by Lee Lejeune
‘This is the Davidson range,’ he said. ‘It might look big but it was a lot bigger when I was young.’
Jacob got out his spy glass and studied the herd. ‘I see two riders down there,’ he said. ‘How many hands does Davidson run?’
Running Deer shrugged. ‘Sometimes no more than six or seven, and sometimes as many as ten, depending on the time of year.’
Jacob was still studying the waddies through his spyglass: ‘I don’t see Stringer down there.’
‘I guess you won’t,’ Running Deer said, ‘but he can’t be far away. Now the other three have gone missing Davidson must guess we’re coming for him. Have you thought about that?’
‘Yes, I’ve thought about it a lot,’ Jacob said. ‘Where is the ranch house?’
Running Deer pointed to the West. ‘It’s over there a piece. If you look down there to your right where those waddies are riding you’ll see the trail that leads right up to it.’
As they rode on, a grim silence fell between them. They were like soldiers riding into a battle where nobody could foresee the end. When they reached the top of the rise, Running Deer raised his hand and the party drew to a halt among the cottonwoods. Running Deer pointed at the plain below. ‘That’s the ranch house.’
Jacob took out his spyglass and studied the panorama. He saw a clapboard building rising grey and majestic from the plain. It was large enough to be called a mansion. In front of it was a fence and an entrance gate with the horns of a longhorn steer over it and an inscription he could just about read: Circle Bar Ranch.
‘Well, that sure is something!’ he murmured.
‘That’s the castle we have to invest,’ Sam said like a medieval knight addressing his squire.
Olsen swung round. ‘You know what you’re riding into?’ he asked. ‘You think Davidson is a fool. If he’s in there he’ll be watching and waiting. You might as well be riding into the jaws of hell itself.’
‘Well, we might be riding into the jaws of the Lord of this World,’ Old Sam piped up, ‘but we have the sword of righteousness in our hands.’
Olsen gave a sneering laugh. ‘You might as well have a fairy’s wand for all the good it will do you!’
‘Well, you’re about to wave that wand, my friend,’ Jacob said, ‘so you might as well make yourself good and ready.’
Olsen gave a croaking laugh. ‘You‘re a bunch of hick fools!’ he said. ‘You have no idea what’s waiting for you down there!’
‘Well, we’re about to find out,’ Jacob replied, ‘so lead the way!’
They jigged their horses forwards and rode down the long and gentle slope towards the ranch.
Jacob held his Winchester across his saddle and Running Deer covered Olsen with his six-gun. Marie rode close to Jacob on his left, and Old Sam rode beside him on his right. Jacob heard Sam humming quietly to himself as though he hadn’t a care in the world. I guess that’s what some folk call faith, he thought.
Jacob turned towards Marie. ‘If there’s any shooting, I want you to take care and keep out of trouble as much as you can. And if you have to use that shooter make sure you aim straight, because this is going to be a matter of kill or be killed.’
As they approached the gate with steer’s horns above it, he was looking at the ranch house and he thought he saw the merest flutter of a curtain at an upstairs window. He half expected to hear a shot as they rode through the entrance gate, but all was menacingly quiet.
‘This is my call,’ Old Sam declared with quiet determination. He rode forwards, and then dismounted and walked up to the grand façade. There was a giant iron knocker in the shape of a steer’s head on the door, and Sam seized it firmly and brought it down heavily three times. They heard the dull thud echoing through the ranch house.
Nobody spoke and nobody challenged the old man. He had asserted his right as an elder and they all waited in respect.
After what seemed like a century Jacob heard footsteps approaching, and he braced himself for whatever was to come. Then the door opened slowly and a dark female face peered out at them.
‘Open up, my dear,’ Sam said quietly. ‘You have nothing to fear.’
The door opened wider to reveal a woman dressed in black clothes with white cuffs and a white lace collar. Her eyes were wide with surprise and fear. ‘Can I help you?’ she stammered.
‘Is the master in?’ Sam asked in a gentle tone.
The woman rolled her eyes and made no reply.
‘What’s your name, my dear?’ Sam asked her.
Her lip trembled. ‘My name’s Mabel,’ she said nervously.
‘Well, now, Mabel, can you tell us where your master is?’ Sam asked her.
She looked past Sam at the others and her eyes seemed to flutter with doubt. ‘Master’s from home,’ she said. She was looking directly at Olsen. Olsen said nothing, but Jacob could see by the slight movement of his body that he was trying to convey a message of some kind.
‘Well, now, Mabel,’ Jacob said, ‘when you see Mr Davidson. will you give him a message from us?’
‘Yes, sir, I will.’ Her lips were trembling even more. In fact her whole face seemed to be in motion.
‘Tell Mr Davidson that Sheriff Olsen has called with an important message, will you?’
‘Yes sir, I will. I’ll tell him Mr Olsen called.’ Her eyes darted towards Olsen and then looked away
‘Are you sure there’s nobody else in the house?’ Sam asked her.
‘Why, sure I’m sure, Master. Mr Jack is out on the ranch some place. Could be a mile or more away for all I know.’
Sam nodded and smiled. ‘Well, be sure to give him the message when he comes home, will you, my dear?’
‘I sure will, Master.’ She pushed the door to and took one final look at them before closing it.
Jacob was looking all round suspiciously, but all he could see were several very fine horses in the corral close to the house.
‘What do you think?’ Marie asked.
‘I think the girl’s lying,’ Jacob said.
‘Of course she’s lying,’ Old Sam interjected. ‘And I don’t blame her either. That poor girl is scared to death.’
‘You’re just a bunch of hick idiots,’ Olsen burst out. ‘Did you expect Davidson to just come to the door and say, “Here I am, gentlemen. I’m ready to give myself up and ride into town to face trial for murder”? D’you think the man’s plumb crazy enough for that?’
Jacob laughed. ‘Well, Sheriff, it seems you know him better than anyone else in this outfit. So maybe you can answer that question yourself.’
Olsen gave a snort. ‘My guess is you’ll all be stiff and dead before sunset.’
‘In that case, what do you guess might happen to you?’ Running Deer asked him.
Olsen shrugged and made no reply.
‘The question is, what do we do now?’ Running Deer said. ‘Do we give up and ride back to town, or do we go down and ask those waddies if they’ve seen the boss?’
‘Well, that’s a fine laugh!’ Olsen crowed. ‘D’you think those boys are gonna spill the beans on anything at all? You might as well talk to your horse’s arse!’
They were riding towards the gate with the steer’s horns. Jacob thought, if Davidson wants us dead all he has to do is lean out of the upstairs window and spray us with a shotgun or shoot us one by one with a buffalo gun. But I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough for that. Nevertheless he looked over his shoulder and saw a top-floor window was open, and as he looked, he saw the faint flutter of a white kerchief. It wouldn’t be Jack Davidson, but it could be the young servant girl giving some kind of signal . . . but to whom?
They were now approaching the gate, which meant they had to bunch together more closely, and that’s when it happened. There was a sharp crack from the cotton woods.
‘It seems we’re under fire,’ Sam said with surprising composure.
Jacob measured the distance with his eye. It was impossible to judge exactly where the shot had come from, but it had
fallen well short of them. ‘Out of range,’ he said. ‘They couldn’t hit us from that distance. It was a warning shot.’
‘What do you figure from that?’ Running Deer asked him.
‘I figure whoever fired that shot wanted us out of here,’ Jacob said.
‘So what do we do?’
‘Well,’ Jacob said, ‘I didn’t come all this way just to turn around and ride back again empty-handed. If I go back, Jack Davidson’s coming with me.’ He levelled his spyglass on the cottonwoods and thought he saw a movement among the trees. It was so faint he couldn’t be sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. ‘I guess I’m going up there to investigate,’ he said.
‘You can’t do that,’ Marie protested. ‘They’ll be watching you all the way and they’ll shoot you.’
‘Not if I shoot them first,’ Jacob said.
Running Deer was looking up at the belt of cottonwoods. ‘If you’re going up there, I’m coming right with you. Two guns are better than one.’
‘Then I’m coming too,’ Marie said.
Jacob swung round in the saddle. ‘Please don’t think of it, Marie. You’ve done more than your share of gunslinging. Stay right here with Sam. If you come with us that’ll be one more target for whoever’s up there.’
Marie looked at him defiantly. ‘Down here could be just as dangerous as up there. We don’t know how many there are, do we?’
Then suddenly Olsen came to life. ‘You want my opinion, that’s Stringer up there and he’s as deadly as a whole nest of rattlesnakes.’
‘That’s why you need to arrest him, Sheriff, and that’s why you’re coming up there with us.’
Olsen curled his lip in contempt, ‘You can’t arrest a man like Stringer without a gun, and I’m unarmed. In any case, he won’t be waiting for you. By now he’ll have got on his horse and ridden away to hell and back.’
‘Well, wherever he’s going I’m following him,’ Jacob said. He turned to Marie again. ‘Stick with Sam and hold that gun of yours ready.’
Jacob and Running Deer rode directly for the cottonwoods until they were within range of whatever Stringer could throw at them. Jacob held Olsen at rope’s length in front of him. If anyone took a shot at him Olsen would also be in the firing line. Jacob had untied the sheriff’s hands so he wasn’t just a sitting duck.
Running Deer said, ‘Two moving targets are better than one. So I’m riding off to the right here – and when we meet at the top of the bluff, don’t shoot me by mistake.’ He laughed and rode off at an angle towards the cottonwoods.
‘OK,’ Olsen said over his shoulder, ‘I’m ready to do whatever’s necessary. I don’t like Stringer any more than you do, and he should swing for what he did to those two innocent people.’
‘Why this sudden change of heart?’ Jacob was about to ask him – but there was a sudden shot from above and Olsen jerked back. His horse reared and galloped away with Olsen still in the saddle.
Jacob had no time to wonder whether Olsen was dead or alive: he just brought his Peacemaker into line and fired. He knew he had little chance of hitting anyone, but at least it might deflect the gunman’s aim. He took a quick look in Running Deer’s direction and saw that he had already disappeared among the cottonwoods.
Jacob rode on recklessly and entered the woods right where he thought Stringer must have been, but there was no sign of him. He dismounted and knelt to read the signs. He found two spent cartridge cases on the ground. He looked up as Running Deer approached between the trees.
‘You were lucky,’ Running Deer told him. ‘That shot was meant for you.’
‘Did you see what happened to Olsen?’ Jacob asked him.
‘Last time I saw him he was riding hell for leather down to your right. He was certainly hit. He might be dead in the saddle or just wounded. So what do we do?’
‘Like I said, there’s no going back. So we ride after Stringer and bring him in. I’m a lucky son of a gun because you’re a whole lot better as a tracker than I shall ever be.’
Running Deer stooped and examined the tracks. ‘Well, it’s not too difficult, Mr Merriweather. Lookee here. This is where Stringer ran back to his horse and this is where it was tethered. Then he mounted up and rode away as fast as he could. He shouldn’t be too far ahead. So follow me.’ He mounted his horse. ‘But take care because with a customer like Stringer anything could happen.’
They rode on between the trees, which became denser. Stringer’s tracks skirted round the dense part and made for the lower ground.
‘He’s headed for the lower ground and my guess he’s leading us into a killing field. Stringer knows this country like the back of his hand. So he knows the best place to trap us and shoot us down. So watch yourself, Mr Merriweather, because this is gonna be some picnic.’ A few paces later he held up his hand and they stopped. They had reached the edge of the wood. Running Deer dismounted and surveyed the terrain ahead. ‘Lookee there.’ He pointed through the trees. ‘Luckily I know this country as well. Probably a lot better. If we ride down there we might just as well ask to be fried because we’ll be riding right where he wants us to be.’
Jacob was scanning the country below through his spyglass. The land fell away in a series of humps to the plain below. He moved his spyglass to the right where there were several commanding heights that looked down on to the flat country. He saw no sign of Stringer or anyone else.
‘Give me that glass,’ Running Deer said. Jacob handed over the spyglass and Running Deer looked towards the commanding heights. ‘Yes, yes,’ he muttered to himself. ‘That’s where they’ll be.’
‘You mean Stringer isn’t alone?’ Jacob asked him.
Running Deer shook his head. ‘My guess is there could be others, maybe a whole bunch of them.’ He handed back the spyglass and Jacob focused it on the commanding position where Stringer would be concealed. ‘So, we could be in deep shit here,’ he speculated.
‘Well, if we ride down there we’ll be in Stringer’s sights all the way, but we’re not gonna do that, Mr Merriweather. I know a better way.’ Running Deer pointed way to the right where the bluff rose even higher. ‘We go that way. If we keep to the high ground we can come out above them.’
‘Can we do that?’ Jacob asked him.
Running Deer nodded and grinned. ‘Follow me, Mr Merriweather, and don’t hurry. We don’t want to show our hand until we have to.’ He turned his horse back into the cottonwoods and rode cautiously on.
Jacob followed him closely as they climbed to the high country.
CHAPTER NINE
Jacob was glad Running Deer was leading the way. This land was in the marrow of his bones and Jacob couldn’t help wondering how he had become so deeply embedded in so-called civilized culture. From the way Running Deer let his horse amble along you would have thought he was simply taking the air on a quiet Sunday afternoon, except that he paused occasionally to raise his head and sniff the air as though whatever lay ahead might be wafted on the air towards them.
Then he stopped and motioned to Jacob. Jacob drew up beside him and Running Deer spoke to him as quietly as the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.
‘Now we leave the forest and ride up to the right of this bluff ahead. It might seem a long way off our track, but it leads us behind and above where Stringer will be. But we’ll wait here a piece so the horses can take a bite of grass and get their wind.’ He dismounted and clamped his pipe between his teeth. But he didn’t light up. ‘The wind is coming from over the top of the hill, but we won’t take any chances.’
The two men squatted down and rested briefly while the horses grazed in the long grass at the edge of the forest.
Jacob thought of Marie and Sam Critchley back at the ranch house, and wondered how they were faring. Running Deer looked at him and nodded as though he read his thoughts.
‘That woman has a lot of grit,’ he said. ‘I’ve known her quite some time but I’ve never seen before quite how strong she is.’ He smiled. ‘Meeting you has made all th
e difference, Mr Merriweather. It’s kind of brought her out, if you understand me.’
‘Well, Running Deer, it’s kind of brought me out, too. And by the way, don’t keep calling me Mr Merriweather. Makes me feel sort of superior.’
‘OK, Jake.’ Running Deer held out his hand and they shook. ‘I guess we’d better ride on and get this thing all rolled up and sorted out.’
They mounted up and rode on. Now they were clear of the cottonwoods Running Deer rode more cautiously, watching for signs all the way. They rode to the high ground, keeping the bluff on their left. It seemed a long way to Jacob, but Running Deer knew his business and Jacob was glad to follow. Once Running Deer held up his hand and listened, and they heard the distant whinnying of a horse.
As they drew close to the top of the bluff, Running Deer held up his hand again and paused, and Jacob drew in beside him. ‘Tell you something, Jake. We’re not alone, so keep your gun handy.’
Jacob drew his Peacemaker and held it steady. Suddenly a figure appeared before them. It wasn’t Stringer or Jack Davidson: it was a man Jacob had never seen before. He was tall in the saddle and he was dressed in range clothes – and he held a six-shot Remington in his hand.
‘Well, now,’ the man said, ‘look what we have here.’ There was a note of sarcasm in his voice and he was smiling, but it was none too friendly a smile.
Jacob drew alongside Running Deer. Running Deer’s advice had been timely. So Jacob held his Peacemaker level.
‘You just out for a ride, or have you something particular in mind?’ the man asked in the same sarcastic tone.
Running Deer nodded. ‘What’s particular?’ he asked.
The man grinned. ‘Particular is the fact you’re on private land. Maybe you didn’t know that.’
Jacob tightened his grip on his gun. ‘As a matter of fact, we have an appointment with Mr Davidson, but it seems he isn’t at home right now.’
The man looked at Jacob and nodded. ‘And who would you be? You look like a lawyer and you talk like a lawyer, but I see you’re carrying a shooter.’