The Land of Strong Men

by A. M. Chisholm

  CHAPTER XXVI

  CONSPIRACY

  On the chance that, after all, water might be got on Faith's ranch,Angus had his own levels checked by a surveyor. The result was toconfirm them. Thus most of the level land was undoubtedly worthless foragricultural purposes. As for the rest of the property, it was hill andcoulee and included the round mountain. Angus had ridden over it andhunted through it and he thought he had nothing to learn about it. Hedismissed it with contempt. The only reasonable explanation of French'sdesire to purchase seemed to be that he was acting for Braden and thatBraden had some purchaser in view. That being so, it would pay to holdout for a better offer.

  So far as his own affairs were concerned, the outlook was not promising.His loan applications were turned down cold by various loan companies,as Judge Riley had feared. And one day he received a formal demand forpayment of mortgage and note, coupled with an intimation that, failingimmediate payment, legal proceedings would follow.

  "Yes, I thought this was about due," Judge Riley said when Angus showedhim the letter of Mr. Braden's lawyers. "There are no grounds fordefending the actions, that I know of."

  "The money is owing, no doubt about it. And I can't pay it."

  "Then it will have to be realized upon the security. I'm sorry, my boy.I don't know where you can raise a loan. If I had the money I'd lend itto you myself, but I haven't. Braden will get his judgments and sell."

  Angus himself saw nothing else for it. This, then, was the end of hisyears of work, of struggle, of self-denial. The land he had promised hisfather to hold would be sold and bid in by Braden for a fraction of itsvalue. For himself, so far as the financial loss went, he did not careespecially. But with it Jean's share would be swallowed up. Without anyfault of his own, so far as he could see, he had failed in his duty toher. And the thought was bitter.

  As he walked down the street his thoughts went back over the years. Hecould not attribute his failure to lack of hard work, to lack ofplanning, to lack of care. All these he had given, without stint. Theseasons had been against him, but they had been against others. He hadlost cattle mysteriously, but that was merely an incident. There was thefire which had destroyed his hay, but his own brother was responsiblefor that. Finally there was the ruin of his present crop by thedestruction of the ditch. That was the only definite act of hostility onwhich he could lay his finger. But apart from that he could not havepaid Braden.

  If he was to lose the ranch it did not matter who had wrecked his ditch.Turkey would be hoist by his own petard. Angus smiled grimly at thethought that his brother had contributed to his own loss. And just thenhe saw Turkey going through the door of Braden's office. To Angus it wasas if a searchlight had been turned upon a dark corner, as if a switchhad been closed establishing a connection.

  Up to that moment he had seen no object, other than spite, in thewrecking of the ditch. But now, as things were turning out anythingwhich injured him financially would further Braden's carefully laidplans to obtain the ranch. Might he not be responsible? There, at last,was motive, the thing he had sought vainly.

  The idea was new and amazing. But once formed it grew in probability.Would Turkey deliberately lend himself to a plan to deprive not onlyAngus but Jean and himself of the ranch? Likely he had not thought ofthat. The boy had been a catspaw without knowing Braden's ultimatepurpose. There were others besides Braden in the game. Braden himselfdid not do the work of destruction; but no doubt he had instigated andpaid for it. As to these others, Angus made up his mind to settle thescore with them if he ever found out their identity. Never again wouldhe lay a hand on Turkey. As for Braden--his mouth twisted scornfully atthe thought of the latter's fat body in his grip.

  But Turkey's visit to Mr. Braden's office was with quite a differentobject than Angus' interpretation of it. Between Turkey and Mr. Bradenthere was little more cordiality than on the day when the latter hadpatted the boy on the head. When he had left the ranch Mr. Braden hadextended sympathy, condemned Angus for harshness; but Turkey had beenunresponsive. He looked on family quarrels as the exclusive property ofthe family.

  Turkey knew of the mortgage which Mr. Braden held but nothing of itscondition. The burden of financing the ranch had been upon Angus, and hehad not shared it. Nor did Turkey know anything of the further sum Angushad borrowed. And so Turkey, if he thought of the mortgage at all,assumed that it was all right. It was Angus' business.

  He heard of the action which Mr. Braden was taking quite by accident. Onthe occasion when Angus had seen him entering the office he had gonethere merely with reference to a transaction in cattle in which Garlandwas interested. But on hearing that Braden had launched a mortgageaction, he went there to get first-hand information.

  "Do you mean," he queried with a scowl when Mr. Braden had stated thecase succinctly, "that the ranch will be sold?"

  "I am afraid there is nothing else for it," Mr. Braden replied inregretful tones. "I offered to buy it at a fair price, but your brotherwouldn't sell."

  "He wouldn't, hey!"

  Mr. Braden shook his head sadly. "I am sorry to say that the presentcondition of affairs is due to his recklessness and mismanagement."

  "Huh!" said Turkey.

  "It would have been much better," said Mr. Braden, "if I had insistedupon my original view after your father cash--er--was called hence. Ifelt that your brother was incompetent, and results have proved it. Iwas weak; yes, I admit that I was weak."

  "Then the size of it is, that we lose the ranch?"

  "If my claim is satisfied otherwise I shall be very glad. But of courseI have to protect myself."

  "Who gets it? You?"

  "It will be sold publicly to the highest bidder."

  "Is that you?"

  "I may have to bid it in to protect myself," Mr. Braden explained. "Itis forced on me, and I fear others--you and your sister--must suffer foryour brother's incompetence."

  Turkey, scowling said nothing for a moment.

  "I remember the day you came to the ranch after father died," he said atlast irrelevantly.

  "Um," Mr. Braden returned. "I felt very deeply for you in yourbereavement. You were quite a small boy then. I--er--patted you on thehead."

  "I didn't know you then," said Turkey, "but do you know what I thought?"

  "No," smiled Mr. Braden. "I suppose you stood somewhat in awe of me, myboy."

  "I thought you were a fat, old crook," Turkey announced.

  "Hey!" Mr. Braden ejaculated.

  "Of course, I know you better now," Turkey added.

  "Yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Braden with comprehension. "Childishimpressions. Most amusing. Ha-ha! Huh!"

  Turkey looked him in the eye.

  "And now you're fatter and older," he said deliberately, "and I believeyou're a damned sight crookeder than I thought you were then. Youpork-faced old mortgage shark, I'll like to burn your ears off with agun!"

  Mr. Braden gasped. Turkey's voice was as venomous as his words. Hishard, young mouth twisted bitterly as he spoke. "You're damned anxiousto sell the ranch, aren't you?" he went on. "Angus had the right steerabout you. He thought you were trying to put something over. I was akid, and he wasn't much more, but we both had you sized for a crook.Well, we're not kids now. Since I left the ranch I've been hearing aboutyou. I'll tell you what I've heard."

  Mr. Braden expressed no undue anxiety to hear. "I don't know what youhave heard and I don't care. If you can't talk decently, get out ofhere."

  "In a minute," said Turkey, "when I've told you what I think of you."

  His spoken opinion caused Mr. Braden to change color from time to time,but the prevailing hue was red.

  "Get out of my office!" he roared, rearing his impressive bulk againstTurkey's slimness. "Get out or I'll throw you out!"

  "Shucks!" said Turkey with contempt, and dug a hard, young thumb intoMr. Braden's forward over-hang. "That's the only thing you can throwout, you old tub of lard. You'll drop dead some day with a rotten heart.And now I'm telling you something: I guess I can'
t stop you from sellingthe ranch, but if you do, I'll get you somehow, if you live longenough."

  Turkey, as he went down the street from this interview, was in apoisonous temper. His was the impotent rage of youth, which failingexpression in physical violence, finds itself at a complete loss. Thoughhe had said a number of highly insulting things, he was not satisfied.He told himself that he did not care a hoot about Angus, nor about hisown prospective share in the ranch, which would be wiped out by a forcedsale. But he thought it hard luck for Jean. In spite of their quarrel,he recognized that his brother had done most of the work for years. Thethought that a pork-faced old mortgage shark should get the ranch thathad been his father's was bitter.

  However, he did not know what could be done about it. No doubt Angus hadconsulted old Riley. The law was against him. The darn law, Turkeyreflected, was always against the ordinary man, which was not to bewondered at since it was made by darn crooks. Coming such, Turkeyunconsciously sighed for the good, old days of stock which had nospecial respect for the law, as days when dispossession was attended bydifficulties other than legal.

  Under the circumstances, it seemed to Turkey that he should have adrink. To get it he went around the block to a hostelry immediatelybehind Mr. Braden's office. There he had a drink with the proprietor,one Tom Hall. Then Tom had one with him. Five minutes later both had twomore with two strangers. Hall took his drinks from a private bottlewhich contained cold tea. But four drinks of the kind he dispensed tocustomers furnished a very fair foundation. Turkey had nothingparticular to do. Thus the end of a decidedly imperfect day found himgently slumbering in an upstairs room of Tom's place.

  When he awoke it was dark. He did not know where he was, and did notcare. Being young and in perfect health he had not the traditional"splitting head." He was very dry, but that was all. He lay still, andremembered that Tom had helped him to that room, taken off his boots andtold him to sleep it off. Apparently he had.

  The window was open and the night air blew softly upon his face,bringing with it the sound of voices from the next room. He heard thescraping of chairs, the pop of a safety match, the clink of glass. Thenthe voices became more audible, as if the occupants of the room haddrawn closer to the window. Listening idly, Turkey caught his ownsurname. In a moment it was repeated.

  In spite of the adage concerning what listeners are apt to hear ofthemselves, and all honorable theories against eavesdropping, theaverage person hearing his own name will prick up his ears. Turkeyrolled softly out of the bed, and in his stockinged feet went to thewindow.

  It was a rear window, looking out upon the roofs of sheds and the backsof other buildings. The night was dark and, save for a soft breeze,quiet. The first words Turkey heard were calculated to destroy anyscruples.

  "I thought the boys were going to beat Mackay up," said a voice which atfirst he could not identify. Another voice which he knew for Garland'sreplied:

  "They will, later. Blake has it in for him good and plenty."

  "Over that girl on the dry ranch, I s'pose," the other speculated.

  "There's a lot of things."

  "Blake's a darn fool," said the other, and now Turkey knew the voice. Itwas Poole's. "He's too fond of women and booze. He's in a mess rightnow. That klootch wants him to marry her."

  "She's got another guess coming."

  "Well," said Poole judicially, "if he ain't going to marry her, if I washim I'd pull out for a while. Some of her folks might lay for him."

  "She hasn't got any folks but her grandfather."

  "At that, some of these old bucks is bad medicine. Well, it's none ofour funeral. When will the Mackay ranch be sold?"

  "Soon as the old man can work it. I wish we could touch him up for somecoin. I'm broke."

  "Me, too," said Poole. "Trouble is we ain't got nothing on him. Wecouldn't give him away without giving ourselves away, and he knows it.We couldn't prove a darn thing, anyway. _He_ didn't rustle them cattleeither time, nor he didn't blow out Mackay's ditch in the dry spell. Wecouldn't prove that he even knew of them things, let alone framed 'em upand paid for 'em. He'd give us the laugh if we tried to hold him up."

  Turkey, leaning out into the night, listened in amazement. So the stockhad been rustled. The speaker could not refer to anything else. But whatwas this about the ditch? Turkey made a swift deduction which was fairlyaccurate. That was what Angus meant when he had demanded the names ofmen responsible for something unknown to Turkey. Somehow, Angus hadconnected him with it. It must have been through his knife. That musthave been found on the ground, and Angus had naturally assumed that hehad been there. At this point obstinacy had prevented an understanding,set him and Angus at cross-purposes, and led to a fresh quarrel.

  Turkey ground his teeth softly and cursed beneath his breath. So thatwas the stuff that was being put over on Angus. The "old man" must beBraden. For the first time, Turkey began to see clearly through themists of hurt, boyish pride, to perceive realities undistorted byyouthful grievances. Angus might not have been tactful--but he had beenright. And he, Turkey, instead of helping his own had deserted them.

  In Turkey's inner being sounded the rallying call of the blood. It wasno time for family feuds. If he had been a young fool, he would make upfor it. He would play a lone hand, taking his time, and he would playmore than even. But now he must not lose a word.

  "The old man's pretty darn smooth," Poole went on. "Take that time helent Mackay money to make good them bets he was holdin'. That put Mackayfurther in the hole to him. It's lucky Mackay don't know who rapped himon the head and rolled him that night. You get a feller like him on theprod, and I'd rather take chances on a mad grizzly. You take that kidbrother of his, too. There's a bad actor. You can see it in his eye."

  "He's just a young fool," Garland said contemptuously. "He hates hisbrother like poison. I wish he'd blown his head off. There was some sortof a gun play, I know."

  "And that's what I'm tellin' you. The big man would kill a man with hishands, but the kid would go for a gun fast and quiet. If he knew he'dbeen trailed home that night he was full and the stack fired, there'd betrouble."

  "If the stable had gone with the hay it would have thrown a crimp intoMackay. I don't savvy why it didn't go. The wind was right."

  Suddenly the blackness of the back wall of the building opposite wassplit by a slot of light, revealing a railed landing on a level with thesecond story. A bulky figure stepped out and the light disappeared. Camethe creak of wooden steps beneath a heavy body. Garland swore softly.

  "There he is now!"

  "The old man?"

  "Sure. There's an outside flight of steps from the back up to his room.I wonder what he's up to. Douse our light for a minute."

  The light in the next room went out and Turkey drew back. His neighborsevidently occupied the window. From the darkness beneath came the soundof a badly-hung door rasping on its hinges.

  "There's a shed down there he keeps a lot of old plunder in," Garlandobserved.

  A silence of minutes and the door rasped again. Following that came aseries of metallic sounds and once more the creak of steps. The slot oflight of an open doorway appeared again. The bulky figure showed in it,carrying some heavy object hung in its right hand. Then the doorclosed, all but a crack through which a light filtered.

  "He was carrying something," said Garland. "Could you see what it was?"

  "No. Sounded like a milk can or a tin trunk."

  The light went on again in the next room, but the men moved away fromthe window, and Turkey heard no more than odd snatches of conversationwhich were not relevant to his affairs. Listening proving unprofitable,Turkey softly opened his door and carrying his boots went downstairs.Nobody seemed to be about. He went down a hall to a rear door and slidout into the night. Thence he picked his way through the litter of aback yard to the foot of the flight of steps which led to Mr. Braden'sapartments, and leaving his boots at the bottom ascended with greatcare.

  Turkey had identified the object which Mr. Braden had br
ought back withhim as a typewriter in its carrying case. To Turkey it seemedmysterious. Why should Braden who had two perfectly good machines in hisoffice below, go out the back way and bring in a machine from an oldshed? It was funny. But he had made up his mind to find out all he couldabout Braden and his doings, and to start at once. Braden had beenplaying a crooked game right along. If Turkey could catch him inanything--get something on him--it might help to save the ranch. If notthat, it would help him to play even. He put his eye to the crack of thedoor.

  He saw Braden and Godfrey French. They were at a table on which stood atypewriter, and Braden appeared to be signing some legal documents. Theywere talking, but Turkey could not distinguish words. Presently Frenchrose, folded up some papers and put them in an inner pocket. Braden wentwith him to the door which was the ordinary entrance to the apartment,and gave upon a hall and flight of stairs leading down to the office.

  Turkey went down the outside stairs and put on his boots. He wasdisappointed in not being able to over-hear their conversation, but hehad heard a good deal that night.

  What would he do?