came back to the fire. He spread his hands to the blaze, then turned his back to the leaping flames and waited for an introduction to Harlan. The girl introduced them, and the sheriff held out his hand.

  “I’m Joe Lott,” he said after the girl had lapsed into silence. “Glad to know you, Harlan. If I recall correctly, I knew your father when he used to come up with the herds. I reckon he’s got past that now though, huh? But where’s Sim Horn? He always came north with the Cross H herd.”

  Harlan explained in a low voice what had happened, and saw anger show in the lawman’s gaunt cheeks. When he had given a full account of the incidents, the lawman started pacing the room, smacking a fist into his palm. Harlan watched him silently, reliving the dreadful situation into which he had been pushed.

  “Something’s got to be done about this rustling,” Lott finally declared. He came back to the fire and stood between Harlan and the girl. “It wasn’t so bad when Jem Grove ran the show. We didn’t get all the shooting then. The cattlemen paid him for protection and they got it. But since Clant Carter broke away from Grove the whole business has worsened. It ain’t safe for a man to ride the trails alone.” He turned his dark gaze to Harlan. “I’m mighty upset to hear about this,” he said. “I’ll do what I can, but I ain’t got much hope. There are places in this country where an army could hide out for months without fear of detection. I’ve ridden many a mile around here with a posse, trying to get some clue to the whereabouts of the rustlers, but I’ve never had any luck.”

  “I aim to change all that,” Harlan said tightly. “I’m not letting a bunch of killers get the better of me. When I’ve got the rest of my herd safely to Dodge I’m coming back here with my crew to take up the trail. By the time we get through there won’t be any rustlers left in this country.”

  “That’s been tried before,” the sheriff said. “I know what this country is like, and those rustlers. You’ll walk into an ambush when you least expect it, and that’ll be the end of it.”

  “Not me,” Harlan asserted. “I’m gonna make sure that the next time I bring a herd north it’ll go through without trouble.”

  The sheriff turned to the girl. Her face was showing signs of strain, Harlan thought, and he couldn’t wonder at it, the trouble they had in this country. He wondered just how good this lawman was. Usually the law could keep the violence down, but here nothing was being done. The name of Jem Grove had been mentioned several times, and it seemed to Harlan that the outlaw was beyond the law’s jurisdiction. The sheriff had said that things hadn’t been so bad when Grove had been running the operation. He didn’t like this set-up at all. Perhaps the sheriff was in league with the rustlers.

  “I reckon I’d better get along to Doberman’s Post,” the sheriff commented. “It’s about time someone cleaned out that nest. I’ve been itching to do it myself for years but never got the proof. Doberman sure made a big mistake when he tried to take you, Harlan.”

  “It was mostly luck on my side,” Harlan confessed. “I was hurt pretty bad by Sim Horn’s killing, I can tell you.”

  “Yeah, well, there ain’t no telling what a man will do when he’s pushed. I wish you luck with the rustlers. I can see that you mean to have a go. I’ll try to get a posse together and make a sweep with you. Between us we might pull something off.” He shook his head and started for the door. There he paused and turned to the girl again. “Aggie, I’ll have to leave that man here. He ain’t got long, and rustler or not, I reckon a man should be allowed to die in peace. I’ll drop by here later, some time tomorrow, and take the body into Black Creek. Maybe I can find someone there who knows him.”

  The girl left the room with the lawman and Harlan glanced at Chuck Mallett.

  “They sure got an offhanded way of handling the law around here,” Harlan observed. “Back where we come from the whole county would have been up in arms by now.”

  “Yeah, but we’ve got to handle this ourselves, and it’s a chore I’m looking forward to,” the cowboy said. “We sure walked into something, huh? But we won’t get taken by surprise again.”

  “The trouble was,” Harlan mused, “Sim knew we wouldn’t have any trouble so long as we paid Grove the passage money, but we didn’t know the situation up here. This Clant Carter is the fly in the ointment. He broke away from Grove’s gang and he’s running the same kind of business in opposition. Carter was one of the two guys who snatched the money-belt from Sim. He was a big, black-haired galoot, and I sure hope that I meet up with him again.”

  The girl returned. She crossed to the wounded stranger and bent to examine him. Harlan watched her. She was pretty, and he liked her dark looks, but couldn’t help noticing that she had something on her mind. There seemed to be worry behind the glint in her dark eyes. It seemed to indicate that she was worried about something more personal than the general situation in the county. But it was none of his business, he thought. He stifled a yawn as she turned to face him, and she noticed it.

  “You must be tired,” she said. “I’ve had a couple of rooms prepared for you. You must have forgotten what it’s like to sleep in a bed.”

  “We sure have,” Harlan replied with a smile. “For the past week at least we’ve slept in wet blankets. But I can’t help feeling a little guilty about turning into a dry bed tonight while the rest of my crew is holding what’s left of our herd back there at the camp.”

  “We weren’t heading back there tonight in any case,” Mallett pointed out. “Tomorrow we plan to go on and look for more sign of the rustlers, don’t we?”

  “That’s the general idea,” Harlan said slowly. “But I’m wondering if we ain’t playing this too clever. While we’re looking for more tracks, those rustlers could double back and snatch the rest of the herd.”

  “The boys will be ready for them next time,” Mallett said staunchly.

  “Yeah.” Harlan agreed, “but all those rustlers have to do is stampede the herd and the outfit is up to its neck in trouble. It’s that damned law of the range that’s the trouble.”

  “We live and die by it,” Mallett said thinly.

  “I’ll show you up to your rooms.
” The girl moved to the door. “I shall be up early in the morning, so it won’t disturb me if you want to get on your way at dawn.”

  “Thanks,” Harlan said, “and thanks again for everything. This evening has made me realise what we miss out there on the trail. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worth it.”

  They followed the girl to the bedrooms, and after bidding them goodnight she departed. Harlan went with Mallett to look at the second room, and the cowboy grinned tiredly as he sat on the bed to test it.

  “I’ll never wake up again,” he said. “You’ll have to come and call me in the morning, Steve.”

  “We’ll need to be on our way as early as we can,” Harlan replied. “I’m getting anxious about the camp. Anything could happen tonight while we’re rolling in luxury.”

  “Face up to it,” the cowboy told him. “There’s nothing we can do about it, is there? It’s almost a day’s ride back to where the herd is, so relax. It’s in the hands of the Maker.”

  Harlan went to his room and undressed. He slipped between the dry sheets and stretched out. This was sheer luxury after the weeks on the trail, and more especially after the long days of eternal rain. He sighed as he listened to the sound of the rain beating against the windows, then blew out the lamp and settled himself to sleep. He closed his eyes and dropped off instantly, utterly worn out, his body surrendering completely now that he had relaxed.

  How long he lay dreamless he had no idea, but suddenly he was awake and listening intently. He sat up in the bed, straining his ears, and wondering sleepily what it was that had awakened him. He slid out of the bed and padded to the window, shivering as the chill night air touched him. The rain was still pattering against the window, and he eased it open slightly and peered out, squinting his eyes as droplets of water showered into his face.

  He was looking out over the yard at the front of the house, and searched the shadows carefully, trying to recall exactly what had awakened him. Then he caught a faint movement below, just a changing of the shadow patterns, and slitted his eyes and tried to pierce the darkness. He was beginning to think that he had imagined it all when a man stepped out of a dark corner and went swiftly across the yard to a long, low building that Harlan decided was the bunkhouse. It wasn’t the big man, Wiley Shaw, he thought, and decided that it must be another of the crew. He started to go back to bed, filled with the desire for more sleep, when another man stepped out of shadows and stood for a moment staring around. When he moved back into his concealment, Harlan stared at the spot with rapidly pounding heart. This looked bad!

  FOUR

  Harlan kept a close watch on the yard for several minutes, wondering about the incident he had witnessed. If they were some of the girl’s outfit down there why should they stand out in the rain? He didn’t like it, and a picture of the girl’s worried face came to mind. He quickly put two and two together, almost intuitively deciding that this incident was connected with the girl’s uneasiness. He closed the window gently and dressed, pushed by something which he could not understand. The girl was in trouble, and his own problems fled before that knowledge. He had felt a strange warmth for the girl from the moment he set eyes on her, and only now did it flare from his subconscious into his awareness.

  He tried to control his fast-beating heart as he left his room. His gunbelt and weapon were down in the kitchen, and he carried his boots. The house was in darkness, but he knew the way. He cat-footed down the stairs and went silently into the kitchen. There he pulled on his boots and picked up his gunbelt. Perhaps this was none of his business. He was a guest in this house, but he owed something to his hostess. If she were in trouble then he would do what he could to help her.

  He buckled on his belt and tied down the holster. The back door was bolted, but he managed to open it without making too much noise. He shivered, and stifled a yawn as he slipped out of the house and closed the door behind him.

  Sneaking around the back of the house, he reached the far corner and peered through the greyness at the bunkhouse. The place was in deep shadow, and he turned his eyes towards the spot where he had seen the second man standing. Now he could see nothing, but that did not mean a thing. He set his teeth into his bottom lip as he contemplated the situation. Perhaps this was an innocent arrival, he told himself. Perhaps the second man he had seen was really a guard. It was likely that in this violent country the ranchers maintained an all-night watch. But he still had the feeling that something was wrong and eased himself back and started the circling movement that would bring him in behind the bunkhouse without showing himself to the watchful eyes in the yard. As he left the cover of the wall the rain hit him, and he clenched his teeth as the old familiar chill started enveloping him.

  He was plastered by the time he crept in behind the bunkhouse. He estimated that twenty minutes had passed since he had been startled awake. Perhaps the prowlers were gone now. They hadn’t come to raise hell, and that was obvious or the disturbance would have started before now. He straightened and pressed himself flat against the rough boards that formed the back of the bunkhouse. Almost immediately he heard the sound of hoarse voices pitched low. He pressed his ear against the wall in an effort to eavesdrop.

  “I’m telling you it’s too much of a risk,” said a voice which Harlan recognised as Wiley Shaw’s. “Damn me, I’ve done far too much for Grove now. I’m the one sticking out my neck. I’m all alone here, and you know what would happen if Aggie ever found out.”

  “Don’t worry about the girl,” came the harsh reply. “I tell you she won’t do a damn thing if she found out. Her brother played right into our hands when he hit that herd last night. This is the big time, Wiley. We’ve got to stick out our necks a little or we’ll go to the wall. Carter is making a powerful effort to take over the whole country, and Grove don’t like it. This part of Kansas has always been Grove’s stamping-ground. Even the law admits that. You’ve got to go through with it, Wiley. There ain’t much risk to you. Will Payne had thrown in his hand with Carter. We’ve got them where we want them now. All Grove wants you to do is keep a close watch on the girl, and try to get Will Payne to make a try for the rest of that Texas herd down by Doberman’s store.”

  “I tell you it’s too risky, Baker. We got a couple of those Texas herders staying at the house tonight. They rode in earlier and told us all about the raid. I guessed it was Will behind it, although he told his sister he was making for Dodge. But he took along more of the crew than he needed. He must think I’m dumb. He asked me to stick around here to keep an eye on his sister. I damn well know he doesn’t trust me enough to cut me in on his crooked deals, and that sister of his thinks the sun shines out of him.”

  “Well, are you going through with it?” the outlaw demanded. “Grove says you’ve got to, and you know him when he gives the word. He’s been after this place long enough, and he’s getting mighty impatient. He knows Will Payne ain’t got a penny left in the bank. He’s gone through the whole damn inheritance. Now is the time for Grove to step in. That gal is gonna play up, but Grove reckons you can handle her.”

  “I don’t know so much about that. She ain’t given me no sign that she’s falling for me,” Shaw said. “I don’t like this whole deal. I told Grove that in the first place. The girl ain’t a bad sort.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” the outlaw warned. “You know what happens to a guy who crosses Grove. You better do like you’re told with no questions asked, or Grove might get the idea to ride in here with the gang and start some smoke blowing.”

  “Okay,” Shaw muttered. “But I don’t like it, and you can tell Grove that if you like. If I get Payne started for the rest of that herd he’s gonna wind up plenty dead. Those cattlemen are now rearing to go. They had the hell of a time last night, and some of their drovers were killed. You know what Texas cowboys are like when they get the bit between their teeth. They’ll go to hell and back before they’re satisfied. Grove might be starting something that he can’t finish.”

  “L
eave him to worry about that, Wiley. You start worrying about yourself. You’re getting too fussy, and Grove don’t like that kind of guy around him.”

  “I didn’t ask to be sneaked into this outfit,” Shaw said glumly. It’s a hell of a way to die. You know what would happen to me if any of this crew found out about it.”

  “I’m going now,” the other said firmly. “You got your orders. I took a risk sneaking in here like I did. But Grove wants this to go off okay. He’s got a pardon coming up soon. It cost him plenty, but he’s finally swung it, and he wants to come and live here.” Harlan crouched in the damp darkness, his heart fast beating. He heard the bunkhouse door squeak open, then close, and moved slowly around the bunk-house until he could see a furtive figure moving away across the yard. He shivered and stood watching for a long time, but after the figure of the outlaw had vanished into the shadows of the barn he didn’t see or hear another thing. The rain drummed monotonously, and the wind howled mournfully. He pressed an ear against the wall of the bunkhouse again and heard the sound of snoring. Wiley Shaw was asleep. Evidently the undercover outlaw didn’t suffer from a guilty conscience.

  Harlan started back to the house, and paused in the kitchen to remove his sodden boots. He cursed the rain again as he stripped off the wet clothes he had borrowed. They belonged to Will Payne, he thought grimly, the brother of his hostess, and the man responsible for the attack upon the herd last night, if the conversation in the bunkhouse were true. He frowned as he donned his own clothes now, which were dried out and stiff. Then he tiptoed up to his room, pausing again outside the door of his pard’s to listen. He heard the sound of heavy snoring, and his thoughts went once more to the rest of his outfit still shivering in the rain. He shook his head slowly and went back to bed.

  In the morning he was awakened by a hammering on the door, and jerked up in the bed, grabbing for his gun. The door opened and Chuck Mallett came in, grinning. The cowboy stared at Harlan with bleary eyes, but it was obvious that he was in the best of spirits.