by Ray Hogan
“There’s one thing,” he said slowly. “Pa sold a little jag of steers to Evan Crockett. A thousand head. They’ve got to be driven to his place.”
Starbuck smiled to himself ... A little jag of steers—a thousand head ... He knew of many ranches where that number would constitute the entire herd. Hagerman spoke of them as if they were barely worth mentioning.
“Not but a short drive—a couple a hundred miles, but it’s through plenty rough country. Pa aims to head up the drive himself.”
“Can you handle it?”
“Sure—I know I can. I wouldn’t take the same trail he does because water’s scarce along it and it’s too hard on the cattle. That’s not important to him, though; all he’s interested in is delivering the stock. Might take a day longer the route I’ll follow but the cattle will be in prime condition when Crockett gets them.”
“I see ... When’s he figure to head out?”
“Tomorrow or the next day, last I heard.”
“Good. Won’t be smart for him to go riding off cross-country anyway, not with that killer hanging around. And since he’s got no foreman, be the natural thing for you to take over.”
“He’ll never listen to it—or to what you say about the gunman, either. Bull-headed like he is, he’ll go anyway.”
“Maybe. I’ll hit him up in the morning, tell him I think you ought to take on Archer’s job and handle the drive.”
Ron’s brows lifted, indicating his hope. “Like I said, maybe he’ll listen to you. Sure won’t me.”
“Never be a better time than now to speak up. You’ve got two things going for you—the threat of that killer, and there being no foreman on the ranch.”
“He won’t look at it from that angle,” Ron said doubt again in his tone. “He’ll just remember all the things I couldn’t do once, and decide right off that I’ll fail again.”
“We’ll see ... One thing, when we get to talking to him about it, don’t mention that you’ll be doing it your way and not his. You just go ahead, take the trail you figure’s best, if we convince him. Telling him about it will just be throwing more rocks in the path.”
Hagerman nodded. Shawn glanced toward the house. The faint glow of lamplight against his window no longer showed.
“Come morning we’ll put it up to him.”
Ron Hagerman reached for the trailing reins of his horse, started to move on for the barn, halted.
“That killer ... you decide yet whether you’re going to tell Pa that I had a hand in bringing him here?”
“No ... Something I’m still thinking over ... Good night.”
He glanced again at the darkened window as Hagerman continued on. Rhoda, he hoped, had returned to her own bed.
Sixteen
Starbuck was the first one down and waiting in the dining room that next morning. It was by design and not accident. He wanted to step outside, have a searching look at the area around the house. The knowledge of the killer’s arrival was uppermost in his mind and he knew he must take every precaution from that hour on until the gunman was either apprehended or brought down.
Shortly after he had returned from his tour of inspection and was standing by the window drinking a cup of Mamacita’s strong coffee, Ron entered the room. He said very little other than acknowledging the greeting Shawn made, was seemingly wrapped in deep thought. Starbuck guessed he was girding himself for the battle he anticipated with Price Hagerman.
He would help Ron all he could. It meant taking it upon himself to suggest that Ron become Hash Knife’s new foreman as well as being the one to head up the cattle drive to Crockett’s. Once that was said, he’d go a step farther and recommend it.
Likely the rancher would resent the interference in what he considered a strict family matter—and would tell him so in plain words. But that wouldn’t matter. Ron, despite the mistake he had made, deserved to be recognized and given a second chance.
Price and Rhoda came down together only moments after Ron, and all settled in their chairs. Few words other than morning salutations again seemed the rule. Rhoda, dressed for riding, did favor Shawn with a warm smile, however.
“Salazar!” Hagerman yelled, twisting about and looking toward the kitchen door. “Where’s my eggs and steak?”
The squat, ever-smiling woman came into the room at once, bringing the platters of food. All had been in readiness evidently; she had simply awaited the rancher’s bellowed summons.
The meal passed quickly, Shawn delaying until the final cups of coffee were poured before speaking for Ron. After that was said he would tell Price of the rider who had come in the night, go so far as to propose that he stay in the house while a search was made on the range for the rider. He doubted that Hagerman would listen, however, and—
“Pa, something I want to talk to you about.”
At Ron’s unexpected declaration, Starbuck glanced up. The younger Hagerman’s features were taut and there was a whiteness around his cheekbones, but his voice was firm and strong. He was going to speak for himself, not permit someone else to do it for him. Shawn’s estimation of the man raised another notch.
“Yeah?” Price said, leaning forward. His eyes were filled with suspicion. “What about?”
“Me ... and this ranch. I’m taking over the foreman job.”
Hagerman rocked back in his chair. “The hell you say!”
“I’m aiming to handle the drive to Crockett’s, too. Herd’s ready to move. I’ll head out today.”
“The devil you will!” Hagerman shouted, now thoroughly aroused. “I wouldn’t trust you from here to the barn with a wagonload of corn shucks!”
“You’re going to have to, Pa. I’m—”
“I don’t have to do a goddam thing but someday die! What made you think I’d listen to such fiddle-faddle?”
“Because I’m your son and I’ve got a right to be somebody on this ranch.”
“You’ve had your chance before,” Hagerman said, shaking his finger across the table. “You proved then you wasn’t man enough to handle anything.”
“That was years ago. I’ve grown up since then. You ought to realize that.”
“Far as I can tell you ain’t changed one whit. Be the same story was I to ever let you—”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“And I’m saying it would,” Hagerman shot back. “Forget it.”
Ron shook his head stubbornly. “I’m doing it, Pa. I’m taking that herd to Crockett’s just to prove to you that I can.”
“Had all the proof I need about you.”
Shawn set his empty cup back into its saucer. “Be a good idea to let Ron handle it,” he said, coming into the argument. “We had a visitor last night.”
Price Hagerman transferred his steady glare from his son to Starbuck. “What visitor?”
“I figure it was the man we’ve been waiting for.”
The rancher straightened slowly. “You mean the killer who’s supposed to be gunning for me?”
“Only reason I can think of for a stranger to be prowling the place at one o’clock in the morning.”
“If you seen him why the hell didn’t you shoot him?”
“Never got the chance. Was careful to keep out of sight.”
Hagerman shrugged his annoyance, making clear he considered it another unnecessary failure. “What’s that got to do with Ron moving them cattle?”
“Won’t be smart for you to be out on the range.”
“Forget that!” Price snapped. “I ain’t crawling under the bedstead for nobody!”
“Just asking that you stay in the house—”
“Hell, no!”
Starbuck’s features hardened. “You hired me to look out for you. Can’t do it unless you listen to what I say.”
“Then you’re fired. I ain’t holing up for you or anybody else.”
Starbuck turned away, glanced at Rhoda, question in his eyes.
She shook her head at Hagerman. “Now, Pa, you don’t mean that. You’ve got to do w
hat Shawn says. It’s for your own good.”
“I ain’t staying penned up, and that’s all there is to it,” the rancher declared flatly. “Never yet run from trouble, man or beast, and I’m too damned old now to start.”
“Then you can’t hold Starbuck responsible if something happens,” Ron said.
“Ain’t nothing going to happen if he’s on the job like he’s supposed to be.”
A half smile pulled at Shawn’s mouth. “Sets up quite a chore for me, the way you want it done.”
“Maybe, but that’s how it’s going to be. Expect to go about my business same as I always do.”
“And make yourself an easy target,” Rhoda finished in an icy tone.
“If I do, I do. Anyway, Starbuck’ll be there to stop this here killer before he can do anything.”
“Unless he’s standing off in the brush a hundred yards with a rifle,” Shawn said quietly.
The rancher considered that. “It turns out that way,” he said finally, “you won’t be to blame ... Nobody will.”
Rhoda made a small gesture with her hands. “Well, there’s no need for it. All you have to do is listen to Shawn—do what he says and you’ll both come out all right.”
Hagerman’s sharp dark eyes were on his daughter, once again appraising, assessing, drawing conclusions as to the girl and Starbuck.
“I’ll take care,” he said then, his manner relenting. “You worrying about him ... or me?”
“About you, Pa.”
The rancher grunted. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Well, I’m heading out—”
“What about it?” Ron’s voice had lost some of its firmness. “You’ve not given me an answer yet.”
The elder Hagerman fixed his gaze on his son. “I’ve had my say. Ain’t about to keep chewing it over and over.”
“Why not? Why can’t we talk it out? And how am I ever going to prove anything to you if you won’t give me a chance to?”
“Don’t need nothing proved—already know.” Price shifted his glance to Rhoda. “What do you think, girl? You figure there’s any use of it?”
“Up to you,” Rhoda replied, neither backing nor opposing her brother.
Temper flared through Ron. “Why’re you asking her? She’s got nothing to say about it! Sure don’t mean anything to her.”
Price smiled quietly. “Could be she’s changed, and has got more say-so than you think.” Shoving back his chair he got to his feet. He stood for a bit looking down at the linen cloth, a deep frown on his face. Then, “I’ll do some studying on it, give you my answer tonight.”
Shawn saw surprise flood into the younger Hagerman’s eyes. Evidently it was the first time he had made any headway with his father; a small victory—but a victory, nevertheless. He grinned, bobbed his head.
“Fine, Pa ... I’ll be ready to pull out in the morning—if you say so.”
“All right, but don’t go getting in a hurry. Said I’d think on it. Ain’t saying yes to nothing, yet.” He swung his attention to Shawn. “Be ready to ride in ten minutes. Got to check on Crockett’s herd, see that the stock’s fit to go ... Meet you at the corral.”
Shawn rose, said, “I’ll be there,” in a resigned voice, and ducking his head at Rhoda and Ron, turned to go for his hat and spurs.
He had scarcely entered his room when he heard a sound behind him and wheeled. It was Rhoda. Her features were serious and concern shadowed her eyes. She looked up at him in that direct way of hers.
“Shawn ... that stranger last night... do you think he’s hanging around?”
“Would be my guess.”
She dropped her gaze. “I ... wish you didn’t have to go out there with Pa, that he’d listen to you and stay here.”
“He won’t. You saw that.”
“I know ... He’s always so bull-headed.”
“Taking a big chance. I’ll do all I can to keep him from getting hurt.”
“I know you will. What about Ron?”
He leaned over, began to buckle on his spurs. “What about him?”
“Do you think you can depend on him for help? Against the killer, I mean.”
“Sure of it. And we’re getting word to all the range hands to watch out for a stranger. He’s sorry for what he did.”
Her slim shoulders moved slightly. “A bit late for that,” she murmured. “Oh, I hate him for doing it! It could mean your life.... And Pa’s.”
Starbuck, finished with the rowels, straightened slowly. His eyes searched her features closely, and then, pulling on his hat, he moved by her. In the doorway he halted, looked back.
“It’s your pa you want to be worrying about,” he said. “I’m nothing to you, Rhoda. Understand that. I’m just somebody passing through your life ... Adios ... ”
Seventeen
They rode from the yard stirrup to stirrup, neither man having anything to say. A distance from the buildings Starbuck, after taking stock of the land across which they angled, dropped back and changed his position, placing himself between Price Hagerman and a low hogback of rock and stunted brush to their right.
Open country lay to the opposite side and he felt there was no danger of an ambush from that quarter; the ridge, however, offered perfect cover.
The rancher seemed not to notice the move. He was staring straight ahead, high-crowned, broad-brimmed hat tipped forward over his face, eyes vacant with deep thought. They continued on steadily, covered the first mile, and then Shawn, noting two riders in a shallow sink below them, reached out and touched Hagerman’s arm.
“They some of your crew?”
Price, aroused from his reverie, peered at the men. “Expect they are. One way to find out.”
Immediately he roweled the buckskin he was riding and cut directly for the pair. Starbuck, cautious, hand near the forty-five on his left hip, kept pace.
The punchers were astride horses wearing Circle Hash Knife brands. The first, an elderly man with a hawk nose and thick mustache nodded and smiled.
“ ‘Morning Mister Hagerman, you looking for somebody special?”
Price shook his head. “Riding, mostly. Figured to take a look at them cattle I’m sending to Evan Crockett.”
The old puncher jerked a thumb toward the south. “You’ll find them in the hollow yonder side of that hill. Finished the gather yesterday. Reckon they can move out any time.”
“Good.”
Shawn said: “Noticed any strangers around?”
“Nope, not a one. Ron was by here a bit ago. Told us to keep our eyes peeled. Aim to do just that ... Your name Starbuck?”
“That’s me. Been wanting to talk to you and the rest of the crew. You’d be?”
“Maury’s what they call me. My friend here is Wes Lovett. It about this brother of your’n?”
Evidently Ron had passed on considerable information. “Right. Was hoping to find him working for Mr. Hagerman,” Shawn said, and gave his description of Ben. “Could be calling himself Damon Friend,” he finished.
The two punchers exchanged glances. Maury said, “Sure don’t recollect nobody like that ... Name don’t prod me none either.”
Shawn smiled. “Obliged to you just the same. I’ll be talking to the others in the next few days. Might mention to them what I told you.”
“Sure will do it,” Maury replied, and, settling back on his saddle, watched Hagerman and Starbuck ride on.
The rancher, frowning, was staring at Shawn. There was an odd, quizzical look in his eyes. “You hear what he said about Ron—that he’d already been by here?”
“Expect he got a quicker start than we did. Know from last night he was planning to get word about the killer passed to the crew.”
Hagerman swore wonderingly. “Just can’t figure that. Was in my mind that he was at the house, crawled back into bed and sleeping. What he usually does when he’s been out half the night whoring around.”
“You know that for sure or are you just guessing?”
“Damn it—I know! It’s what he’s always done.�
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Starbuck’s shoulders lifted, fell. “That’s where all the trouble between you two lays. It’s what he used to do. Not that way now, but you keep judging him by the past.”
“I know what I know, and he—”
“You two’ll never get together unless you start looking at the Ron that’s your son today. He’s changed. He’s different—a full grown man.”
Hagerman studied Shawn narrowly. “You’re mighty certain for a fellow who’s only known him a couple of days.”
“Makes it easy. I’m a stranger, an outsider. I can see it, and I’m pretty well acquainted with the problem. Turns up in about every family like yours.”
“Ain’t sure I’m liking the sound of that.”
“Most of the time the truth does have a saw-tooth edge. Can hurt like hell—and that means plenty of folks dodge it.”
“The truth that’s hurting me,” the rancher said with a shrug, “is that my own flesh and blood ain’t worth a bucket of tick-dip.”
“That’s where you’re wrong maybe. You won’t give Ron a chance to prove it—something he wants to do so bad he—” Starbuck let the words die off, unwilling to go any farther. Ron was guilty of a terrible deed, but he still couldn’t bring himself around to telling Price Hagerman of it.
The rancher waited for him to finish, and when he did not, prompted: “He’d what?”
“Take on most anything to make you see it—like wanting the foreman job, and driving that herd you’ve sold to whoever it was that bought it.”
Hagerman shifted wearily. “I just ain’t got no confidence in the boy—”
“He’s not a boy! He’s older than I am. Whole trouble is you’ve lost touch with each other. You talk the same language, only it’s not on the same level.” Shawn paused, grasping for words with which he could make Price Hagerman understand.
The rancher was a breath ahead of him.
“Reckon I see what you’re trying to say. There just ain’t no connection running between us. It’s like being joined by a rope only there’s a knot in the middle neither one of us can get around.”