Law of the Range

by Hank Madison

  “Let’s go now, before anyone tells Filby what happened to Craig,” the girl pleaded.

  “Okay, if that’s the way you feel about it.” Harlan knew that it was a long ride back to the girl’s place, and almost another day’s ride to the herd from there. In any case he would have to check at the Payne place to see if Will had returned. Grove wanted the girl’s brother to make a grab at the rest of the herd, and Shaw was the man to give him the orders. “It’s a long ride. Do you want to get yourself something to eat before we leave?”

  “No thanks. I can wait until we get back to my place. It’s only a few hours’ ride.”

  She turned to the door, but before she reached it the handle was turned. The door was thrust open and two men came into the doorway. They halted when they saw Harlan, and the foremost dropped a hand to his holstered gun.

  “Did you bring in Carter and Buster Craig?” the newcomer demanded.

  Harlan let his hand drop to the butt of his gun. The girl stepped quickly to one side, and as she turned to face Harlan he could see that her features were strained and taut, her eyes wide and her lips compressed. Her hands were trembling.

  “I did,” he replied. “But what’s it to you? They’re a couple of outlaws. They robbed me and my pard two days ago.”

  “Did you kill Craig?” the newcomer demanded.

  “That’s right, and I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way,” Harlan told him. His heart was pounding and he didn’t feel the confidence he was showing. He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of a town is this where everyone is on speaking terms with outlaws?” He knew that he was trying to buck the whole town, and guessed that it wouldn’t work. He was out on a limb but he couldn’t back down. The cards were falling in this hot game. He hadn’t dealt them, and had to content himself with what he’d got. The worst that could happen would be his death, and although he didn’t particularly want to die, he knew that he would go if he had to, and he would go smoking the gun that Sim Horn had taught him to use.

  “He’s another one of those tough Texan punchers,” said the second man, and Harlan let his eyes take in the tough figure. Here was one with all the earmarks of a professional gunman and he could guess that a man like Russ Filby would surround himself with hired guns.

  “That’s right,” he remarked, “and there are twenty more like me with my herd. If you give me trouble, then you’ll have them on your neck like a swarm of bees. Has this town ever been beaten up by a bunch of half-wild drovers?”

  “Now you’re trying to scare us,” Filby said. “I’m telling you, Texas man, that Buster Craig was a friend of mine.”

  “Then I don’t think much of your choice,” Harlan retorted. He was in this up to his neck, and could see that a fight was coming. The only thing he didn’t like about it was the girl’s presence. But likely they wouldn’t let her get away now. “Craig and Carter are outlaws. I did what any other honest man would have done, but it seems that the law ain’t particularly strong in this part of the world. Okay, so a man has to carry his law with him. Are you ready to stand up for Craig?”

  “Are you ready to fight me and the rest of this town?” Filby countered.

  “It looks like I ain’t got no choice.” Harlan smiled coldly. “It’s your play, mister. You call a tune and I’ll pay.”

  “I can take him, boss,” the gunman said stiffly. “Just step out of the way.”

  Harlan tensed at the harsh words, and waited for the saloon owner to move away. But Filby did not. He was studying Harlan, and could see no breaking-point. Then it was obvious to Harlan that this man did not want open warfare to start. But he did not relax.

  “What about it?” he demanded. “Craig is dead out there on his horse. If you want to take it up where he left off then get to it.”

  “We don’t want to bring trouble to the whole town,” Filby said slowly. “So Craig got himself into more trouble than he could handle. Well, I warned him that some day he’d pick on one gunhand too many. Okay, we’ll let it go, but I advise you to get out of town as fast as you can, Texas man.”

  “You ain’t running me out,” Harlan said roughly, and the gunman behind the saloon owner started swearing softly.

  “Is that so?” Filby was grinning now, and Harlan clicked his teeth together. “Okay, wild man, run along. Get out of here and don’t ever come back, alone or with your crew. You’ve made your point and I’m impressed. The whole town will hear about this by tomorrow, and they’ll be talking about you for a long time to come. But don’t push your luck. Get mounted and ride out of here.”

  Harlan exhaled slowly. The saloon owner turned and stepped out of the doorway, and the gunman remained facing Harlan. It was in the man’s face to go against his boss’s order, but the saloon owner rapped out a curt command, and the gunhand stepped inside the office and sidled along the wall, keeping his eyes on Harlan.

  Aggie Payne departed hurriedly. Harlan could tell by her face that she was scared half to death, and he tightened his lips. He moved away, not exposing his back to the watchful gunman. In the doorway he paused to throw a harsh glance at Filby.

  “I hope we don’t meet again,” he said. “I don’t like your kind, mister.”

  “That cuts both ways. If you do see me again you can bet your boots that you’ll have only a few seconds left to live.”

  Harlan turned away then, showing the gunman his back, and he clenched his teeth as he strode across the sidewalk and untied his horse. He did not look back at the office. The girl was already in her saddle, and she started away along the street, forcing some of the crowd standing around to jump quickly out of the way. Harlan swung into his saddle and started slowly after her. He knew that he was a prime target, stuck up on the back of his horse, but he kept moving as if he were among friends. He started along the street behind the girl, and only when he was out of gunshot range did his spurs rake the flanks of his horse. He galloped after the swiftly moving girl and caught her in the outskirts of town.

  “Don’t stop,” she cried as he made as if to rein up. “I think Filby wants to get you out of town so there’ll be no witnesses. He’ll have some men saddle up and take out after us. They know where my place is, and the route we’ll take. Let’s ride as fast as we can and try to lose ourselves in the darkness.”

  “Okay.” Harlan did not argue. He could feel the tension subsiding in his chest, but the void it left was being filled with shaky wonder. He had stuck out his neck so far it was a wonder he’d been able to pull it in again. He shivered at the closeness of the situation. He had bluffed them, he felt sure, but only because they had been in town. Even in this country a man couldn’t get away with cold-blooded murder committed before witnesses. He ranged his mount up alongside the girl and they drummed away across the range, heading into the gathering night, and several times he threw a quick glance over his shoulder but failed to see anyone in pursuit. He felt like a man reprieved from murder at the eleventh hour, and his throat constricted as he thought back to the incident in the law office.

  The girl set the pace. She was frightened, he realised, and shook his head in hopelessness. This was the hell of a country, and the sooner something was done about it the better. But he was glad the way things turned out. He wanted to return to the Payne ranch. Perhaps he would get a break now. If he could see Will Payne and have a word with him, perhaps he could make the youngster see the hopelessness of his situation. But from what he had learnt about the girl’s brother he realised that Will was a weak character, and there wouldn’t be much hope of getting the youngster to do anything.

  They pounded on through the night. When their mounts started to falter they reined up to rest them, and stood side by side in the darkness, listening to the harsh breathing of their horses, straining their ears to pick up the first drumming sounds of pursuit. They were both afraid that they might hear something, for attack out here on the lonely range would surely mean death for the both of them.

  But the night was quiet. Starshine gave them enough light to see
their immediate surroundings, and it melted away the harshness of the countryside. The grass was crisp underfoot now, and there was no way of telling that the entire previous week had seen nothing but heavy rain.

  Harlan let his thoughts roam as he stood at the girl’s side. He didn’t think that he could remain hesitant for much longer. She would have to be told about her brother. The shock would be great at any time, but the longer it was put off the more she would feel it when she did find out. He teetered on the brink of decision. It was in him to tell of what he had learnt when he crept in close to the bunkhouse and heard Shaw talking to the stranger. But he could not bring himself to start the sorry tale. This girl had enough grief on her plate now without him adding to it.

  But what about the stampede and the rustling of half the herd? Her brother or not, Will Payne would have to pay for what he had done. Two good Texans had been killed during the raid on the herd, and their deaths would have to be avenged. That was the law of the range, he reminded himself bitterly.

  When they went on again he began to feel uneasy. He couldn’t define the feeling. It was like a prickling at the back of his awareness, an icy tremor along the spine as if his danger signals were awakening. He kept gazing around into the darkness, but saw and heard nothing to alarm him. They were travelling fast, and he figured that the girl was feeling the strain. She had experienced some bad moments with him today.

  They were nearing the ranch, and still there were no sounds of pursuit. Harlan began to think that they had got away with it. They hammered up a rocky slope, their steelshod hooves striking sparks from the hard ground, and then they galloped over a crest. Harlan leaned back in his saddle to counteract the slope, and then he stiffened. They were skylined at the top of the slope, and the dead ground at the bottom was in pitch-darkness. But he caught sight of changing shadow patterns, and tried to pull his horse to one side with his left hand on the reins while he drew his gun with the right.

  He heard a voice yell, and his gun came smoothly out of leather, but before he could fire there was an orange flash from ahead. He heard the crack of the gun, and the next instant a tearing pain hammered through his left shoulder. He tumbled out of his saddle, and as he passed out he heard the girl screaming.

  SIX

  The pain in his shoulder prevented Harlan from completely losing his senses, and he could feel despair flooding him. He tried to prop himself up on one elbow, while his right hand flopped around over the grass searching for his fallen Colt. He gained the impression rather than saw the dark figures coming, and panic flooded him. He didn’t care about dying so long as he had a gun with which to fight, but he was down and they would finish him like they would shoot a horse with a broken leg. He could hear the girl screaming vibrantly, and it was the sound of her voice rather than his own fear that made him hang on to his slipping senses.

  “Don’t kill him!” the girl was crying, and repeating the sentence hysterically.

  Harlan saw menacing figures approaching. This was the end, he thought, and clicked his teeth together. Pain was fiery and probing in his shoulder. He kept scrabbling for his gun, but it must have fallen clear. He tried to thrust himself to his feet, to stand and take them on as they closed with him, but his wits were scattered and his senses swam. Starlight glinted on cold steel, and he let his breath go in a long, shuddering sigh.

  The girl came at a run out of the night and dropped down beside him, attempting to shield him with her body, and Harlan found that his strength was gone. He wanted to push her away but couldn’t.

  One man materialised from the group that confronted them, and Harlan clenched his teeth as he stared up at the chunky figure. There was a gun in the man’s hand, and it was levelled at them. Then the man spoke, and the girl lifted her head and started getting to her feet.

  “Jem,” she cried. “What are you doing out here?”

  Jem Grove, Harlan thought grimly. Another range wolf!

  “I’m asking you the same question,” the outlaw replied. “Who’s this guy?”

  Harlan listened to the girl rambling through the incidents which had befallen them. He relaxed slightly and looked up at the sky, where stars twinkled remotely. There was a roaring sound in his ears, and he thought he was about to lose his senses. He tried to hang on, but blackness swooped in to his mind and he knew no more.

  When he came to again his shoulder was tightly bound. A small fire was glowing at his side, and the girl was sitting on the other side of it. The big figure of Jem Grove was squatting opposite.

  “So you’ve come back to us,” the outlaw commented. “Well, there’s no real harm done. Lucky for you we didn’t take you for some of Carter’s bunch. Aggie here has been telling me what you did today. I owe you a vote of thanks. I’m Jem Grove. I knew your father in the old days, when he used to come north with his herds. Sorry to hear about Sim Horn getting it. I liked that old-timer. I knew him from way back. There never was any trouble when I was collecting the passage money. I ran this country good.”

  “You’re no better than the rest of them,” Harlan said between his teeth. “You’re as crooked as they come.”

  “Sure I am, but I’ve got some respect for other people’s property. I never hit the herds like Carter is doing. The ranchers used to pay me for the right to cross this country, and I used to keep the other gangs off their necks. Five hundred bucks per herd was cheap to buy a trouble-free passage. But I’d like to take my hat off to you, Harlan. You did a good job at Doberman’s Post. Ike Doberman was a good man once. He used to work for me, but I guess he got greedy, like the rest of those guys who busted away from my gang to go work with Carter. So you’ve beefed Craig, huh? That was a damn good job. You’ve got what it takes.”

  Thinking about what the stranger outlaw had said to Wiley Shaw, Harlan had to clench his teeth to prevent himself from making an accusation against Grove. He studied the outlaw’s ruddy face in the glow of the fire. Grove looked to be in his early fifties, a heavily built man with too much flesh on his frame. There was a glint in his deep-set eyes, but it was too dark for Harlan to see their colour. He didn’t doubt that they were cold and expressionless. He recalled having heard his father talk about the exploits of this particular outlaw, and his breath rasped in his throat as he felt some excitement rise inside him.

  “I’ve sent some of my boys out to deal with anyone who might have followed you from Black Creek,” the outlaw said.

  Harlan looked around, peering into the darkness, but could not see any more of the outlaw’s crew. Grove saw his movement and his teeth gleamed as he smiled.

  “We’re alone here now,” he said. “You ain’t got nothing to worry about. My boys are forming a screen about us. I hope some of those crooks are heading this way. It’s about time me and Carter had a showdown. But I’m hoping I’ve got a pardon coming up, and I don’t want to do anything to spoil that. I’ll see that you get your herd back, too. It’s my business to collect from the drovers and give them protection. I haven’t been able to do that lately, what with the attention I’ve been getting from the law, but I saw Sheriff Lott earlier today and he told me that the heat was off.”

  Harlan could only marvel that the law was so lax in this country. Down in Texas an outlaw was a man to be taken whenever possible. The law enforcement offices were really on top of their job down south. But this country seemed to have its own rules, and Harlan realised now that a stranger couldn’t do much against this set-up without coming up hard against the law. He might even be outlawed himself for what he had done. All it needed were a few false witnesses. He had heard of that sort of thing happening to a man, but had never really believed it. Now he was willing to believe anything.

  But Grove was lying through his teeth, he realised. From what he had overheard he knew that the outlaw wanted to take over the Payne ranch. He wanted to get Will Payne in real bad with the law by getting the youngster to steal the rest of the herd. Then it was likely that Grove would betray the youngster to the law. Harlan clenched his
teeth. There was a wanted outlaw sitting across the fire from him, calmly stating what he would do to help, but all the time he was planning how to turn this situation to his own advantage. It was plain to Harlan in that moment, but glancing at the girl he could see that she was relaxed for the first time since their meeting that afternoon. She felt safe with this crook to protect her, and he wondered at that. Why should she accept him as a friend?

  “I think I’d better get into my saddle and ride for my herd,” Harlan said suddenly.

  “No need for that,” Grove told him. “I’ve sent half a dozen of my men over that way to keep an eye on things. If Carter attacks again he’ll get more than he bargained for.”

  It was on the tip of Harlan’s tongue to tell the outlaw what he knew, but he kept quiet. Such a disclosure could only make trouble for himself. It seemed that for the moment Grove was on his side, so he had better let sleeping dogs lie. But he drew a deep breath. He had been playing with the cards that fate had dealt him, and he couldn’t change anything. But perhaps his turn would come later.

  “I’ll escort the pair of you back to your place, Aggie,” Grove was saying. “You’ll be okay there. Your brother got back late this afternoon.”

  Harlan tensed as he took in the news. But he shook his head as he recalled the orders given to Shaw. Grove wanted the man to persuade Will Payne to make another attack on the herd. Why, he wondered, was Grove concerning himself with that? Had the outlaw alerted the sheriff in the hope that the law would set an ambush which would kill the youngster? With Will Payne out of the way, Grove would have a clear field against the girl, whose resistance would be dulled by grief.