by Hank Madison
“Wake up, Steve. Ain’t you had enough shut-eye? We got work to do, mister.”
“Yeah.” Harlan climbed out of bed and stretched. He yawned as he pulled on his clothes. He noticed that Mallett had dressed in his own clothes, and the cowboy was already wearing his gunbelt.
“Grub is ready in the kitchen,” the cowboy said. “I figured you could smell it. It sure reminds me that there are better things in this world then beef and beans.”
“There are a lot worse things too,” Harlan said softly. He was still tired, and felt irritable. But his head was buzzing with the knowledge of the conversation he had overheard. He was wondering what to do about it. Thinking of the girl, he had realised that there was an unusual warmth in his heart. He couldn’t define it, but his pulses were leaping and there was a lightness in his chest. He had known women before, but the acquaintanceship had always been shallow, with no ties. This girl was a stranger to him, yet he felt involved, and he didn’t like it.
He followed the cowboy down to the kitchen, his mind churning over what he had heard. He knew the girl was in some kind of trouble. Her manner and expression had told him that, but did she realise exactly how bad that trouble was? Did she have suspicions that her brother was mixed up in this rustling? He shook his head. What a hell of a way to live! It seemed that every man in this part of the country thought it was okay to prey upon the passing herds. Everyone was getting into the act.
The female cook gave them a good breakfast, and then Chuck Mallett went outside to saddle up their horses. Harlan entered the big sitting-room to look at the wounded stranger, but the couch was bare. He tightened his lips when he realised that the man must have died. As he turned to leave, the door was opened and Aggie Payne appeared. Her face was taut and strained, and Harlan guessed that she didn’t get much sleep during the night. Again he wondered just how much she knew about the true situation around here.
She gave him a smile of welcome, and Harlan could not help noticing how his heartbeats speeded up at the sight of her. He felt tonguetied for the first time in his life, and tried to shrug it off.
“The rain has stopped,” she reported with a smile. “After eight days, it’s stopped.”
“I can’t believe it,” he replied lightly. “You must be dreaming.”
“Take a look.” She went to the window and pointed outside, and Harlan closed on her and took a look. The sky was grey, almost sagging under the weight of water still to come, but he saw that the rain had stopped.
“It doesn’t look too promising,” he remarked.
“We’ve got to have something to hope about,” she replied.
It was on the tip of his tongue to talk about what he had heard, but, for some reason, held his peace. She looked up at him, her lips compressed, her dark eyes filled with something that was akin to despair. He was tempted to say something to comfort her, but he was a stranger, and she might misunderstand. He set his teeth into his bottom lip as he started for the door. He wouldn’t be leaving this county yet. He intended taking a hand in this business. By the time he got through, the rustling menace would be done, or he would be dead along with the rest of his crew. He did not know yet exactly what was happening around here, and the little he had learnt was sickening.
He paused in the doorway, shaking his head slowly. The girl watched him, and there was regret in her eyes. It was as though a thread of understanding had twined around the both of them. It was uncanny, but Harlan figured that she was struck by him in much the same way he was attracted to her. It was in her eyes, and he was on the point of telling her so, but a heavy step sounded at his back and he turned quicky to see Wiley Shaw approaching.
He studied the man’s fleshy face, wondering just how low a human could sink. Shaw was grinning, and there was no trace of uneasiness in him. But the way he had spoken to his outlaw friend in the bunkhouse proved that he was beginning to feel the strain of his double life.
“Your pard said your horses are ready saddled and he is waiting to ride out,” Shaw reported. “Have a good trip.”
“Thanks, we will,” Harlan said thinly. He let his eyes lift to the girl. “Thanks for your hospitality,” he told her. “If you’re ever in my country you must drop in at the Cross H. I’m taking the rest of my herd to Dodge now, and if I meet your brother on the way I’ll introduce myself. So long.”
“It was nice seeing you,” the girl told him softly. “We don’t get many visitors here, especially with the country like it is.”
“That’s understandable,” he replied with a harsh smile. “It’s open season on all strangers in this part of the world.”
He turned then and left, taking with him a picture of her wan face, the haunted expression in her eyes. He figured that if he hadn’t been a stranger she would have unburdened herself to him, and he grimaced wryly as he figured that he might be riding out of her life for ever. Somehow that didn’t seem right, and he pulled himself up angrily as he stepped into the yard. What was getting into him? He had enough trouble on his own plate without taking on half the worries besetting the local population. From what he had heard outside the bunkhouse the girl’s brother was responsible for running off his herd the previous night.
Chuck Mallett was already mounted, and Harlan stepped up into his saddle and led the way across the muddy yard. The rain had really stopped, he was glad to see, and there was great rents in the sullen grey clouds overhead. A narrow bar of weak sunlight was trying to pierce the murk, to touch the soaked prairie. They left the ranch quickly, and when they had returned to the trail they left the previous night, Harlan reined in and started telling Mallett all that he had learnt. He saw the cowboy’s face showing a whole range of expressions from disbelief to plain amazement, and, when he had finished, the youngster whirled his horse around.
“Where in hell do you think you’re going?” Harlan demanded. “We got to get back to the herd.”
“There’s only one thing to be done,” Mallett snapped. “I’m going to kill that double-dealing crook Shaw.”
“Cool off,” Harlan advised. “I would have done that if I figured it was the right way to handle it, but I ain’t sure. That girl is in some kind of trouble, and I don’t intend to add to it.”
“We lost three men last night,” Mallett said bitterly. “Now you tell me there’s likely to be another attempt on the herd. Them rustlers plan to run off with the other half. What the hell, Steve! We can’t stand around and let that happen.”
“We ain’t gonna do any such thing,” Harlan replied. “I’m gonna stick around here while you get back to the herd and warn the outfit to expect more trouble. Tell Luke Rowe to take over until I get back. If that old cook can’t handle a herd and trail better than me then he’s got no right to call himself an old cowhand.”
“I want to stay with you,” Mallett objected. “I’ve got a right to even a score for those boys we lost.”
“You’ll get the chance all right,” Harlan told him, “but not right now. I’m going to stick around and find out if her brother is responsible for that rustling. If he is, I want to know what happened to the steers they ran off. If they’ve been sold then I want the money for them. If they ain’t been sold then I want them back. Don’t you worry about not getting into a fight, Chuck. I didn’t trail a thousand miles with that herd just to hand them over to rustlers this close to the end of it. We’re gonna fight, and fight like hell. Maybe we’ll be fighting for our lives before this is done. But the boys have got to be warned. We don’t want any more of them getting shot up. You head out right now and get back to the outfit, and stay with them. If Rowe is ready to pull out for Dodge, then go along with him. I’ll be around here when you get back.”
“That’s a hell of a note,” the young cowboy complained. “You don’t think any of the boys will pull out with the herd while you’re still around, do you?” “Of course I do.” Harlan grinned wickedly. “It’s the law of the range, ain’t it? The herd always comes first.”
“You’re a cattle
man, and the son of a cattleman,” Mallett pointed out. “But you ain’t taking heed of that saying.”
“I’m still only learning the job, remember?” Harlan said. “Go on, Chuck, get moving. The outfit could be in bad trouble right now.”
“Okay, but only because you’re the boss,” Mallett said. He stuck out his hand. “Take care of yourself, Steve,” he advised. “These guys around here are mighty tough, and they don’t play easy. This is meant, you can believe that.”
“I killed half a dozen men last night,” Harlan countered, with a quiver in his voice. “Do you suppose I don’t know what this is all about?”
The cowboy nodded, his face set grimly, and he wheeled his horse and rode off fast, mud flying from the hooves of his mount. Harlan sat his horse and watched the youngster out of sight. He felt a little easier with the knowledge that his crew would be ready for any other attempt the rustlers might make. Then he looked around, studying the country. He could see that the rain had washed away the last vestiges of the tracks left by the stolen herd. He would be wasting his time by trying to find the rustlers, and he had a much better idea anyway. From the conversation he had overheard he figured that Will Payne would be returning to the ranch very shortly. Possibly the rustlers would hold up the steers they had stolen until they could add to them. Well he hoped to be able to thwart their crooked plans.
He wondered if the girl really thought her brother had gone to Dodge City. Her concern and worry had seemed genuine, but he wasn’t satisfied that appearances told the truth. His mind protested at that. The girl couldn’t have any part of this crookedness, even though rustling seemed to be a local industry. He turned his mount and started riding slowly back towards the girl’s place. He wanted to find himself a spot where he could lie up and watch the ranch. He wanted to see who was coming and going. Every man in this county was a stranger to him, but he wanted to find out who was riding where.
He started circling the headquarters, his eyes critical of the building when he dropped out of his saddle to observe the country. He left his horse tethered in a clump of brush and walked into a stand of timber, edging forward until he could see the house and other buildings. There was no activity, and impatience flared through him. He didn’t want to waste too much time. He had to get things moving. Time was on the side of the rustlers. He settled himself to wait, and made the decision that he wouldn’t stay longer than one day. He was anxious to get started on the chore of finding the herd and bringing the rustlers to justice.
The sun warmed the wet earth, and steam arose as the range dried out. The dark clouds rolled away and he felt his spirits rise accordingly. The depression of dull grey days had left its mark upon them all, and it wasn’t until the sky cleared that he realised it was so. Now he shrugged his shoulders, steeling himself for what was to come, and lifted his gun and checked it. He reloaded with fresh shells. He was ready for anything, and smiled grimly when he thought that these rustlers did not know what they had let themselves in for when they touched his herd.
The morning passed and he was soon tired of standing around. The heat from the sun dispelled all signs of the long deluge, and he began to sweat, marvelling that such a great change could be wrought so quickly. But he didn’t take his eyes off the house and the front yard. He saw Wiley Shaw moving around several times, but the crook made no attempt to leave the place. He kept lifting his eyes to the horizon, searching the ground in between for sign of riders. Will Payne had to come back here if Shaw was to tell him to steal the rest of the Texas herd.
The girl figured prominently in his thoughts, and after a time Harlan found that he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He pictured her worried face, and wondered if she knew that her brother was a rustler. He had heard that Will Payne had spent all that his father had left. That would account for his attempt to break into big-time rustling. But that was no excuse, and Harlan felt his temper rise as he considered the events of the past days. He narrowed his eyes when pictures of his fight at the trading post came to him. That had been real close. He didn’t want to find himself in such a desperate situation, again.
The afternoon wore away, and then he saw Shaw bring a horse out of the barn. It was saddled and ready for travel, and Harlan tightened his lips. Was this what he had been waiting and hoping for?
The girl came out of the house and climbed into the saddle. Shaw stepped away and she started out of the yard, Harlan watched her turn and ride away to the north. He waited for a time to get her direction set in his mind, and started for his own horse. He climbed into the saddle and started on a circling movement of the ranch. Beyond the house he picked up the girl’s trail and followed it.
She seemed to be in a hurry, he thought, and his lips tightened. Perhaps she was off to visit her brother at his hiding-place. Perhaps she was aware that this rustling was being done by Will Payne. He shrugged the idea away. She wouldn’t condone that sort of action, and he knew it. He told himself that he had known her only for a matter of hours, but he knew he had judged her right. She didn’t know that her brother had financial difficulties and had taken to the local business of rustling to help out.
He rode fast to gain on her, and when he did see her he settled down to steady riding. It was obvious that she was not just out for an afternoon ride. She was pushing along too fast for that. But then she might be on some innocent errand. He hadn’t thought of that, and for a moment he was undecided. He should be watching for her brother. He didn’t suspect her of anything. It was quite likely that her brother would show up at the ranch in her absence, and Harlan would lose a valuable lead.
He didn’t know what he would do if he saw Will Payne. It was obvious that the man would deny any knowledge of the rustling. The thing to do, he decided, was to follow Payne in the hope that he would lead the way back to where the cattle were being held.
Impatience was chafing inside him. He knew that Jem Grove wanted Will Payne to make a play for the rest of the herd. He didn’t know when that attempt would be made, and he hoped his outfit would be able to handle it. He drew a deep breath as he considered what he should do. He had his sense of direction, and could cut across country to Doberman’s Post. He could go back to his outfit and stand with them against the next attack. Then they could drive what was left of the herd on to Dodge. Once they’d got rid of the steers they would be free to come back here and devote all their attention to tracking down the rustlers. But that would mean a delay of some nine days before they could get into action, and by that time the rustlers would have moved out the stolen cattle. There would be nothing for the punchers to work on.
Harlan shook his head in exasperation. He didn’t want to give up now. But would it be wise to risk the remaining part of the herd in an attempt to recover the rustled stock? He shook his head again. He was defiant and obstinate. He thought he could get the stolen herd back, and meant to have a damn good try. He spurred his horse, for, lost in thought, he had allowed himself to drop back.
He caught sight of the girl again as she was disappearing over a skyline, and waited until she had passed from sight before setting his willing horse at the slope. The hot sun had by now removed all traces of the recent rain, and it was good to hear the sound of his hooves rapping the drying earth. He slowed just before hitting the skyline. If the girl looked back and saw him he would have a lot of tall explaining to do, and he didn’t want to alarm her or give her suspicions about her brother. She looked as if she might be an intensely loyal person, and if he told her about Will Payne she might try to find her brother to warn him that the game was up. He dismounted to stretch his legs, and bellied up to the crest to take a look over the top. His lips tightened and his teeth clicked together when he saw the girl dismounting from her horse. She was talking to two riders, who were also stepping down from their saddles.
The first thing that struck Harlan was the fact that the faces of both these men seemed familiar. He hadn’t seen many men in this country, and his mind went back immediately to his meeting in the
barn at Doberman’s Post with Clant Carter and the man’s crooked sidekick Buster Craig. He nodded to himself. These were the two men who had lifted Sim Horn’s money-belt. He studied their lean, grim faces. Carter was the man attempting to take over the whole crooked business now Jem Grove was on the dodge.
But in the back of his mind was a small knot of cold awareness. The girl seemed to be on friendly terms with these two crooks. They were standing together and talking animatedly. But the girl suddenly swung her hand and slapped one of the men in the face, and Harlan narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t at all friendly, he thought, with a small grin. Then he dropped his hand to his gun, for the slapped man grasped the girl’s wrists and forced her up close to himself. For a moment the girl stared into the man’s burning eyes. Then she lifted one foot and kicked him savagely in the shins. The man loosed her with a howl of pain and started hopping around on one foot. The other moved in threateningly, and made a grab at the girl, who evaded his clutches and turned to spring into her saddle. She made it easily, but the man grasped her reins and held the horse still.
Harlan drew his Colt. He threw a quick glance around to check his back trail. It was empty. He knew that he had to take a hand. These men were no friends to the girl, that was certain. He didn’t have to wonder why either. Carter had broken away from the Grove gang to start up in opposition, and the girl’s brother must be working in with Grove. That put Carter and the Payne family on opposite sides of the fence. He watched the tense scene just below him, determined to stay out of it as long as he could, but ready to make a move if the girl seemed to be in any danger.
The group was only a dozen yards below the crest, and Harlan craned in an endeavour to hear what was being said. He heard all right because the two men had raised their voices in anger.