Shadow of the Gallows

by Steven Grey

  Even so Cobb liked, and was good at, his job and didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. Because Mr Bellington liked his men to look tidy and dress neatly, his dark-brown hair was cut short and he was clean-shaven. He wore sombre suits and white shirts and kept his boots polished.

  As well as not allowing his employees to object to what they did and where they went, Mr Bellington had a number of rules for them to obey. While Cobb tried not to break any of them he had broken the one that said the detectives should not, under any circumstances, knowingly consort with outlaws. Neil Travis couldn’t exactly be called an outlaw but he had once been a petty thief. And while he couldn’t be called a thief any longer either, Mr Bellington would probably not appreciate the distinction and would, if he ever found out, disapprove to say the least.

  Cobb still couldn’t quite understand why he’d made the offer to Neil that he should accompany him on his detective work. The young man’s dress and looks certainly weren’t up to standard, with his long brown hair, wispy moustache and untidy clothes. But since Neil had nearly died in a fight with the Kelman gang, Cobb knew he was used to his company and, even worse, actually liked him. Not that he’d admit that to anyone and certainly never to Neil.

  ‘Did you know this Tom Steadman?’ Neil asked, after peering out of the window again.

  ‘Only slightly. He left soon after I joined the agency. He’d got fed up with travelling around the country all the time and wanted to put down roots. But from what I heard he was a skilled detective. And well liked.’

  ‘So you don’t believe he killed this homesteader?’

  ‘It does sound surprising but then, as I say, I didn’t know him at all well and in, what, six or seven years a man can change. Become someone else to who he once was. After he left the agency I never learned what became of him.’ Cobb paused. ‘The important thing is Mr Bellington believes he’s innocent.’

  And wanted it proved. And the hanging stopped.

  ‘It’s a pity Steadman didn’t contact Mr Bellington earlier. I could have reached Newberry before the trial. Heard the evidence for myself.’ As it was, the man had waited until he was found guilty and sentenced to death. Almost three days had been wasted since receiving Steadman’s plea for help in making arrangements to come to Newberry and actually travelling to the town.

  ‘Maybe he thought he’d be found innocent,’ Neil suggested. ‘And perhaps as he’s now asked for help that does mean he is innocent.’

  Cobb hoped so. Mr Bellington believed he knew people and what they were capable of and he wouldn’t be at all pleased to know he was wrong and that Steadman was, in fact, guilty of murder.

  ‘If he didn’t shoot Bannister someone did.’

  Cobb didn’t say anything about that being obvious.

  ‘So you might find something to show who that was.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Prove someone else guilty would prove Steadman innocent.

  ‘I wonder if he had a fair trial.’ Neil didn’t have much faith in the law or judges.

  ‘That is something else I’ll have to try to discover. It was held before a Judge Bowyer. I can’t say I know anything about him, good or bad. Ah, looks like we’re slowing down.’

  Neil stood up, reaching for their bags stowed in the overhead rack.

  Before long some ramshackle buildings came into view. By the railroad tracks was a water-tower, a platform and a tiny office. That was all. Otherwise, the halt was slap bang in the middle of nowhere. With a wail of its whistle the train came to a shuddering stop.

  For such a small place it was surprising for Cobb and Neil to find they weren’t the only passengers getting off while several people waited to get on.

  They stepped down off the platform onto a narrow, dusty road running between a couple of saloons and a tent offering card games. Then came some empty lots before the last building which was a barn with a corral by it, in which were several horses.

  Neil rather hoped they could go into one of the saloons for a drink and, more importantly, something to eat. It seemed a long time since they’d eaten at the last train halt. But Cobb was in a hurry to reach Newberry and he walked towards the barn without pausing. It looked to Neil like it was going to be a long time before they ate again.

  In front of the barn two horses were tied to the hitching rail. They were sweating as if they had been ridden hard and quite a distance, but there was no sign of their riders, nor of anyone else. Cobb pushed open the door and he and Neil stepped out of the glare of the sunlight into the barn’s coolness. It was divided into six stalls, three on either side of a large open area, and was full of the smell of hay and horses.

  ‘Hallo,’ Cobb called. ‘Anybody here?’

  The only answer was a shot! A bullet whizzed by Cobb’s ear and embedded itself in a bale of hay.

  ‘Look out!’

  Cobb acted swiftly and instinctively. He gave Neil a violent shove that sent him sprawling towards the nearest stall. At the same time he dropped to the floor and squirmed towards the safety of the opposite stall. He was chased all the way by more shots, which kicked up little puffs of dust at his heels. Reaching the partition wall, he glanced across at Neil, thankful to see he was unhurt, and quickly took stock of the situation. The shots were coming from the back of the barn and there were two attackers, probably the riders of the horses out front.

  He pulled out his gun and fired back, although he couldn’t see a target. More bullets kept him pinned down. This could go on forever. Looking across he saw Neil on his knees also prepared to fire if he could find someone to shoot at. Cobb signalled him to stay where he was, pointing at himself and at the barn door. Neil nodded to show he understood.

  Taking a deep breath Cobb jumped up and raced for the door. At the same time Neil fired fast and wildly, hoping to keep their assailants occupied. Cobb reached the door, leapt through it and slammed it shut behind him, feeling it shake as it was struck by several bullets. Without stopping he raced round the side of the barn, jumped the rail of the corral and flattened himself against the barn wall. The horses shifted about nervously but they took no notice of him. Listening to the shooting which was still going on, he inched his way along the wall until he reached the rear door. By his reckoning the two men should be somewhere close by on its other side.

  Slowly and carefully he pushed the door open with the barrel of his gun. No shots greeted him. Hopefully the men didn’t realize what he was doing, perhaps they thought he had run away.

  He peered inside. Yes, there they were! Still occupied. Not quite sure of what was going on. Looking at one another. Looking towards where Neil was. But not thinking to look behind them.

  ‘Hold it right there!’ Cobb yelled.

  With cries of shock the men stopped firing and glanced round.

  ‘Get to your feet and throw down your guns.’

  For a moment it seemed as if the men would do as they were told. Then the one nearest Cobb flung himself sideways and raised his gun. Before he could fire, Cobb shot first. Cobb’s bullet struck his assailant full in the face. With a strangled scream the man grabbed at the wound even as he fell on his back. He kicked his legs once or twice and was quiet. Cobb turned from him. The second man was bringing his gun up.

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  It did no good. The man fired once, twice. He was scared, Cobb could see the fear in his eyes, the way his hand and arm shook. The bullets missed.

  But the next one might not and Cobb was left with no choice. He took steady aim and pulled the trigger. In a spray of blood the man collapsed behind the hay bale he’d been sheltering against. He groaned once, that was all.

  Still holding his gun, Cobb entered the barn and looked down at the men. Both were dead. Neil joined him.

  ‘Wonder who they were,’ he said.

  ‘And what they wanted.’ Cobb was annoyed he’d had to shoot them before getting the answers to both questions.

  Just then several men shoved their way through the barn doors.

 
‘What’s goin’ on here?’ one of them asked, as he pushed his way to the front and stared down at the two corpses.

  ‘I might ask you the same.’ Cobb holstered his gun. ‘We came in here and these two men started shooting at us. Anyone recognize them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who owns the barn?’

  ‘I do.’ It was the man at the forefront of the crowd.

  ‘What about the horses out front?’

  ‘Never seen ’em before either,’ the man said with a couldn’t-care-less shrug.

  ‘Did these men want to hire more horses?’

  ‘Nope, at least I dunno. I wasn’t here when they arrived.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Down at the saloon. Can’t be here all the time. I guess they must’ve been thieves and when they spotted you and your companion they thought you’d be easy to rob.’

  ‘These things happen sometimes,’ another man said. ‘’Specially in an out-of-the-way place like this where we ain’t got no law.’

  ‘Seems like they was wrong,’ someone else said, with a chuckle.

  Cobb knew he was unlikely to get any answers here. And, of course, these men might be right.

  ‘I’ve got somewhere to go,’ he said. And he was anxious to be on his way. He didn’t want to waste any more time. Every minute would count if he was to prove Steadman innocent. ‘Can I leave it to you to bury these two?’

  ‘Yeah, OK.’

  ‘And I need to hire two of your best horses.’

  ‘OK.’

  As the crowd drifted away now the excitement was over, Cobb caught hold of Neil’s arm.

  ‘I want you to stay here. Find out if anyone knows who these men were and where they came from.’

  Neil looked down at the two dead men. ‘You don’t think they were just out to rob us then?’

  ‘That’d be the simple answer.’

  Neil knew Cobb was sometimes suspicious of simple answers.

  ‘But their horses sure had been ridden hard as if the men were in a hurry.’

  ‘But how would anyone have known we were coming here? Or when we’d arrive?’

  Cobb shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Just see what you can learn. Then come on to Newberry, all right?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was late afternoon when the outskirts of Newberry came into view. The trail from the railroad halt led in more or less a straight line across the valley, climbing all the while towards the foothills. Soon Cobb found himself in ranch country, herds of cattle grazing on the sparse grass, a line of sycamore trees in the distance indicating the presence of a stream. It was hot, the sun shining out of a cloudless sky, with barely the hint of a breeze

  As he rode through a busy business district it soon became obvious that Newberry was a reasonably prosperous town. Several stores, a bank, a hotel and the marshal’s office and small courthouse were situated around a well-kept plaza. Down side streets were a couple of boarding-houses, a school and a church. The buildings were made of adobe and overhangs provided welcome shade. Further work was going on here and there. Plenty of people were about and horses and buckboards crowded the dusty roads.

  Although Cobb was tired and hungry he decided to visit Marshal Jackson before he did anything else. He was anxious to find out exactly what had happened and what evidence Jackson had discovered to make him arrest Steadman.

  The marshal’s office appeared to be fairly new. It had a yard at one side out of view of the cells. It was here that a gallows was already being built: out of sight but not out of the hearing of the prisoner.

  Cobb dismounted, tied his horse to the hitching rail and went into the cool jailhouse. A young man was sitting at one of the two desks. Another older man, in his sixties, with grey hair and a grey beard and wrinkles round his eyes and mouth sat at the other.

  The young man looked up and said, ‘Help you?’

  ‘Marshal Jackson?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m Zachary Cobb from Bellington’s.’

  ‘Oh yeah. I got the message you were on your way. Owen Jackson.’ He stood up to shake Cobb’s hand. He was about twenty-eight, of middle height with bushy brown hair and blue eyes. Both his clothes and his gun were well-worn. ‘This is Bob Sparks, my jailer.’

  Cobb nodded at the old man. Jackson also nodded at him and Sparks hitched up his trousers and left the jailhouse to allow the two lawmen to have their conversation in private.

  ‘Pull up a chair, sit down. Would you like some coffee? It’s freshly brewed.’

  ‘Please.’

  After Jackson had poured out two mugs of coffee, he sat in his chair and leant forward on his arms. He said, ‘Look, let’s get it straight from the start: I ain’t got any problem with you coming here trying to prove Steadman innocent; I’ll give you any help I can, but let me also say straight off I think he’s guilty and he was convicted after a fair trial. The evidence convinced Judge Bowyer and a jury.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Cobb would do his job whatever the circumstances, but it always helped if the local law had no objection to his presence. He drank some of the coffee, which was hot and very strong. ‘Perhaps you would start by telling me the background to the situation?’

  ‘Sure.’ Jackson paused to gather his thoughts then went on, ‘This is cattle country, mostly open range. You probably noticed that on your ride up here.’

  Cobb nodded.

  ‘There are a number of large ranches roundabout most of which were started soon after the Civil War ended. They’ve always done well. Lately, over the past five or six years, farmers, homesteaders I mean, have been taking advantage of the offer of title to a hundred and sixty acres to move in.’

  ‘And the ranchers don’t like that?’ Cobb knew that ranchers often resented the intrusion on to their lands of farmers and their fences. Believed that as it had always been open range that’s the way it should stay.

  ‘No, not particularly,’ Jackson said in agreement. ‘In fact, it was the coming of the homesteaders that decided the ranchers to set up a Cattlemen’s Association. It doesn’t just exist to protect the ranchers’ interests against the farmers but that’s its main aim.’

  ‘And Tom Steadman was employed as a detective?’

  ‘Almost from the start. He was known to one or two of the ranchers as a good man with a gun, and his reputation was helped by him coming from Bellington’s. He seemed a sensible choice and for most of the time he’s done a good, fair job. Oh, some of the farmers objected to his methods but they had no real complaint. He went up against known rustlers and mostly left the rest alone.’ Jackson paused for a moment. ‘Given the circumstances, both groups rubbed along fairly well. It’s only recently that there’ve been complaints about Steadman’s behaviour, that he’s been using unnecessary violence, as well as accusations about ordinary farmers rustling cattlemen’s stock.’

  ‘When did all this start’?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It just seemed that a lot of small things suddenly added up to real big trouble.’

  ‘But why? Something must have happened to change things.’

  ‘I know,’ Jackson agreed with a little frown. ‘But there ain’t anything I can put my finger on. Things certainly ain’t been helped by a couple of bad seasons. It’s always dry down here near the desert as we are, but we’ve had hardly any rain for well over a year. Things are getting desperate. For everybody. There’s jealously and anger where a farmer has fenced off water that a rancher believes was, in the days of the free range, once his own and should still be free to everyone who needs it. And anger too from the farmers when they believe the ranchers ain’t taking any notice of their ownership of the land. Each side thinks it has right on its side.’

  ‘And now the cattlemen are accusing the farmers of wholesale rustling.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘With any justification? Is there any truth to all these accusations?’

  ‘There are faults on both sides.’ Jackson raised his h
ands. ‘The farmers ain’t perfect and some are surely not above rustling for profit as opposed to taking a cow to feed their family. But the ranchers are making too much of a situation that once they might not have taken any notice of at all.’

  ‘And had Steadman become too violent in trying to uphold the ranchers’ interests?’

  Jackson shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

  It was a scene set for trouble. Range wars had started over much less.

  ‘What about the man who was killed?’

  ‘Ralph Bannister.’ Jackson sighed and stood up to refill their coffee mugs. ‘He was part of the trouble. He was a real hot head, always going around saying how the farmers were as good as the ranchers. Said the farmers had as much right to the land as anybody else. And, of course, so they do. It was the way he kept goin’ on about it, all of the time. I warned him more’n once that he was making a bad situation worse. Things were hardly helped because his farm included a waterhole that so far has showed no sign of drying up and which he refused to let any of his neighbours use. But he wouldn’t listen. He was trying to get the farmers to stand together against the ranchers.’

  ‘Was he succeeding?’

  ‘Partly. Especially amongst the younger ones. One or two of the older farmers tried to keep a lid on the situation but they were beginning to fail. I tell you, Mr Cobb, I didn’t like it, I could foresee a helluva fight coming our way, but I’m the town marshal not the county sheriff and there wasn’t much I could do except try to keep the two sides separate.’

  ‘But you didn’t succeed because Bannister was shot and killed. Or did that solve some of your problems?’

  Jackson frowned and said angrily, ‘I certainly wasn’t happy about it.’

  ‘All right, I’m sorry.’ Cobb didn’t want to annoy Jackson unnecessarily. And from first impressions he appeared a good man, not one to condone murder, even one that might help him keep the peace, or one to railroad an innocent man because it was convenient. ‘Was Steadman your first suspect?’

  ‘About my only one as it turned out, yeah.’