Ambush at Blanco Canyon

by Donald Hamilton

  McKay awoke with a large lump behind the left car, but no pain worth mentioning, which was a relief after the blinding headache with which he had gone to bed. Because of it, he had no clear memory of his arrival at the Ladder ranch or his meeting with Patricia’s father; dizzy with the throbbing of his head, he had excused himself immediately after dinner on the ground of weariness and sought refuge in his room.

  Major Terrill was in the living room when he entered. The older man rose to greet him saying approvingly, “You’re up early. I’d given instructions to let you sleep, after your long journey; but since you’re here, we can have our breakfast together.” He smiled. “My daughter, as you’ll discover, is not an early riser. This way, Mr. McKay. Perhaps I may call you Jim?”

  “I’d be pleased if you would, sir,” McKay said, following the other into the dining room, noting that the furnishings of the great, sprawling ranch house would not have looked out of place in a fine house in Baltimore, nor would their owner, a lull, slender gentleman who showed no sign of age beyond his while hair and sweeping while mustache. Something about the whole picture he was seeing—refreshed by sleep and with daylight to help him—disturbed McKay this morning, where he had only been impressed by it the night before. He could not help thinking that the sweat-smelling, red-haired young ruffian who had clubbed him down in the road was probably closer to the realities of this rough land than was the erect, immaculate old gentleman before him.

  “You have a beautiful place here, sir,” McKay said as they sat down at the table.

  “I take no credit for it,” the older man said, “Patricia’s mother is largely responsible; it’s a pity she didn’t live to see it completed. I’m glad to have this opportunity to talk to you alone, Jim. First of all, I want to say that I’m extremely grateful for the considerate way you’ve behaved. I know it’s not in Patricia’s nature to wait six months for anything. I believe, therefore, that I owe it to you that I’ll have the pleasure of seeing my daughter married from this house, and I thank you.”

  McKay said. “It’s my marriage, too, sir; and I saw no reason not to do it properly.”

  The major laughed. “Well, we’ll certainly try to oblige you. The bishop will be here early next week—he was delayed by illness or he’d have been here tomorrow. I’d like for you to see the ranch and some of the surrounding country; it’s a big country, sir, a country with a future. We’ve made a start here at Ladder, but it’s only a start. I see an empire in the making, Jim; a cattle empire. Of course, there are obstacles——”

  McKay rubbed the back of his head ruefully, “I believe I met one of those obstacles yesterday evening. Who are the Hanneseys, anyway?”

  “Scum,” the major said. “There’s no other word for them. The Hanneseys are trash, sir. Tennessee trash. I believe.”

  “How many of them are there?”

  “It’s hard to say. Such people are as prolific as animals. At present there’s the titular head of the family. Old Lafe, who’s well over a hundred, they have to feed and dress and wash him like a baby—I doubt they spend much time at the washing. Then there are his two sons—Jacob, who’s a little weak in the head; and Rufus, who has a certain cunning. Jake has a wife and several children, mostly half-witted. Rufus has had over a dozen children by three different wives. I’m told. Seven or eight survive. The oldest male is young Rufus, known as Buck, whom you met. There are several daughters, all married. They are all busy producing more little Hanneseys under various names. They all live together like a pack of wild dogs up in Blanco Canyon. That any decent white woman would ever consider having business dealings with them, let alone marrying into that barbaric ménage, is more than I can understand. Clem Maragon was a rough and outspoken individual with few social graces, but I considered him my friend, and I must say that I’m deeply hurt by his daughter’s attitude. I understand you talked to her yesterday. I can only tell myself that they must have frightened her in some way, but if so, why didn’t she come to me for protection? Well, I didn’t mean to bore you with our problem. Jim. Tell me of your own plans.”

  “They’re a little vague at the moment, sir,” McKay said. “Steam is changing the whole shipping industry and quickly. McKay Brothers is merging with several of its former competitors. We’ve been working out the details of the transaction all winter. The way it looks now, I can take out my father’s share in cash or I can take an interest in the new firm. A position goes with it. I have a month or so longer to decide.”

  “Patricia said you were considering coming out here to live. Naturally, as her parent, I approve of the idea heartily.”

  McKay said, “Well, it’s just a possibility and maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it yet. The romance of the sea is pretty much a thing of the past, sir.”

  “Well, if it’s romance you want, my boy, you can find it here. And as for the practical aspects, this country is growing and a young man with money to invest could grow with it. In fact, Ladder would welcome new blood, and this place, as you can see, is big enough for us all.”

  McKay said, “That’s more than generous of you, sir, and I certainly appreciate the offer. Will you give me a little time to think about it?”

  “I won’t hurry you, Jim.” the major said. He smiled, rising “Naturally, I realize that you’d like to strike out for yourself, and it’s natural for a young man to want to get his wife out from under the parental roof to a home of her own. But think it over, boy.”

  “I certainly will,” McKay said. “If you’ll excuse me for just a minute, I’d like to get something from my room. I’ll be right back.”

  Walking quickly through the house, he took out a handkerchief and patted his forehead lightly, feeling like a man who had just endured a lengthy formal ceremony—which, of course it had been, and there were more to come. Returning, he found the major in the living room, lighting a cigar. He placed the mahogany pistol case on the table beside the older man.

  “These belonged to my father, sir,” he said. “They’re French dueling pistols and quite accurate. I thought you might like to have them.”

  Major Terrill glanced at him. “Why, that’s very kind of you, Jim!” He laid the cigar aside and examined the case respectfully; then opened it carefully to inspect the engraved weapons inside, making a sound of appreciation, “These have seen use,” he said presently.

  “Yes,” McKay said. “When I was a boy, we used to go down to the shore and shoot them, practicing. My father said a gentleman ought to know how to defend his honor, if the occasion should arise.”

  The older man gave him a sideways look. “You seem to have a somewhat different attitude. Patricia said you refused to defend yourself on the road last night. She was a little upset about it.”

  McKay said, “Perhaps I did not feel that my honor was involved, sir.”

  “Well, yours may not be, but mine is!” Major Terrill said with sudden anger. “When a guest can’t come to my house without being set upon by a band of armed ruffians, it’s time that steps were taken, and I’ve sent Steve out to round up the men. We’re going to teach the Hanneseys a small lesson. Would you care to come along?”

  McKay hesitated. “If it’s all the same to you, major. I’d prefer not to be the cause of a lot of trouble. In fact, that’s precisely what I was trying to avoid yesterday afternoon. You’ll be doing me a favor if you simply forget it.”

  “Forget it!” The older man’s white mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. “I must say, Jim, that I find your attitude hard to understand!”

  “What attitude?” It was Patricia’s voice from the doorway, lightly questioning. “What about him do you find hard to understand, dad?”

  They turned to face her as she came forward, lull and lovely in a flowered blue dress.

  “Why,” said her father. “—why, I asked Jim if he wanted to accompany us to teach the Hanneseys a little lesson, but he seems reluctant.”

  McKay saw Patricia turn to look at him quickly, with the same stunted question that ha
d been in her eyes the day before, now more clearly defined. He met her glance levelly, and her eyes turned away. It was not a pleasant moment.

  He said, “I did not say that, sir. I merely hoped you’d reconsider the expedition. If you’re riding, of course I’ll go with you.”

  TO BE CONTINUED

  “When a guest can’t come to my house without being set upon by a band of armed ruffians, it’s time that steps were taken,” Major Terrill told James McKay heatedly. “I’ve sent Steve out to round up the men. We’re going to leach the Hanneseys a lesson.”

  McKay, an Easterner, had come to Texas to marry Major Terrill’s daughter, Pat. Jim arrived in town just as a fight was starling between some cowhands from the Terrill-owned Ladder Ranch and the rival Hannesey outfit.

  Steve Leech, handsome young Ladder foreman, kept Jim from getting involved in the struggle. Instead, Steve told Jim to go to Pat, who was waiting for him at the home of her friend, Julie Maragon

  Jim learned from Julie that the Ladder and Hannesey ranches were jockeying for control of some rich range along the Big Muddy River, which separated the two rival ranches. Legally, the land belonged to Julie, who had inherited it from her grandfather.

  Major Terrill was urging Julie to sell him title to the land. Young Buck Hannesey hoped to marry into the property. Julie had not yet decided what she should do.

  On their way from town to the Ladder Ranch, Pat and Jim were stopped by a group of riders led by Buck Hannesey. To Pat’s dismay, Jim put up no fight as Burk dragged him from his horse and gave him a bad roughing up.

  The next morning, Major Terrill was ready to ride on the Hennesey place.

  When Jim learned of his plans, he said, “I’d prefer not to cause a lot of trouble. You’ll be doing me a favor if you simply forget it.” But he added, “If you’re riding, of course I’ll go with you.”

  To Pat and her father, however, Jim’s first reluctance could mean only one thing: cowardice.

  II

  They stood for a moment in silence after her father had left the room. Patricia was the first to move, turning towards McKay with a helpless little gesture that had no clear meaning. He stepped forward and took her into his arms. Her response was a little slow in coming, but it came.

  “Oh, Jim!” she breathed presently. “I wish——”

  “What?”

  “That we’d done it when I wanted us to. That we were married right now. We had such a wonderful thing. I’m afraid something will spoil it.”

  He said, “If it can’t last six months and a week or so more, how is it going to endure all our lives?” After a while he asked, “Do you want to talk about yesterday afternoon, Patricia? That bothers you, doesn’t it? I disappointed you.”

  She looked up quickly. “No, of course not!” Then her glance wavered. “Well, maybe a little, darling. It isn’t fair, of course. You’re not used to——”

  He said, “I think you miss the point. Those men were obviously not going to kill me with you present as a witness, and I had your assurance that they would not dare harm you. On the other hand, I obviously couldn’t sit there and let my fiancé protect me; that would have been something to be ashamed of. If I’d taken the gun, I’d have had to shoot it. Would you have wanted me to shoot a couple of men to death in order to save myself a slight headache, my dear? Besides risking your life if they fired back, and perhaps touching off a bloody feud involving a lot of other people . . . I came out here expecting a fairly rough time. As I see it, the choice was mine. I wish your father would leave it alone!”

  The last sentence was a mistake, but he could not help it. But Patricia stiffened and stepped back, and the moment was broken.

  She said, “Dad’s doing what he thinks is right, Jim! And he’s lived in this country a little longer than you have!”

  “And you agree with him?” McKay asked gently. “You think this bump on my head is a matter that can only be settled by more violence, even if I’m willing to forget it?”

  She said, “There won’t be any violence. The Hanneseys will back down when they see dad means business; they always do.”

  “You mean this kind of thing has happened before?”

  “Of course. A couple of times. It builds up and builds up, little incidents and indignities and humiliations that we try to overlook until the situation becomes unbearable and we have to—well, show our teeth. And then they leave us alone for a while. There are no policemen on the street corners. Out here, people have to be their own law and their own policemen.”

  McKay said, “Perhaps. Nevertheless, I don’t like the idea of your father allowing himself to be goaded into hasty action by a man who, from everything I hear, is smart enough not to embark on these campaigns of petty annoyance without a purpose . . . All right, Patricia,” he said hastily. “I know that the major has lived here a long time and knows these people. Maybe he’s right. However, I’ve thought ever since I was a boy that the only possible justification that a man can have for taking one human life is to save another—either his own life or somebody else’s—and even then he ought to be clever enough to accomplish his purpose without killing. If people weren’t quite so ready to rush out and teach other people a lesson——”

  He checked himself too late. Patricia’s expression hardened and thin, started to speak; it was probably just as well that someone knocked at the door at this moment.

  Patricia hesitated, and said, “Come in.” Steve Leech stepped inside, holding his wide-brimmed hat in his hands. In his rough clothes, with the heavy revolver at his side, the tall man made a startling and incongruous figure among the fine furnishings of the room; yet the contrast was not to his disadvantage.

  “Didn’t mean to intrude, ma’am,” he said to Patricia. “I was looking for the major to tell him the crew’s ready whenever he wants to ride.”

  McKay said, “The major went to his room; he’ll be right back. I’d appreciate it if you’d have a horse saddled for me, Mr. Leech.”

  The cowboy’s pale blue eyes turned to McKay as if discovering his presence for the first time. “You’re coming along? It’s going to be a long ride for a tenderfoot; with trouble likely at the end of it.”

  “Trouble seems hard to avoid in this country,” McKay said.

  “It all comes from one place.” Leech said grimly. “Should I have a gun put on your saddle?”

  “If you please,” McKay said.

  “You want a gentle horse, I reckon. I’ll have one of the boys fix you up . . . You tell the major we’re ready, ma’am.”

  Patricia checked him as he turned to go, “Oh, Steve——”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Mr. McKay has the notion Rufus Hannesey may be setting a trap of some kind.”

  “It had better be a good one, then. Don’t you worry about us, ma’am. We can take care of ourselves I reckon.”

  “I’m sure you can, Steve,” she said, and watched him leave, and stood regarding the closed door a little longer than was necessary. When she turned and found McKay watching her, color came into her face. She started to speak, but was interrupted by the entrance of her father, and she addressed him instead. “Steve says the boys are ready to ride.”

  “Fine.” the major said. He was buckling about him a wide, hand-carved belt that carried a holstered revolver with white ivory grips. Another belt hung from his shoulder. He let this slip down his arm, caught it and held it out to McKay. “Fair exchange,” he said. “Try it on, my boy.”

  McKay took the gun belt and fastened it about his waist.

  “The piece is loaded in five chambers,” the major said. “It’s well to keep an empty under the hammer to avoid accidents. Well, if you’re ready sir, we’ll ride . . . Good-by, my dear.”

  “Be careful, dad.” she said. “Those Hanneseys are a tricky bunch . . . Good-by, Jim.”

  Major Terrill laughed. “Oh, don’t be bashful, girl. Kiss him. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him for you.”

  The major strode beside
him; and McKay glanced at the older man and ahead to where the two saddled horses awaited them, one a handsome animal of a type he had heard described but had never seen. He thought it was called a palomino. The other was a less spectacular specimen of horseflesh, a buckskin-colored gelding of uncertain age that looked weary already from the mere weight of the saddle—not that the beast could be blamed, McKay reflected wryly, considering the amount of furniture it was being asked to carry.

  The great, ornate Texas saddles, with their double cinches and large horns, looked very strange to a man used to nothing larger than a Maryland hunting saddle.

  The Major’s face was expressionless. McKay watched his future father-in-law swing himself onto the tall palomino with the ease of a youth of twenty. The older man turned away to speak to one of the cowboys.

  Steve Leech, holding the other horse, drawled. “We generally get on from the left side, Mr. McKay.”

  McKay looked up at him, and at the nearby riders. They were waiting. The major’s attention was still firmly fixed elsewhere. McKay looked at the buckskin again. The picture was very clear; a bad horse was a bad horse anywhere, and this animal had the eye of a mean one. McKay could see the next few moments very plainly: he was an adequate rider, but no more, and the horse would undoubtedly buck and throw him, to the great joy of the watching cowboys. The major would turn and be greatly shocked to discover the trick that had been played; Steve Leech would receive a sharp reprimand; and he, McKay, would be picked up with great concern and many apologies, dusted off and put on a reasonable mount—assuming no bones were broken. Then they would all ride off, bristling with firearms, to teach the Hanneseys a lesson.

  He was aware, without looking around, that Patricia was watching from the house; possibly she had recognized the buckskin horse and would run down to expose the trick—or perhaps, like her father, she was letting it proceed, to see how he would conduct himself. At any rate, he knew she was there somewhere behind him; he thought he would always know when she was near, because he loved her. But a man could not pretend to be something other than he was, for a whole lifetime, for any woman.