by Steven Grey
‘We’ve gotta let ’em know we mean business.’ That was one of the other three.
‘See what happens first before you go off and do anything rash.’ Martin risked more jeers. ‘I’m sure Jackson means to hang Steadman. Ain’t he building the gallows?’
That at least gave Peter pause.
‘Look,’ Martin went on, before anyone else could speak, ‘I don’t like the idea of the ranchers doing us down without any reason, I certainly didn’t like the cowardly way Ralph was shot from ambush and I agree that we must stick together. Fight back when it’s necessary. But only then. We don’t want to give Marshal Jackson any reason to arrest us. That’ll only help the ranchers, not us.’
Peter sighed. He supposed his younger brother was right. He usually was, dammit! But it was difficult sometimes to just sit back and do nothing, especially when he was sure right was on his side.
‘OK. For now. But I tell you, Martin, if it looks like Steadman is goin’ to get away with killing Ralph I’ll be the first in line with a rope.’
‘And I’ll be right behind you,’ David added. He suddenly sounded sleepy while one of the others yawned widely, setting off everyone else.
Behind the bar, Chadwin was beginning to hope things were going to turn out all right. The farm boys weren’t used to drinking, especially in the afternoon, and with another beer inside them they seemed to be calming down. Or rather, seemed to be at the stage where they would soon lose consciousness. He decided it would be best to let them sleep it off at the table rather than roust them outside.
That was when the swing doors opened and a group of young cowboys sauntered in.
Oh, lordy, no!
Each group immediately saw the other. The farm boys sat up straight, shaking off their stupor.
‘Look who the hell’s here,’ one of the cowboys said loudly, nudging his friends. They started to whisper and laugh together. ‘What are you doin’ in Chadwin’s? Don’t you know none of your kind is wanted in town?’
‘We’ve as much right to drink in here as you,’ Peter said, temper flaring straight off.
‘Don’t,’ Martin said, as dismayed as Chadwin.
‘You damn sodbusters don’t usually have money enough to buy drinks.’
‘At least we own the land we farm. We don’t have to work for wages.’ David was quick and eager to join in.
‘All right, boys, stop this, the lot of you,’ Chadwin said. ‘There ain’t no need for any fighting. Let’s all try to get along.’ He smiled brightly at the newcomers, although in his heart he felt he was fighting a losing battle. ‘What d’you want?’
‘Whiskey. We drink real drinks not beer.’
David slammed his glass down on the table, so that most of the beer in it slopped over the rim.
‘Stop it,’ Martin warned, catching hold of his arm. ‘It’s what they want.’
‘Perhaps it’s what some of us want as well,’ David spat out, pulling away from his brother’s grasp. ‘Some of us ain’t cowards.’
‘There’s more of them than there are of us.’
‘So what? We’re more’n a match for them.’
Martin sighed. He felt as apprehensive as Chadwin about the rapidly deteriorating situation.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Are you sure those men were from the Double D?’ Cobb asked Neil.
‘No. Lenny and the others I spoke to had never seen either of ’em before. But that was the brand on their horses.’
‘Of course,’ Jackson said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, ‘if they had been employed by the Drakes they could’ve left the ranch to go elsewhere and been out to make some money by robbing you.’
‘They didn’t have much with ’em,’ Neil pointed out. ‘And if they’d left the ranch what were they doing with two of the ranch’s horses? I suppose like Lenny said they could’ve stolen ’em,’ he added, answering his own question.
Jackson looked at Cobb. ‘You think they were Lucan and Carter, don’t you?’
‘They were fortyish,’ Neil put in. ‘One was tall and thin and the other shorter with very little hair.’
‘Yeah that sounds like them,’ Jackson agreed with a nod.
Cobb smiled in satisfaction. His suspicions were proved correct. ‘I’ll need to find out more about the Drake brothers.’
‘Even though it was their men involved in trying to shoot you that doesn’t mean the Drake brothers were behind it.’
‘I know. ‘All the same Cobb thought they probably were. And he also intended to find out why. ‘Tomorrow me and Neil’ll ride out to look at where Bannister was shot and then go on to speak to the Drakes.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ Jackson offered.
The three men were sitting in the First Choice saloon, which was the largest and best saloon in Newberry’s busy red-light district. Cobb had noticed three other saloons as well as a brothel, a dance hall and billiards hall. The name of the saloon was picked out in gold leaf on its two windows and swing doors opened on to a big room with a bar at the back, behind which shone glasses and bottles. There was a gambling area to one side and a couple of waitresses.
At this time of the afternoon the saloon didn’t have many customers and the few in there seemed to be mostly townsmen and ranch owners.
‘It ain’t rowdy enough in here for the cowhands,’ Jackson had explained. ‘And it’s too expensive for the farmers.’
Cobb waited until Neil fetched over three more beers, as well as some free hard-boiled eggs for himself, then leant back in his chair.
‘One thing is worrying me. If I’m right about Lucan and Carter trying to kill me and Neil….’
Neil hid a smile. Cobb made it sound as if he was never wrong, which come to think of it, Neil admitted, he rarely was.
‘… how did they know where and when we were arriving?’
Jackson reddened as if he felt Cobb was criticizing him.
‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ he said defensively. ‘But as you know, once he was convicted, Steadman asked me to send a telegram to Mr Bellington asking for help and then you sent a message back saying you were coming out by train. There was only one place you could get off. Look,’ he shrugged, ‘I know messages like that are meant to be confidential, but hell, you can’t keep much quiet in a place like Newberry where everybody knows everyone else’s business. And Steadman was news! Everyone wanted to know what he said, how he was holding up and when the hanging was due to take place. It wouldn’t have been difficult to find out about you.’
‘I guess not,’ Cobb agreed, not sounding very happy. He finished his beer. ‘Well, unless those two men wanted to kill us for some other, unknown, reason, it must have to do with why we’re here.’
Jackson agreed.
‘Obviously I wasn’t meant to reach Newberry to investigate Bannister’s killing and that must mean someone wants Tom to hang.’
‘Yeah,’ Jackson said. ‘I wonder why.’
‘Neil, we’d better….’
Cobb got no further. The swing doors slammed back making the bartender tut and one of the waitresses jump and nearly drop the tray of glasses she was carrying. Bob Sparks came in and spotting them hurried over.
‘Bob, what’s up?’ Jackson said, getting to his feet.
‘Thank God I found you, Marshal,’ the man said, stopping to catch his breath. ‘There’s trouble.’
‘Steadman?’
‘No. It’s down at Chadwin’s saloon. A fight. Between some idiot farm boys and some bigger idiot cowboys. Chadwin sent someone to the jailhouse to tell you. He needs help.’
‘OK, I’ll deal with it. You go back and guard Steadman.’ Jackson turned a worried face towards Cobb. ‘This could be a trick to break Steadman out of jail or to lynch him.’
‘I’ll come with you. Neil, you go with Sparks. And be careful.’
‘Chadwin’s is the furthest saloon up the street,’ Jackson said, as he and Cobb hurried out.
Cobb didn’t need telling: men were crowding about outside, laughin
g and yelling.
With Cobb close behind him, Jackson pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, shouting at them to go home. Then they were through the saloon’s doors. Chaos met their gazes.
The fight was still going on. More onlookers trapped in the saloon stood against the walls or sheltered behind the bar while Chadwin looked on helplessly. Tables and chairs lay broken. Glasses were smashed and beer had spilled everywhere. And ten or eleven young man were in the middle of the floor, punching, kicking, rolling about. One lay senseless at the end of the bar, his head bleeding, the dented spittoon with which he’d been hit lying nearby.
Luckily no one had yet resorted to drawing weapons but Cobb wouldn’t have liked to bet on that remaining the case for much longer.
‘Oh hell!’ Jackson said.
‘Do something!’ Chadwin screamed. ‘They’ve wrecked the place.’
‘Let’s stop this!’ Cobb was suddenly eager to join in the fray.
As two of the fighters swayed near to him, he grabbed hold of the collar of the nearest – a farm boy – shoving him out of the way then pitching him out of the doors and into the street. He blocked the blow of the cowboy and let fly with his own punch. His fist caught the cowboy on the chin and he fell down and stayed there. Someone else came at Cobb but Jackson stepped between them and pushed the farmer away. The boy tripped over one of the shattered tables, landing in the middle of the chair-legs and glasses. He tried to rise but collapsed back down, eyes glazing over.
Together with Jackson, Cobb waded through the fighters: parting them, hitting and kicking, thrusting them away. Cobb was a good fighter never afraid to play dirty if he had to and by the time they reached the far side of the room, he and Jackson had succeeded in stopping the fight. Young men lay or sat, clutching at bloody noses, holding cut heads, glaring at one another still or looking sheepish.
‘What the hell’s goin’ on here?’ Jackson yelled, once he’d got his breath back. ‘Who the hell started it?’
Chadwin came out from behind the bar to join him and Cobb. ‘It was both their faults, Marshal. The farmers have been in here nearly all afternoon, drinking and getting angry and stupid. Then these cowboys came in and started a slanging match.’
‘Which soon got out of hand,’ another man added. ‘Still it was a good fight while it lasted.’
‘Who’s that hurt over there?’ Cobb indicated the young man lying motionless by the bar. He went over to him and turned him on his side.
‘It’s Martin Warren,’ Jackson told him.
‘He tried to stop his brothers getting involved and got hit from behind for his trouble.’
‘Not by either of his brothers?’ Jackson asked.
‘Oh no. It was one of the cowboys, but I didn’t see which one. Peter and David are over there. You,’ Chadwin nodded at Cobb, ‘hit Peter and knocked him out while David foolishly tried to take on two of the cowboys. He’s the one with the blackening eye and a cut lip. Serves him right. It was him flung the first punch that started it all.’
‘It looks like Martin is the only one badly hurt,’ Jackson said, after glancing round at the rest of the young men. ‘The others are suffering nothing but cuts and bruises. Best get the doctor to see to him.’
A man ran out of the saloon to do his bidding.
‘What the hell are you going to do with ’em all?’ Chadwin asked. ‘Look at my place. They want locking up.’
‘Aw, hell,’ one of the few cowboys still standing moaned. ‘We didn’t mean no harm.’
‘Shut up,’ Jackson told him. ‘Mr Chadwin, I couldn’t agree more. And normally I’d march the whole lot down to the cells and throw away the keys. But not while I’ve got Steadman locked up and waiting to hang. He deserves privacy in his last few days on this earth.’
‘They can’t be allowed to get away with this.’
‘They won’t. Don’t worry.’
Peter Warren got shakily to his feet and rubbed his swollen jaw. His mouth was bloody and he’d lost two teeth.
‘We weren’t doing nothing until these cowboys came in and attacked us like they always do,’ he said. ‘Look at what they’ve done to Martin. He didn’t even want to fight and now he’s hurt and you’re goin’ to let ’em get away with it. It ain’t fair. You always support the ranchers,’ he accused Jackson.
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,’ the lawman told him.
‘You were drunk, you should’ve left when I told you,’ Chadwin said.
‘That’s right, it’s always our fault.’
‘Be quiet!’ Jackson ordered, losing his temper with a furious shout. ‘No one is goin’ to get away with any of this. Not even you, Peter. Now go and see to your brother. God only knows what your pa will say when he finds out.’
A sulky look on his face, Peter went over to Martin, bending down by him. After a couple of moments he was joined by David, who held his ribs, face twisted with pain. They muttered together but no one took any notice.
‘Mr Chadwin, I’ll take the names of these fools and when the judge next comes to town he can deal with the lot of ’em. That OK with you?’
‘Yeah guess so.’
Jackson turned to Cobb. ‘I can manage now. I’ll see you in the morning?’
‘Yes,’ Cobb agreed.
‘Thanks for your help.’
Cobb nodded and smiled. Like most everyone else he rather enjoyed a good fight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the event Cobb rode out to Bannister’s farm with just Marshal Jackson for company. Jackson was worried that with such a short time to go to Steadman’s hanging feelings were running high between the farmers, who might lynch him, and the cowboys, who might rescue him. So Cobb told Neil to stay at the jailhouse to help Bob Sparks make sure neither happened.
Riding fast it didn’t take the two men long to reach Bannister’s farm. As they rode down the slope from the trail, Cobb looked at the cultivated fields leading away from the few buildings.
‘Whatever else Bannister might have been, he was a good farmer,’ Jackson said, as they came to a halt. ‘Helped by the fact that he had water on his land.’
‘The land certainly looks good enough that someone might well have wanted to take it from him.’
Jackson agreed with a little shrug.
‘Where did you find the body?’
‘Over here.’ Jackson led the way towards the corral. ‘It looked like he’d dismounted but didn’t have time to do anything else before he was shot.’
‘Who found the body?’
‘Peter Warren. That was the young man in the fight yesterday.’
Cobb nodded to show he remembered.
‘In the weeks leading up to the shooting, the Warren boys, Peter and David anyway not Martin so much, had become thick as thieves with Bannister. Peter was riding over to see Bannister to talk to him about what they should do next. He rode into town to fetch me and the doctor. Doc reckoned Bannister had been dead a couple of days.’
‘And there wasn’t much to see?’
‘No. No useful tracks or anything. But I did discover where the ambusher lay in wait. Behind there.’ Jackson pointed across the dry strip of ground to an outcrop of rocks. ‘I’ll show you.’
‘How did you know that was where he waited?’
‘Because that was the one place I did find something. Footprints and a cigarette end. Someone had been there for a while.’
‘Just one person?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And there was nothing to show who that was?’
‘No.’
Cobb immediately saw that the rocks made a good hiding place. A man could stay there, out of sight, until his quarry put in an appearance. And it wasn’t far from the corral so that even a reasonable shot would have had no difficulty in finding his target. Bannister wouldn’t have stood a chance.
‘Where’s the Drake brothers ranch from here?’
‘Just over the ridge. About half a mile away. When Bannister moved in the ranch was here already,
although it wasn’t owned by the Drakes then. This land never belonged to the ranch which runs towards the foothills in the other direction. Of course, in the early days, the ranch’s cattle could easily be driven to the waterhole because no one owned the land. As soon as he moved in Bannister strung up barbed wire.’
‘I bet that didn’t go down too well.’
‘That it didn’t.’
‘Why didn’t the previous ranch owners try to buy this land and the water?’
‘I don’t know. It was before my time. Maybe they didn’t think there would come a time when the rest of the country would be so dry and suffering from lack of water.’
‘But Bannister was here by the time the Drakes moved in?’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘So they couldn’t have bought it legitimately.’
‘Not ’less Bannister was willing to sell.’
Cobb rode his horse to the top of the ridge and came to a surprised halt. ‘Come here,’ he called. ‘Look at this.’
‘What is it?’
‘Someone has already decided that the water on Bannister’s land shouldn’t go to waste.’
From here it was possible to see that a large section of barbed wire had been broken down and cattle had walked, or more likely been driven, through it. At least fifty or sixty head, enough to leave behind a trail as they made their way to the waterhole and the good grass that surrounded it.
‘Oh hell.’ Jackson pushed his hat to the back of his head. ‘Now, Mr Cobb, has that been done by accident or on purpose?’
‘That, Owen, is the question. I think we’d better ask the Drake brothers, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. They could be the only ones responsible.’
Red-faced with fury, Fred Warren pulled the buckboard to a halt outside the doctor’s surgery. He leapt down and without even bothering to secure the horses to the hitching rail marched towards the building.
‘Oh-oh, here’s Pa,’ Peter said nervously.
The doctor beat a hasty retreat; let them all get on with it, he thought.
As soon as he saw Peter and David, Warren yelled, ‘You bloody fools!’