Law of the Range

by Hank Madison

  He found himself standing in a gloomy passage, and started slowly along it, head half turned and ears sharpened for sound. He passed a half-open door on his right and caught a glimpse of a girl inside, seated at a table and brushing her long blonde hair. Their eyes met as he glanced into the mirror before which she sat, but she gave no indication of having seen him. He walked slowly to the end of the passage and mounted the flight of stairs. He figured that the first thing Carter did upon arrival was lock the girl away somewhere, and she would be safer on the upper floor. Likely there would be a man guarding her, and Harlan tightened his lips as tension started to build up inside him.

  He mounted the stairs and found another passage at the top. There were doors opening off on either side, and he touched the butt of his gun before making for the far end of the passage. He would start farthest away from the stairs and work towards them. He would have to do it the hard way, opening each door to check for Aggie, and if Carter or Filby occupied any of these rooms then the shooting would start.

  He checked three rooms before he came to a door that was locked. He swallowed the tension that had climbed up into his throat and tapped gently on the door.

  “Aggie,” he whispered hoarsely. “Are you in there?”

  There was no reply and he shook his head. His heart was pounding heavily, like the hooves of a galloping horse. He tried the handle again, but the door was locked. He tapped again, louder, and heard someone stirring inside the room. Then a key turned in the lock and the door opened a fraction. A stubbled face peered at him, bleary-eyed and angry.

  “What the hell do you want? Get to hell out of here.”

  “Sorry, wrong room,” Harlan said quickly. “Carter told me to come up and check on the girl.”

  “What girl? Are you drunk or loco? Get to hell out of here and let a man sleep.”

  Harlan moved away, and heard the door slam and a key turn in the lock. Sweat trickled from under his hat, beading on his forehead before dripping down his face. He drew a shuddering breath and tried the next door. It opened and he peered inside. There was a girl sitting up in bed, reading a newspaper. She cursed him soundly when she saw him, and picked up a small gun and levelled it at him.

  “Get outta here, you punk!” she snarled, and he backed out and closed the door. He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. He was getting no place fast.

  The next door was locked, and he hesitated, wondering what he should do. He tightened his lips and went on, determining to come back to it last if he didn’t succeed elsewhere. The next door opened at his touch and he entered the room, then drew his gun.

  Clant Carter was sprawled out on the bed, almost asleep, but the outlaw soon forgot his tiredness when he saw Harlan.

  “What the hell!” he exclaimed, leaping up off the bed. “Who let you in here?”

  “I walked in, and I’m going out the same way, with Aggie Payne,” Harlan told him. “Play it my way and you might be free to walk out yourself. Give me some trouble and you’re a dead man.”

  Carter stared at him for a moment, able to see that Harlan had passed the line of compromise. The glitter in Harlan’s pale eyes sent a shiver through Carter’s black heart.

  “I ain’t got the girl here,” the outlaw retorted. “I turned her loose a couple of miles out from her place.”

  Harlan stared at him, caught momentarily off balance. Then he started toward the outlaw, his gun ready for action.

  “You’re lying. If you turned her loose I would have seen her. Where is she? If you want to be breathing when I pull out of here then you’d better come across. I’m in no mood for playing guessing games. Lay it on the line and I’ll let you live, until we meet again. Come on, talk, damn you. I haven’t got all day. Where’s the girl?”

  “She ain’t here, and that’s a fact,” Carter said easily. “I only brought her away from the ranch as a cover against you. But how did you miss my pard?”

  “I didn’t,” Harlan snapped. “He’s dead in the spot where he made his try for me.”

  “So you’re a real Texas gun-fanner, huh?” Carter began to recover his nerve. “Well you’re in a real bad spot now. How do you figure to get out of here, huh?”

  “The same way I came in, through the back door,” Harlan told him. “Now you better stop stalling and come through with the truth. I’m gonna come back here with my outfit after we’ve got rid of our herd, and start cleaning up. You’re gonna be the first target, Carter. Either way, you ain’t got much of an outlook. But you’ll get a little extra living if you come clean with me right now.”

  “What can I say?” Carter shrugged. “The girl ain’t here. You want that I should say she is? Okay, so she’s here, but you’ll have to tell me where.”

  Harlan swung his gunhand and the long barrel of his Colt slammed against Carter’s skull. The outlaw started to crumple, but pulled himself up, mouthing a curse and starting his hand towards the gunbelt he had hung over the back of the chair.

  “Just try it,” Harlan told him, grinning. “Just make your play, you punk. It’ll start the smoke drifting okay, but you won’t be alive to see whether your pards get me or not. Now, for the last time, are you going to tell me what really happened to Aggie?”

  Carter heaved a long sigh and slumped down on the bed. There was blood seeping through his black hair, and Harlan stepped forward again and lifted his gun.

  “You ain’t got much in the way of brains,” Harlan said. “Do you want me to knock out what’s left?”

  “Okay, okay,” the outlaw snarled. “What the hell do I want with that gal, anyway? No gal is worth getting your brains battered out for. She’s in the next room. I told her that we’d got you, and that if she played us up you’d get it in the neck. That’s why she’s settled down.”

  “The door is locked. Where’s the key?”

  Carter produced the key and held it out. Harlan reached out for it with his left hand, wincing as he strained his shoulder. He took the key from the outlaw, alert and cautious, and Carter laughed harshly, then made a grab for the Colt in Harlan’s hand. Harlan cursed and tried to flick his wrist to remove the weapon from Carter’s range. But the outlaw was desperate, and seized hold of the barrel, jerking upon it with all his strength. Before Harlan could get his finger off the trigger the weapon exploded. The muzzle of the Colt was pressed against Carter’s chest, held there by the outlaw’s powerful right hand. The crash of the shot rocked the room, and blue smoke danced on the still air. Carter uttered a gasp of horror and stiffened. His eyes widened, and surprise and shock stained his rugged features. He toppled backwards, frozen in horror and disbelief. Then the light died in his dark eyes and he slumped on the bed. A trickle of blood appeared at one corner of his slack mouth and his dull eyes stared accusingly at Harlan.

  Harlan backed to the door, still clutching his gun in one hand and the key in the other. He moistened his lips, and the first pangs of defeat stabbed through him. As he jerked open the door he heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Now the shooting would start, he thought grimly, and he still had to try and get the girl out of this.

  EIGHT

  For a moment Harlan was paralysed by the swiftness of the developments. Then he turned to the door, his gun ready. He jerked open the door and peered out into the passage. He might get a few seconds’ grace before the sound of the shot brought everyone running. But a man appeared at the top of the stairs, and Harlan recognised him as the gunman who had been with Russ Filby in the law office the previous night. The man shouted when he caught sight of Harlan, and drew his gun fast. Harlan did not hesitate. It was his and the girl’s life against those of outlaws and badmen. He triggered twice, and the gunman stumbled and went sprawling. Harlan hurried into the passage and thrust the key Carter had given him into the lock of the next door. When he tried to turn it the lock refused to move, and he gritted his teeth. He could hear shocked voices calling out from below stairs.

  “Aggie, are you in there?” he called, hamm
ering on the door.

  “Steve. Is that you?” The girl’s voice was muffled inside the room. “I am tied.”

  He drew a deep breath, then set himself and lunged at the door. It shook and rattled, but didn’t give, and he hurled his big frame at it with reckless abandon. Then a gun crashed loudly, and the door-post beside his head splintered under the impact of a bullet. He looked around sharply, and saw the man he had disturbed in one of the rooms peering at him, smoking gun in hand. Harlan fired, tightening his lips. On the heels of the report he heard fresh footsteps on the stairs, and ran his tongue over his dry lips. He was getting nowhere fast. The occupants of this place would be getting over their shock now. And trouble would come to him unless he got moving.

  He dashed back into the room where Carter lay dead and thrust open a window and peered out. He grunted when he saw a wide balcony out front. Most saloons had one, the steps leading down into an alley at the side. He climbed out quickly and hurried along to the next window, peering into the room. He saw Aggie lying tied on a bed, and tried the window. It was locked. He stepped back, lifted his foot and crashed out the glass, then stepped into the room. His boots made a crunching noise as he crossed to the bed. He dropped his gun and attacked the rope holding the girl, and she was staring up at him as if she had seen a ghost.

  He grinned tightly at her, and hauled her off the bed when she was free. She clung to him, but he pushed her towards a window. He could hear boots thudding in the passage outside, and knew the last tense seconds of the chances of escape were fleeting away. He peered out of the window, then stepped out on to the balcony. Aggie followed him, and he ran along the balcony and saw the steps leading down to the alley. He turned to urge the girl to hurry, and saw a man’s head and shoulders appear in the window they had vacated. He threw a shot at the man, causing him to duck back, and then he pushed Aggie past him and told her to head for the stable across the back lots. Then he paused to give her a head start, waiting tensely for pursuit.

  The head and shoulders reappeared and Harlan fired again. Then his hammer struck an empty chamber and he snatched fresh shells from his belt and reloaded. He started down the stairs, and saw Aggie waiting at the end of the alley. He shook his head and started running towards her. By the time he reached her he was breathless, and paused to look around again. There were men standing at the street end of the alley, and he gritted his teeth.

  “Start for the stable,” he said. “I’ll wait here a moment to give you a start. The old liveryman promised to have a couple of horses ready for us. Hit one of the saddles and light out fast.”

  She did not argue and he flattened himself by the corner and waited. He was standing almost beside the back door of the saloon, and turned swiftly to face it when the hinges squeaked. The door opened a fraction, and he levelled his gun. He fired one shot, angling it to strike the door above the head of the man who was emerging. The gunman ducked back quickly and the door was slammed. Harlan threw a glance towards the stable, and saw that the girl was now near the corral. He looked into the alley, but the men there wanted no part of this fight. They still clustered the alley mouth. Harlan sent another shot into the back door of the saloon and then started running for the stable. He cursed as he raced over the uneven ground, but figured that they still had a few moments before Filby and his crew realised exactly what had happened.

  There was no sign of the girl at the back of the stable, and he pushed into the gloomy interior. Then he saw her standing beside the old stableman. A stranger was facing them, and Harlan saw a gun in the man’s hand.

  “Over here,” he called, and the stranger turned quickly, lifting his gun. Aggie screamed in fear, and then the sharp sound was smothered by the crash of sixguns. Harlan got his slug off first, and saw the gunman stagger. Then a red-hot dart touched his left ear, leaving it numb, and he dropped to one knee. But there was no need for a second shot. The gunman staggered then fell on his face. The girl bent and snatched up his gun.

  “Where are the horses?” Harlan demanded.

  “Over there,” the oldster gasped. “They’re all ready for you. I didn’t think you’d make it. But good luck to you.”

  “Get mounted,” Harlan said to Aggie. “Then bring my horse to the back door.”

  He started back the way he had come and took a quick look across the back lots towards the saloon. Half a dozen men were coming forward cautiously, and he emptied his gun at them to scare them off. A volley of shots came in reply, and he heard bullets smacking into the woodwork about him. He ducked back as Aggie came towards him, mounted and leading his horse.

  “We’ll have to try the front door,” he told her. “There are too many of them out this way.” He swung into the saddle and turned the horse. The old stableman lifted a hand to him as he sent the horse towards the street. He reined up in the doorway with the girl crowding behind, and peered out. There was a bunch of men coming slowly along the street, and he shook his head. They had to go now or they would never get away.

  “Let’s make a run for it,” he said to Aggie. “It’s touch and go. I should have brought these horses along to the back of the saloon before I came in after you, but I didn’t give it a thought.”

  She smiled at him. Her face was pale and tense, her eyes wide. Then she set spurs into the flanks of her mount and went surging out into the street. A shout went up when she was spotted, and Harlan ranged alongside her. They turned away from the men and hammered along the street, heading out of town. Shouts sounded in their wake, and then guns began crashing. Harlan heard lead screaming about them, and he dropped back to cover the girl. She called out to him to keep up, but he waved her on. He twisted in his saddle and lifted his gun, then cursed when the hammer clicked harmlessly. He had forgotten to reload. He thrust the weapon back into its holster and devoted his energies to riding. They thundered out of town and started hammering across the countryside. When they drew clear they eased their mounts a little, and Harlan forced a grin.

  “That was too close for comfort,” he said loudly, and Aggie turned her face to him and smiled. She was game, he thought. She had taken a lot these past two days.

  “I thought they would kill you,” she replied. “That’s why I went along quietly. They murdered Wiley Shaw in cold blood, and I knew that they wouldn’t give you a chance.

  “I didn’t need one,” he told her, twisting in his saddle to stare at their back trail. “Can we start circling now, do you think? We’re going to head for Doberman’s Post. There must have been a lot happened during the night. I want to find out what the situation is.”

  “I dread to find out,” she replied. “If Grove set a trap for my brother, then Will is dead right now.”

  Harlan clenched his teeth and made no reply. He figured that it might be better for the girl and her brother if Will Payne had got himself killed. They swung to the right, and Harlan kept a close watch on their back trail, but did not see any signs of pursuit.

  If the old stableman had cut all the cinches, then the gunmen would have to ride barebacked or not at all.

  But the situation was still grim, he thought. There could have been the hell of a fight out at his herd. His outfit would have put up a battle, and then there was the crooked sheriff with his posse of Grove’s gang. Between the two sides, Will Payne didn’t seem to have much chance of surviving. Harlan threw a glance at Aggie, taking in her downcast manner, and shook his head hopelessly. There was nothing he could do to save her from the inevitable heartache.

  They halted once and got down to rest their horses, and Harlan reloaded his Colt and kept watching their back trail. There were no signs of pursuit, and he began to think that Filby, upon finding the body of Clant Carter, had given up hope of stopping the rot in his organisation.

  Aggie demanded to be told what had happened after Carter took her, and Harlan told her in a flat tone, his eyes lifting regularly to the skyline. When he had finished, the girl shook her head.

  “I’ve never been in such trouble in all my life,”
she confessed. “There’s danger and death all about us, and it isn’t done yet, is it? What will we find when we reach your herd?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t think it will be a pretty sight either way. If your brother succeeds, then a lot of my crew will be dead, and if they manage to beat up the rustlers, then your brother will likely have stopped some lead. Then there’s the sheriff with that crooked posse. They were supposed to have set a trap for your brother. I don’t think he can win anyway.”

  “He deserves whatever comes to him,” she said harshly. “I know he’s my brother, but he’s always been weak and foolish. He was influenced by Jem Grove, and Grove was never any good. I just don’t know where it will all end.”

  “I wish I did,” Harlan said, swinging back into his saddle. “Come on, we’d better get moving.”

  Aggie mounted and Harlan twisted in his saddle to check the back trail once more. He stiffened when he saw a cloud of dust in the middle distance. The girl heard his gasp of dismay, and turned and saw the telltale dust. He saw her face lose its hopelessness, and fear slowly seeped into her features.

  “Looks like it ain’t over yet for us,” he remarked. “We’d better start pushing these horses. Let’s go.” They continued at a gallop, and Harlan wondered how long the horses could maintain it. The old stableman back in town had done them proud, and they were both astride good horseflesh, but the animals were tiring. They had maintained a killing pace in their hurry to get clear. But that should work both ways, he thought. The pursuers would now be feeling the pace, and they had probably pushed their horses harder in trying to catch up. Aggie led the way, and Harlan wanted to stick close behind her although they were still a long way ahead and out of gunshot range. But he wouldn’t take any chances. He kept a close eye on the dust cloud, and an hour passed without the pursuers drawing any closer. Aggie was still some ten yards ahead of him, and she pushed her horse to the limit. There was a note of desperation in the frantic drumming of their hooves, and Harlan could feel his pulses racing. It wouldn’t be long, he thought. The pursuers could follow for longer than he and the girl could run. He was already noticing how his horse was wandering in its stride, and the sound of its laboured breathing grew louder with each passing yard. But still they pushed on, hoping against hope that the pursuers would finally call it off and turn back, but nothing of the sort happened. The dust cloud began to draw steadily nearer.