Marble Range

by Robert J. Horton

  Bannister nodded. “That’s where I’ll come in,” he said.

  She gave him a quick glance. “Bannister,” she said in a serious voice, “I don’t want gun play on this ranch if there is any possible way to avoid it. I know something is wrong here, but I don’t know just what it is. It is like the wind whispering in the trees. You can imagine words but you cannot connect them. And, what is more serious, the Half Diamond threatens to become a buffer between the irrigation project north of here and the other ranches to the south and east.”

  “You think there is going to be fighting?” asked Bannister.

  “Neither faction can cross Marble range,” said Florence firmly. “No, I don’t think that. But the Cattlemen’s Association held a meeting a week ago. I didn’t attend and it is one of the rules that a member cannot send a representative except in event of serious illness. Therefore, I couldn’t send Manley. Now I received word that two members, John Macy and Herman Berlinger, who have ranches just south of the Half Diamond, are coming to see me today. I expect them around noon. I want you to hear what they have to say without being seen. So keep out of sight when they come and slip into the dining room when I invite them in here.”

  “I don’t like to eavesdrop, Miss Marble, but I’ll do it for you.”

  “It isn’t that,” said the girl. “It’s just that I don’t want you to be seen at the meeting. It would bring questions, you understand? Yet I want you to hear them talk. Men of your caliber can tell much by a man’s voice. Perhaps you may be able to sense what’s in the wind.”

  “Miss Florence, don’t get me wrong, for I’m here to take orders,” Bannister declared. “I guess I know how to take ’em . . . from you.”

  “Then that’s settled,” said Florence, rising quickly to signify that the conversation was at an end. “You’ll be able to tell when they come quick enough, for John Macy rides a very fine iron gray horse . . . one of the largest on the whole range.”

  “I know him already,” Bannister told her. “I stopped at his place on the way up. Reckon that’s another reason why he shouldn’t see me, for I take it you don’t want him to know I’m working here.”

  “No, I don’t,” she confessed. “And it won’t be necessary to repeat anything that’s said to the men.”

  “If there’s one thing I’m able to do,” drawled Bannister, “it’s keep my mouth shut.”

  Florence Marble laughed lightly in appreciation as he went out the door.

  It lacked an hour of noon when Macy and Berlinger rode up from the bottoms. Bannister, who had taken a point of vantage in the yard, talking idly with Howard, saw them coming in time to slip around to the rear of the house. He heard Macy’s booming voice as Florence went out on the porch.

  “Well, Miss Flo, howdy. Berlinger, here, an’ I heard how you was outsteppin’ ’em over at the dance.”

  “News travels fast, Mister Macy,” was the girl’s comment. “Jeb will take your horses. Get down and come in.”

  This was Bannister’s clue to slip into the house by the rear door and take up his station out of sight in the dining room. He heard the voices of the two visitors greeting Manley and Howard.

  “Didn’t see you over at the stock meetin’, Miss Flo,” Macy opened casually.

  “No, I thought there would be enough men there to attend to what business might come up,” replied Florence.

  “Well, there was,” John Macy said, maintaining a casual approach. “But we had some mighty important business, an’ since the Half Diamond is the biggest ranch hereabouts, an’ the farthest north, we would have liked to have had you there.”

  “I understand the talk didn’t run entirely to stock,” Manley ventured.

  “No, it didn’t,” Macy agreed. “But I reckon we better take this matter up direct with Miss Flo, since she owns the Half Diamond.” He paused to permit Manley to get it thoroughly through his head that it wasn’t necessary for him to take part in the discussion. Then he spoke again to Florence. “You see, Miss Flo, it’s this irrigation business. I don’t know such a heap about what they’re doin’ up there, but I do know what they’re doin’ down here. That’s what we talked most about at the association meeting the other day.”

  “Down here?” said Florence in a tone of surprise. “Why, they’re not operating down this way.”

  “Well, now, if you’ll excuse me, they are,” Macy drawled. “They’re operating to kill off our crops in the bottoms and kill off our cattle. An’ in doin’ that they’re ruining us without giving us anything in return.”

  “But that can’t be, Mister Macy,” Florence protested. “It will benefit us . . . this project. Mister Cromer says so.”

  “Cromer be hanged!” Macy blurted. “An’ that’s just it, that’s why we’ve come over here today representing the association. We figured you didn’t quite savvy the situation. They’re operating down here by taking our water. They’ve tapped the river up there an’ are fillin’ a pond which they say they’re goin’ to make into a storage lake. Then they’re goin’ to steal our water for their fool ditches an’ laterals until the river will be dry as a bone. Haven’t you noticed that the river’s down already? What’ll it be later in the summer when we need the water?”

  “Oh, they can only take so much,” Florence pointed out.

  “Don’t you ever think it,” said Macy convincingly. “They’ve played some dirty politics and passed out some dirty money an’ are gettin’ just about what they want. What’s more, we believe they have hoodwinked some of the higher-ups. The government sure is on the square, but these fellows ain’t. They’ve only got a dinky project of ten thousand acres an’ they don’t need all that water. An’ they’re figurin’ on two hundred an’ fifty or so small farms, as they call ’em, of forty acres each. That’ll take a lot of laterals from the main ditches. They haven’t started ’em yet. This Cromer seems to be more interested in buildin’ a town before it’s needed.”

  “I’m sure I don’t understand it all, although I’m interested,” Florence confessed. “But it will increase the value of our land.”

  “It won’t do any such thing,” Macy declared. “They couldn’t get enough water out of the river to irrigate all this down here. An’ when we’re dried up, our land won’t be worth a two cent stamp. I tell you that business up there is a bubble an’ it’s up to us stock raisers to puncture it.”

  “I don’t just know what you mean by that,” said Florence in a worried voice.

  “We’ve got to get together an’ fight for our rights,” said Macy sternly. “An’ if we can’t get ’em any other way, we’ve got to take ’em.”

  “By that I expect you mean some kind of violence,” said Florence. “Well, there’s one thing, Mister Macy . . . there’ll be no violence on this ranch and no crossing of Marble range for any such purpose. I don’t think the project is any bubble and I don’t think they’re going to cheat us out of any water. They may be taking considerable now, but it’s a time when we don’t really need it. Now I think we’d better get ready for dinner.”

  John Macy rose. “No, Miss Flo, I reckon we can’t stay to dinner. We just wanted to find out if you intended to stick with the association. Sure enough, we’ve got our answer. We’ll be going.”

  “I think you’re making a lot out of nothing,” said the girl with spirit. “You say I don’t understand the situation, but it might be that the association doesn’t understand it, either. Anyway, I’ve taken a step I can’t take back, and don’t forget the Half Diamond is running cattle, too.”

  “That’s true,” Macy drawled. “An’ I’m not forgetting that the Half Diamond has the best grass on the north range an’ will get first crack at what water’s left over.”

  “That’s unfair, John Macy, and you know it!” exclaimed Florence. “You’re hinting that I’m going to get an advantage because I’ve invested up there. Well, I’m not.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, Miss Flo,” said Macy from the doorway.

  Bannister slipped f
rom the dining room. From the kitchen window he saw old Jeb bring the visitors’ horses, saw them mount, and ride away. Then he went out into the courtyard as another horseman appeared in a cloud of dust. His eyes narrowed. It was Big Bill Hayes.

  Chapter Nine

  The big man brought his horse plunging into the courtyard, drew rein sharply, kicking up a cloud of dust that completely enveloped Bannister. He dismounted leisurely. “Take my horse,” he commanded.

  Bannister drew tobacco and papers from his shirt pocket. “I’ve got a horse,” he drawled.

  Big Bill Hayes stared in stupefaction. Then he scowled fiercely. “You’re the new hand here, ain’t you?” he demanded. “Well, I’m foreman of this ranch an’ your first job is to put up my horse. Then take your roll an’ beat it to the camp out at the Dome. I reckon you’ll be able to find it.”

  “Yes, I know exactly where it is,” said Bannister. “But Manley was going to send me up on the north range.”

  “Oh, he is, eh? Well, I need men an’ I guess you’ll work with me.” Hayes started toward the house.

  “Not so fast,” Bannister said sharply, causing the burly foreman to whirl about in anger. “Manley isn’t going to send me up on the north range. He isn’t going to send me anywhere at all.”

  Hayes was puzzled. “Then you’re not workin’ here, after all,” he decided. “I heard you was.”

  “Yes, I know. Link told you. Well, I am working here, but I guess Jeb here is able to take care of your horse.”

  “Now what’s this?” It was Florence Marble who put the question. She had come out of the house, seeking Bannister after the conference.

  Hayes scowled. He didn’t brook interference by the mistress of the Half Diamond even though he was in her employ. “Is this fellow workin’ here?” he asked.

  “Yes, this is Bannister,” she replied. “A new hand.”

  “I guess he is new,” sneered Hayes. “He’s sure got a lot to learn. I just ordered him to put up my horse an’ beat it out to the Dome, where there’s work to do. He stands an’ gapes an’ tries to sass me.” He glared at Bannister, who smiled pleasantly at his fury.

  “Bannister is taking orders from me only for the present,” Florence explained severely.

  Hayes drew back a step with a faint leer. Then he smiled broadly. “Oh, that’s how it is,” he said with a look at each of them.

  “Hayes!” exclaimed Florence furiously. “If you ever look at me that way again, I’ll get my quirt and cut you across the face!”

  Red rage swam in Hayes’s eyes, but he held his tongue.

  “And now go about your business,” Florence commanded.

  Hayes strode toward the office in the front of the house, bent on a conference with Manley, but he gave Bannister a look that the latter returned with a tantalizing blank expression.

  Having thus deliberately made a first-class enemy of a man he had disliked from their first meeting on the morning of the chase—a man he suspected, he did not know why, of something he was not sure of—Bannister turned to Florence Marble.

  “I’m sorry this happened,” she said, “but Hayes is a good deal of a bully. You heard what Macy had to say?” And when Bannister nodded: “Then you know what it is I want of you. I want you to keep an eye on things. I don’t know exactly how to explain myself. But I suppose you would call yourself a sort of . . . detective? You see, I’m heavily interested in the project up there and I have great faith in it. I believe the association is scaring itself ahead of time, and I have to protect my interests. I’ll just give Manley a little hint that you are to be Howard’s companion for a time.”

  Bannister laughed at this. “A chaperone, ma’am, but I’d like to suggest that as a first order you send me up to take a look at this project. Howard could go along if he wants.”

  “Excellent,” said the girl. “But don’t tell Cromer about this association business. It might be like pouring oil on the fire. I expect Howard will want to go.”

  She went into the house to send Howard out to eat with Bannister and old Jeb, the latter having been busy at his stove, as he announced proudly.

  “Old Bull-Face will be out here to eat,” he complained with a fierce scowl, “but he’ll eat in the mess room an’ we’ll take ours in the kitchen. Tastes better out here, anyways.”

  But Jeb was mistaken. After a short time spent with Manley, Hayes came out after his horse. He rode away shortly afterward at a furious pace in the direction of the Dome.

  “Reckon he don’t like our company,” was Jeb’s comment. “Wal, he’s sure welcome to his.”

  After they had eaten, Bannister and Howard started at once for the Marble Dome Land and Irrigation project in the north and the new-born town of Marble. Bannister pondered the coincidence that Cromer should use the name Marble so consistently. It stuck in his mind that the irrigation head must have some design in this. He might also find some of the things Macy hinted at to be correct. He thought of this probability, too, but his main thought was of the protection of Florence Marble’s interests, and he conjectured the possibility that those interests might not entirely concern her investment and her property.

  The plain flowed northward, as perfect a range as any experienced cattleman could dream of being made to order. Sleek herds grazed on the luscious grasses still green after the spring rains. The Half Diamond was indeed a paradise of a ranch, Bannister reflected. The man who would marry Florence Marble would indeed be lucky. He would secure not only a beautiful and accomplished wife, but doubtless a lordship over this mighty kingdom. He remembered Cromer’s irritation when he had seen him talking to Florence; he recalled vividly the half sneer on the man’s lips; he could not forget the look in the eyes. Yes, it was possible the owner of the Half Diamond needed protection of a nature that didn’t concern her riches. Howard noticed with surprise a new look come into Bannister’s eyes, a new and rather fearful expression that flitted over his features.

  “You still thinking about your run-in with Big Bill Hayes?” he chided. “You needn’t worry. You stopped him.”

  “Maybe so . . . maybe not,” said Bannister enigmatically.

  Howard saw his companion did not wish to talk about it, so they rode on in silence. But Howard was thinking, also. He began to whistle and they quickened their pace.

  The herds dwindled, and then the plain was free. They had passed the limit of the north range. The mountains appeared to march toward them. The river was off to the left, the small stream to the right. Their courses were marked by long, slender lines of timber. Between was a tableland, reaching straight and true, slightly rising, to the rolling foothills.

  “We’re on the project!” Howard called, pointing ahead.

  But Bannister already was looking. In the middle distance were spots of gold—yellow roofs and sides of newly erected, unpainted shacks, struck by the bright sunlight. Beyond was the sheen of silver—the “soup dish,” gleaming as a miniature lake. A gray ribbon threaded its way to it from the river—the main ditch.

  Soon they were following lines of stakes that marked the courses of the contemplated laterals. Other stakes appeared, designating the corners of the projected farm plots. Bannister realized it was quite a business, after all, for a one-man job. And it was in this business that Florence Marble had invested a fortune. Every stake might be said to represent dollars of her money.

  The town lay upon the open prairie. There were no trees. Its water came by pipeline from a mountain stream. As they neared it, Bannister saw rows of tents that were the abodes of the laborers, then shacks that housed foremen and engineers, then the town itself with its main street in the shaping. Small buildings were going up on either side of the street and many of them already were occupied. One he noticed in particular. It was larger, better constructed. He called Howard’s attention to it.

  “That’s going to be the bank,” said the boy. “Almost finished, too.”

  A bank already, thought Bannister. Cromer is working fast. They came into the street, passe
d a number of speedily constructed cafés, a small hotel, several resorts—always among the first in new towns or diggings—the bank building, the offices of the company, with gilt signs prominently displayed, and came at last to the huge tent that served as a livery. Scattered about were several large wagons used in the transportation of lumber and other materials, as well as supplies, from Prairie City, the nearest point of rail.

  They put up their horses and repaired to one of the resorts to refresh themselves with mild drinks. It was called The Garden of Eden. Upon entering, Bannister received three distinct shocks. First, the place already was fully equipped with bar and gaming tables and devices, all with the proper fixtures; second, he saw Link at the lower end of the bar and he wasn’t drinking, for even as Bannister looked, the evil-eyed dwarf (he might be called that as to stature) waved aside a bottle; third, a man said—“Hallo!”—and he turned to confront Sheriff Campbell.

  “Well, if here isn’t my old friend,” said Bannister smoothly. “Are you trailing me or am I trailing you?”

  “You seem to have a habit of turning up at the live spots,” replied Campbell dryly.

  “I always favored ’em,” said Bannister pleasantly. “You see I own some stock in this project and I thought I’d look it over.”

  “Come far?” Campbell inquired.

  “From the Half Diamond,” was Bannister’s reply. “Know the place?”

  “Working there?” the sheriff asked, ignoring the sarcasm.

  “Sure thing,” was the ready reply. “Hooked up the night of the dance. Any objections?”

  The sheriff had kept his eyes on him with that same glimmer of suspicion he had exhibited in Prairie City when he had hinted that Bannister might be the notorious bandit and gunfighter known simply as The Maverick.