Flame Across the Land

by Colin Bainbridge

  ‘Need,’ she repeated. ‘That sounds quite serious.’

  Seaton was struggling to reply, but she saved him the effort by getting to her feet.

  ‘Coffee,’ she said. ‘I think we might both use a cup.’

  She walked across the room and through a door leading to what Seaton guessed was the kitchen. While she was gone he tried to think of the best way to explain to her what he was doing there, beginning to wish he hadn’t come while at the same time feeling there was nowhere else he would rather be. After a few minutes she reappeared carrying a tray on which stood a pot of coffee and two matching porcelain cups and a jar. She placed the tray on a table and proceeded to pour.

  ‘Milk?’ she asked.

  ‘No thank you. I’ll take it black.’

  She handed him the cup and sat down before taking up her own. ‘I don’t know your first name,’ she said.

  It was a remark Seaton hadn’t been expecting. ‘It’s Fark,’ he replied. He expected her to show some reaction, but if the name sounded strange to her she didn’t show it. She smiled and lifting the coffee to her lips, took a sip before speaking.

  ‘May I ask you something? Your visit here; has it anything to do with the Mill Iron?’

  Seaton returned her glance and their eyes held each other for just a moment longer than was necessary.

  ‘No, it hasn’t,’ he replied. ‘But might I ask you the reason you thought it might be?’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, dropping her eyes, ‘I shouldn’t really have said anything. It’s really none of my business. But I’ve been very concerned about my father recently. Normally he’s very relaxed and easy going, but just lately he’s changed. He’s become tense and withdrawn and I’m sure it has something to do with the Mill Iron. He likes to keep the running of the ranch his private concern, but I’m sure the owner of the Mill Iron wants to extend his property by buying the Lazy Ladder.’

  ‘Is the owner of the Mill Iron a man by the name of Brandon?’

  She glanced at him again. ‘How did you know that?’ she asked.

  ‘I heard some talk. From what I gather, he’s quite a big noise in the county.’

  A faint look of distaste touched her fine features. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘In a way I suppose the town owes him quite a lot, but I don’t like him. My father would never sell the Lazy Ladder, but I can see that he’s worried.’ Suddenly her poise seemed to waver. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t be talking to you like this. After all, you’re almost a stranger.’

  ‘I appreciate your confidence and you can rest assured that I have no connection with the Mill Iron. I came to see your father on a different matter entirely. There was an incident in which a friend of mine, an old sheepherder, was attacked by some men. I am just trying to find out who they were.’

  The look of concern on her face was suddenly replaced by one of indignation.

  ‘My father would never be involved in anything of that nature,’ she exclaimed, ‘and neither would any of his employees. I think you must have come to the wrong place.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Seaton said, ‘I didn’t mean to imply anything. My only starting point is that it’s well known that cattle ranchers and sheepmen don’t tend to see eye to eye.’

  ‘If any cattle ranchers, as you put it, are responsible for the attack on your friend, it wouldn’t be my father,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure of that,’ he replied.

  She took another sip of coffee and when she looked at him again, she seemed to have resumed her previous attitude.

  ‘You must feel some affection for this old man,’ she said, ‘if you’re prepared to take up his cause. I do hope he wasn’t injured.’

  ‘Nope, at least not seriously, but most of his sheep were killed.’

  Seaton finished his cup of coffee. He felt that the time had come for him to make his departure but at the same time was reluctant to do so. Placing his cup on the table, he rose to his feet.

  ‘It’s been very nice talking to you, Miss Montgomery,’ he said, ‘but I mustn’t impose on you further.’

  She uttered a little rippling laugh.

  ‘Of course you’re not imposing,’ she said. ‘Why not stay and have another cup of coffee? My father should be back before long. It would be a pity for you to come all this way and not see him.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Seaton replied, ‘maybe another time.’

  ‘I hope so,’ she replied. She got to her feet and they walked together to the door where he stood for a moment before putting on his Stetson.

  ‘I’ll tell him you called,’ she said.

  He went outside, and untying his horse, swung into the saddle.

  ‘Thank you for all the hospitality,’ he said.

  Touching his hand to the brim of his hat, he swung the horse round and headed out of the yard. When he looked back, she was still standing on the veranda watching him. She lifted her hand and waved and he waved to her in return. Then he settled in the saddle and rode away. His mind was racing and he was torn by a conflict of emotions. In a sense he had achieved nothing by coming to the Lazy Ladder, or at least nothing firm and concrete. But of one thing, intuitively, he was sure. The Lazy Ladder was innocent of the attack on Utah.

  Chapter Four

  The line cabin in which Utah Red had taken shelter for the night was little better than a dugout, but as far as he was concerned it was positively luxurious. He was used to spending his nights in a flimsy tent or out in the open, and to sleep on a mattress, however dirty and worn, was a rare treat. Recent events had worn him down so it was no surprise that when he woke, the sun was already high. Although he had slept well, his head felt heavy and he flinched away from the light that poured down on him through a cracked windowpane. Dragging himself upright, he stumbled outside to relieve himself and then returned inside to make something to eat. In one corner of the cabin stood a small wood-burning stove propped up with a stack of flat rocks where one leg was missing, and a few logs. Lifting the lid, he scraped about among some cold grey ashes before putting in some kindling and wood and lighting a fire. He put a pot of water on the back and threw in a few coffee grounds before rummaging through his meagre supplies, which he had brought in with him the previous night, and placing a slab of sowbelly in a battered frying pan. While it was cooking he went back out and grained the skewbald.

  While he was eating, he thought about what his next move should be but still couldn’t arrive at a definite plan. He was beginning to regret his decision to part with Seaton. What was he doing now? He had said he would return at some point with fresh supplies. How would Seaton react when he found he was gone? Finishing his meal, he got to his feet and walked to the door. Suddenly he tensed. A rider was approaching. He was still some way off, but he was definitely heading for the line cabin. He cursed under his breath for having lighted the stove. It was probably the smoke that had attracted the man’s attention. He turned back inside the cabin and began to gather his things together but quickly realized there was no way he would be able to get away before the man arrived. All he could do would be to pretend he had lost his way and sought shelter for the night. It was almost the truth. Normally, his presence there wouldn’t have presented any problems, but he had more than enough experience of the Lazy Ladder’s methods to fear the worst. No, his only chance was to take the offensive. Quickly, he grabbed his Paterson where it stood against the wall, and took up a position next to the window.

  The rider came slowly on. Utah’s eyes weren’t as sharp as they once were, and he screwed them up in the effort to see more clearly. As the man got closer, it seemed to him that there was something vaguely familiar about him and his pulses quickened. Could he be one of the men who had attacked him and killed his sheep? One of the men he was looking for? If so, he would have no regrets about shooting him. Who else could it be? But he had only had a brief sight of the men concerned; he couldn’t be sure, not sufficiently sure to pull the trigger unless he really had to. But if he waited till the man revealed hi
s identity, it would be too late. He licked his lips and his finger tightened on the trigger.

  When he was still some distance away, the man brought his horse to a halt and, cupping his mouth with his hand, shouted, ‘Utah Red! Is that you in there?’

  The oldster didn’t reply. He was puzzled. How did the man know his name? Was it some kind of trick? The man repeated his call, and when there was no response, carried on riding. He wasn’t being careful in any way and showed no hint of apprehension. He certainly wasn’t taking any precautions against a hostile reception – quite the opposite. He came steadily on, riding at the same pace, but it was only when he had almost reached the line cabin that the oldster recognized him.

  ‘Me oh my!’ he muttered to himself. ‘If it ain’t Fark Seaton!’

  Laying the gun aside, he moved to the door and stepped outside. Seaton’s reaction on seeing him was one of surprise.

  ‘Utah!’ he exclaimed. ‘What in tarnation are you doin’ here? I thought I’d left you at the diggin’s! I thought I recognized that old skewbald.’ He slid from the saddle and, coming together, they embraced.

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ Utah said.

  Seaton took a glance at the cabin. ‘Is that coffee I can smell?’ he said.

  The oldster grinned. ‘Sure is. I just finished a pot, but it won’t take but a few minutes to brew up a fresh one.’

  Seaton fastened the chestnut and they went inside. ‘Nice place you got here,’ he said.

  He flung himself into a broke-back chair while the oldster did the honours. In no time at all they were drinking strong black coffee and enjoying the acrid taste of Seaton’s tobacco.

  ‘OK,’ Seaton said. ‘You go first. I figure you’ve got some explainin’ to do.’

  Utah gave a brief account of his activities, and when he reached the part about the rustlers, he really caught Seaton’s attention.

  ‘You’re sure about what you saw?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, of course. I’ve been around long enough to know when somethin’s afoot.’

  ‘You figure you can find the spot?’

  ‘Sure. It ain’t any distance. But I shouldn’t think you’ll find anythin’.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Seaton replied, ‘but we should be able to pick out the rustler’s sign.’

  Utah looked at him questioningly. ‘Before we do that,’ he said, ‘I figure you’ve got some explainin’ to do too.’

  Seaton’s account was brief and to the point. It wasn’t only that he didn’t want to get bogged down in details, but he didn’t know what to make of it all himself. When he had finished the oldster shook his head.

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ he said. ‘You say the Sheepmen’s Association building was empty? I guess that’s why I never received any supplies. So what could have happened to Brown?’

  ‘Brown?’ Seaton asked.

  ‘Brown is the man who gave me the job.’

  Seaton’s interest was aroused. ‘What did this man Brown look like?’

  The oldster shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, ‘it’s hard to say.’

  ‘Was he young? Was he old? There must be somethin’.’

  ‘He was about your age, I reckon. I can’t remember anythin’ much about him. He was kinda average, I guess.’

  Seaton gave the oldster an exasperated look. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I guess it doesn’t much matter. He’s probably far away by now. Still, if there was a chance of him still bein’ around, it might be interestin’ to hear what he has to say.’

  ‘I guess so, but nothin’ you’ve said means that the Lazy Ladder couldn’t be involved in all this.’

  ‘I just don’t see it,’ Seaton replied.

  ‘OK, but if it wasn’t the Lazy Ladder, then who is responsible?’

  ‘That’s why it would be interestin’ to hear what your man Brown has to say. By the way, isn’t it kind of a coincidence that he’s called Brown and you can’t seem to recall much about him?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘He seems to be pretty anonymous all round. What’s the bettin’ that Brown isn’t his real name? Maybe I’m talkin’ nonsense, but it could be he knew he was puttin’ himself in the way of danger tryin’ to introduce sheep into the area. But leavin’ that aside, just think about somethin’ else for a moment. What other name seems to be croppin’ up?’

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

  ‘Brandon. He seems to be the big man round these parts, but I get the impression folks don’t like him. Now he wants to acquire the Lazy Ladder, the very ranch that seems to be involved with tryin’ to drive you out. Don’t you think that’s somethin’ of a coincidence?’

  The oldster still looked puzzled. ‘They were doin’ more than tryin’ to drive me out,’ he replied. ‘If you hadn’t have come along when you did, I figure I’d be dead by now.’

  Seaton was thoughtful. ‘What do you reckon?’ he asked. ‘Somebody who’d rustle cattle wouldn’t be likely to draw the line at stealin’ horses.’

  A dawning light glimmered in the oldster’s eyes. ‘That horse they left behind,’ he said. ‘It carried a Lazy Ladder brand.’

  ‘That’s right, but that doesn’t mean the Lazy Ladder was involved. What if those cattle rustlers are horse thieves too?’

  The oldster nodded his head slowly. ‘Yeah. I think I see what you’re drivin’ at. Then that would mean. . . .’

  ‘Exactly. Whoever was responsible for the horse thievin’ and the cattle rustlin’ would be behind it all.’

  ‘It doesn’t necessarily follow.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t, but it’s a good bet.’

  Seaton swallowed the last of the coffee and got to his feet. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s you and me take a look at where you figure you saw the rustlin’ goin’ on. Those varmints must have left tracks. We don’t need to speculate about who might be responsible. If we can follow their trail, we should have some answers.’

  A short time later they set off, Seaton riding the chestnut and Utah his pinto. As they rode slowly along, Seaton kept his eyes on the ground, searching for any sign the rustlers would have left. It was likely that they had covered a decent amount of ground and he didn’t want to rely on the oldster’s sense of direction. It was night when he had observed the rustlers, and it would be no fault of his if he were a little imprecise in his calculations. He had misjudged the oldster, however, because they hadn’t gone too far when they found what they were looking for. In order to maximise their chances of finding something, they had split up and were riding at a little distance from each other when Utah began to shout.

  ‘Over here! I think I’ve found somethin’!’

  Seaton rode over. Utah had got down from the skewbald and was examining the ground. It didn’t take much skill in the art of tracking, however, to realize that riders had passed that way. The ground was churned up by hoofs and it was apparent that it wasn’t only horses that had made them.

  ‘Some of those marks were made by cow critters,’ Utah said, ‘and they were on the run.’

  Seaton felt a surge of excitement run through him. ‘You figure you can follow the trail?’ he asked. ‘I ain’t so good at trackin’.’

  ‘I reckon so,’ the oldster replied. ‘Leastways, for the time bein’.’

  ‘OK. Looks like we’re on to somethin’. Let’s get goin’.’

  Utah pulled a wry face. ‘How do you know they weren’t made by some of the Lazy Ladder boys?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but they’re right here where you figure you saw those riders last night and it looks like whoever made ’em was runnin’ down cattle. It doesn’t look to me like they were left by any Lazy Ladder cowpokes.’

  The oldster grunted in assent and they remounted. Following the sign was quite easy; apart from the prints left on the grass, there was plenty of evidence in the form of droppings.

  ‘My hunch is that the trail will lead us right to the Mill Iron if we can follow it to the end,’ Seaton remarked. ‘Have yo
u any idea in which direction it is?’

  The oldster shook his head. ‘I ain’t altogether sure, but from what I’ve heard, I figure this way is probably about right.’

  As they rode, they saw cattle, but gradually their numbers began to thin. The terrain became more broken with clumps of thickets and underbrush.

  ‘Brush bustin’ country,’ Utah remarked.

  ‘Yeah. I’ve worked this type of terrain in my time, and it ain’t easy.’

  It became more difficult to follow the trail and from time to time they had to stop and dismount to take a closer look at the sign. There were times when Seaton found it hard to discern anything at all, but the oldster proved his mettle.

  ‘I done some scoutin’ once,’ he said. ‘A long time ago. I guess you don’t forget these things.’

  ‘Who was that for?’ Seaton asked. ‘Old Hickory?’

  The oldster grinned but didn’t elucidate. They carried on riding, going slowly, matching the chestnut’s pace to that of the pinto. The sun sank low in the sky and the shadows of evening were gathering when Seaton rode close to the oldster.

  ‘It’s gettin’ too hard to make things out. We’d better think about settin’ up camp,’ he said.

  ‘Suits me,’ Utah replied. ‘I reckon the horses would appreciate a rest too.’

  They rode a little further till they saw a suitable spot where a rivulet rippled by in the shade of some bushes.

  ‘We must have left the Lazy Ladder behind,’ Utah said.

  ‘Yeah. A while ago I reckon.’

  To the right of them the land rose gradually to meet a low line of hills in the distance.

  ‘My sheep are up there,’ the oldster mused.

  ‘They’ll be OK.’

  Seaton wasn’t sure whether they would be or not. He had intended to arrange for someone to go up there to mind them, but since the Sheepmen’s Association headquarters was closed down, he hadn’t been able to. He remembered the sound of the wolf howling the night he had spent there with the oldster. Whether Utah was thinking similar thoughts he couldn’t tell. Since the shooting he seemed to have lost some of his interest in the sheep. It was as though something inside him had been lost when they died. Had it been replaced by his desire for revenge?