Marble Range

by Robert J. Horton

  Bannister realized that in following them to the project he had accomplished nothing, nor could he afford to be recognized. Already there were horsemen on their trail. Surely Cromer would have watchmen abroad. He thought of turning east toward the cow camp, but immediately rejected the plan. He couldn’t afford to be seen there, either. Meanwhile they were racing southward some little distance behind the men who had blown up the dam.

  The thought of that explosion struck a chill to Bannister’s heart. He looked back and saw that for some distance east of the dam was the silver gleam of water. Undoubtedly the dam had been shattered. Now the water in the lake was rushing away across the plain. It would be necessary to build a new dam. And to build a new dam the water in the big ditch would have to be shut off—the head gates would have to be closed. This would send all the water in the river downstream. By blowing up the dam the cattlemen had succeeded in getting the water they wanted. And it would cripple the project, endanger its chance for success, detract from the value of the plots and the stock. Bannister ground his teeth as he thought of Florence Marble’s investment.

  And now a new factor entered into the nefarious business. The Half Diamond men had heard the explosion and the alarm had been spread. They came racing from the east in an effort to cut the cattlemen off. They had taken in the situation at a glance and knew that whatever had happened in the north was the work of these riders. Flashes of flame burst against the shadows of the trees along the creek and the reports of guns punctured the stillness of the night. The riders ahead answered the fire and spurred their horses. It became a race for the river.

  Bannister saw that, while the cattlemen might make it, he and his two companions could not expect to do so, unless they shot their way through. He shouted and spurted off to the west, with Howard and Tommy following. To the left of them the battle raged and the race began to show a wide gap between the cattlemen and their pursuers. As the Half Diamond men were mounted on average cow ponies, they could not be expected to overtake the splendid horses the others rode. The trio behind kept toward the west and soon was riding through scattered cattle. In a short time they were out of sight of the two factions to eastward and eased their pace to save their horses. Of his next move, Bannister was not sure, except that he and Tommy couldn’t be seen and would have to go to the cabin in the clearing below the leaning cottonwood. He changed their course now to due south and soon the sounds from eastward had died away.

  They rode on at a fast pace until finally they came to the fields and pastures east of the house. Here they swept southeast, avoiding the fences, and came to the trees along the river. Bannister reined in his horse, and, as they halted, he spoke to Howard.

  “You better go home,” he advised. “And don’t tell anyone there what has happened, or you’ll have to explain how you knew about it so soon. The news will get there fast enough. Manley will send a man in or go himself. Come down to the cabin tomorrow.”

  “You want to watch out,” said Howard. “They’ll be down there from the project in no time. And there’s liable to be some of our outfit hanging around. You better get some place where you can keep an eye out.”

  “We’ll watch out, don’t worry,” said Bannister in a tone of aggravation. “But you want to get home as soon as you can, since this thing has happened. I reckon you savvy that.”

  “I’ll be down tomorrow,” said Howard as he rode off.

  When he had gone, Bannister swore softly. “Tommy, that play of Macy’s has knocked my plans into a cocked hat,” he said with a note of bitterness in his voice. “That is, so far as getting Hayes and this bunch I believe is working on the cattle.” He shook out his reins impatiently. “But we’ll have to mosey along and keep dark. I’ve still got a trump card to play and then I’m through.”

  The way Bannister said this puzzled Tommy. Somehow he could think of nothing to say. Nor did Bannister give him a chance for speech. They started east along the trees, riding until they came to the Dome trail to the river ford. Here they paused and listened. No one was in sight, but the air vibrated faintly. Horses were coming from some direction. They drew farther into the shadows of the trees. In a short time it was plain that the riders were approaching from the south.

  The hoof beats became stronger and stronger, until finally the splashing of the horses crossing the ford could be heard. Then the riders swept past them. As they galloped out upon the plain, a rider in the rear of the cavalcade darted aside into the shadows across the trail. But in the moment of turning, the moon had shown a small figure that Bannister recognized. “Link,” he whispered tremulously. “Now what . . . ?”

  The other horsemen, members of the Half Diamond outfit undoubtedly, since Link had been with them, disappeared on the plain below the Dome. Tommy also had seen the rider slip into the trees and had caught the name Bannister had whispered. As Bannister had previously told him everything, he knew who Link was and all about him. He was about to whisper to Bannister, when Link rode out of the shadow and back along the trail to the ford. They listened for the splash of water at the ford but no such sound came. They kept listening for what seemed an eternity and then Bannister spoke in a low tone.

  “Listen, Tommy, we’re in luck after all. That was Link . . . you remember what I told you about him, of course. He didn’t cross at the ford, and that means, I believe, that he has taken the river trail east, the same trail near which I was attacked and shot. He is going to report this night’s business to someone, perhaps Hayes. Now don’t forget where your gun is hanging and we’ll trail this ornery cuss to the hornets’ nest.”

  They rode slowly along the trail to the ford, crossed it, and climbed the slight rise to the river trail about halfway. There, Bannister dismounted and examined the ground. Sure enough, there were fresh tracks of a horse. He signaled Tommy and they went on. When they reached the intersection of the trail Bannister had been on the night he was shot, they stopped again. Once more Bannister made his examination. The tracks led on eastward. They again pushed on.

  It was the dark hour before dawn. They proceeded slowly, both keeping watch for any opening in the trees or any slope of the riverbank where Link might have taken another trail or gone into the stream. There was a faint, ghostly glimmer in the east when they came to a slope that led down to the water’s edge. There also was a narrow trail on the left.

  Bannister halted here, puzzled. The spot was somehow familiar. He looked down at the shallow waters of the river and then he had it. This was the place where Howard and he had turned west on the river trail that day when they had first gone into the badlands. He remembered Howard had said the trail below led back under the hanging banks. He dismounted and ascertained that the tracks of Link’s horse led down this gentle slope.

  “Now we’re getting close,” he said to Tommy in an undertone. “There’s a trail down there leading in under the banks. That’s where Link has gone. If I’m not mistaken, and if there aren’t too many of them, we’re going to have action soon.”

  “Suits me,” grunted Tommy, “an’ about time. I’m plumb fed up on monotony.”

  They went down the slope and found the trail, as Bannister had expected, led downstream under the banks. Many horses had passed this way and here and there a cow track could be seen along the edges of the trail. It was rapidly growing light. Ahead was a projection of rocks and earth, like an elbow thrust into the stream. When they rounded this, they pulled up their horses in surprise.

  To the left was a large open space walled in by high cutbanks. Some cattle were grazing there, and a few horses—they counted only seven. And in the foreground was a shack. Smoke trailed from the stovepipe above the roof. At the lower side of this cup in the riverbank there was a narrow strip of ground leading downstream. The two men surmised this was another entrance to the rendezvous, if it should prove to be such. They were not kept long in doubt.

  Men rushed out through the door of the cabin. Hardly knowing they did so, Bannister and Tommy counted five. Then the guns began
to bark. Bannister drove in his steel, and, as his horse leaped to the spur, the long, blue barrel of his six-shooter flashed in the cold light of the dawn.

  “Let’s take ’em!” he yelled as his gun roared.

  A man went down. Tommy was riding well to the left and his gun was popping. Another man stumbled and fell on his face. A bullet ripped leather from his saddle horn, and then they were behind the cabin, with only three antagonists left. The red light of battle flashed from Bannister’s eyes. Tommy’s lips were drawn back against his teeth as he reloaded his gun, Bannister following his example.

  “C’mon, let’s go around!” cried Tommy, and he started.

  Bannister chose the opposite corner and they dashed to the front where the door was. Two shots greeted them. Tommy’s gun roared its answer and the man who had fired at him staggered back, dropped his weapon, and fell in a sitting position. But Tommy slumped in the saddle, and then slid to the ground as the cabin door slammed shut.

  “We’ve got ’em in a rattrap!” he called, his face white.

  Bannister was at his side in a few moments. “Where you hit, Tommy?” He saw the little cowpuncher’s left arm hanging loosely and Tommy’s gun barrel came up to his left collar bone. “Just a shock,” he said. “All right in a minute.”

  Bannister caught sight of a short log lying on the ground. He picked it up and drove it as a battering ram against the door of the cabin. The door shook with the impact. Again he smashed the log against the door at the edge where the bolt should be. Something cracked. With the next blow the door broke loose and was hurled open, its fastenings splintered.

  Bannister’s gun spoke before he could see inside. There was no answering shot. All was still in the cabin. Then he saw an open window at the right side. At the same moment there came a cry from Tommy and the little cowpuncher’s six-shooter barked sharply. Bannister whirled. Dashing past them at some distance, headed straight for the river, was a small figure on a big horse. Bullets were streaking from the rider’s gun, whistling past Bannister’s head. Bannister leaped aside as he recognized this enemy. It was Le Beck. He had left the cabin through the window. He was riding bareback. With one shot left in his gun, he deliberately turned the weapon on Bannister’s horse and fired. The animal leaped in the air, stumbled to its knees, and stayed there.

  Next Le Beck was splashing across the shallow river, while Bannister ran foolishly after him with an empty gun, cursing horribly.

  A shot came from the cabin doorway at this moment. It tore through the handkerchief about Bannister’s neck on the left side. As he whirled, Tommy’s gun split the echoes and a big figure sank in a heap in the doorway. Bannister recognized Hayes’s form even before he saw his face. And a terrible face it was—contorted by pain and fear.

  “He got me in the stomach,” Hayes croaked. “If it had been any place but there . . .”

  “I reckon you deserve it,” Bannister snapped, as he dragged the big man inside, with Tommy following. With almost superhuman strength he lifted Hayes and put him on a bunk. Then he hurried out.

  The stricken horse was lying on its side, its head on the ground. Bannister knelt and took the head in his arms, muttering: “Good bye, old-timer.” Then he put a handkerchief over the glassy eyes. He ran to the cabin. “You’ll have to stay here, Tommy,” he said quickly. “I’ll send help down from the outfit. I’m going after Le Beck. He shot my horse, thinking he could slow me up on the trail, but he didn’t know how fast yours is. I’m off.”

  He hurried to Tommy’s mount, lengthened the stirrups, and swung into the saddle. Then he galloped upstream toward the river trail.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Marble was in a turmoil. Scores of rumors were rife, but gradually the word got around that the wrecking of the dam had been the work of the cattlemen along Indian River in the south. The office of the company was jammed and the street outside crowded with settlers who had already taken up their residence upon their plots. They were in a frenzy. They had been lied to and cheated. Where was the water now that had been promised? They demanded to know what the company proposed to do and the company representatives could not answer. The crazed land buyers became almost hysterical and were on the verge of riot.

  Cromer sat in his office, his face white and his eyes cold and hard. Something had to be done; a move had to be made and at once. The settlers must be quieted. Already he had withdrawn most of the men from their labors about the project and brought them into town as guards to try to preserve order. The riders who had taken after the cattlemen—Cromer knew in his heart who had done this thing—had returned. The fleeing horsemen had made fools of them, outdistanced them, and left them behind in half an hour or less. And the worst of it was that not a single one of the men who had engineered or taken part in this stroke against the project had been killed or captured. None had been recognized. What was he to prove?

  He had sent a messenger to Prairie City with word of the disaster for Sheriff Campbell. Little good that would do, he thought bitterly. Was his bubble about to burst? His eyes blazed and he brought his fist down on his desk with a blow that hurt. It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be! He flung open the door of his private office and confronted the raging crowd, holding up a hand. A great shout arose. The throng pressed against the front counter till it gave way and was thrust backward against the wall. Clerks climbed upon it to avoid being crushed. And Cromer mounted it himself, waving his arms for silence. Gradually the shouts and cries subsided.

  “There is no reason for this,” he said in a harsh, ringing voice. “The damage to our property this morning was due to the jealousy of a group of disgruntled stockmen south of here who are opposed to farming. They don’t want the land to bloom. They don’t want the soil to grow wheat and oats and alfalfa and other crops that will mean prosperity for the farmers. They have in mind only their own selfish interests. But they are only a few, with their cows, which are feeding on government land that is open to homestead entry. They are too narrow to see that the lands they do own are far more valuable for farming purposes. We expected this opposition, but we did not expect they would resort to violence. We are a big company. We have practically unlimited resources. Every buyer of a plot of land in our project will be protected!”

  He paused and wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief as a feeble cheer swelled to a roar of approval. He was winning them over. Satisfaction and confidence glowed in his face. He swept a hand before him and smiled at the throng that again was ready to listen.

  “Go home, my good people,” he said. “It is not your part to worry. Let the company do the worrying. Now that we see what attitude these blackguards in the south have taken, we know how to deal with them. We have the law and the state behind us, and you have the law and state behind you. The damage to the works will be speedily repaired. Only a small section in the middle of the dam was blown out by those raiders. It will be repaired as soon as all the water is out of the dam. And the men who perpetrated this vile deed will be punished. Remember, you are pioneers . . . all of you. Pioneers have always had to withstand hardships. But this will not be a hardship for you. Again I say, do not worry . . . for the company is responsible. We are depending upon you, and the others to come, to make this a garden spot in the West. Every resource at our disposal is at your command. In the name of the Marble Dome Land and Irrigation Company, its officers, directors, and stockholders, I pledge and promise and give my own personal word that you will be protected.”

  Cheers that shook the little building followed this life’s effort on the part of Sydney Cromer. The crowd fought its way out of the office into the street. The word was passed from mouth to mouth; Cromer’s remarks were exaggerated; the hysteria of fear changed to one of joyous excitement—the crisis passed.

  “That was a great speech, chief,” said the clerk in admiration as Cromer jumped down from the counter at the door to his private office.

  “Put that counter back where it belongs and see that everyone wears a smile today,�
� snapped Cromer viciously as he shut his door. He knew he had lied to the settlers.

  As he started for his desk, he stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing. Le Beck was standing near the rear door. As the gunman started to speak, Cromer’s hot words fairly struck him in the face.

  “Where were you?” Cromer demanded.

  “Where was I?” Le Beck’s face darkened with anger. “Don’t get cultus with me! D’ye hear?” The small, beady, black eyes flashed evilly. “I wasn’t supposed to guard the dam. I was down to see Hayes. What do you care where I was anyway? You’re not so smart yourself. You thought that Bannister was still in jail, didn’t you? I guess you think he’s there yet. Well, if you want to know, I’d be willing to bet he’s on his way to Marble this very minute.”

  “What’re you talking about?” shouted Cromer.

  “Oh, you’re interested,” sneered Le Beck. “Well, listen. Bannister isn’t in jail any more than you are, or any more than I am. If I know anything about his type of critter at all, he’s on his way here on a slow horse right this instant. He an’ some other of his stamp raided the place in the river breaks this mornin’ . . . d’ye hear? Shot down three of the gang. Pretty near got me. Link was over at the spring an’ sneaked away. I shot Bannister’s horse to slow him up on the trail. I ’spect they got Hayes. I had to leave him behind. They’ll see the worked brand in the few cattle that are in there an’ put two an’ two together, an’ . . .”

  “Shut up!” Cromer roared. “You say Bannister is out and on his way here? Then, get him! Get him, do you hear? Get him and I’ll lay ten thousand cold in your lap!”

  Le Beck’s eyes gleamed. “How do I know that?” he asked.

  “Because I tell you so,” flared Cromer. “Don’t you think it’ll be worth it to me to have that meddler knocked out of the picture? You’ll have to take my word for it, but if you know anything at all about men, you can see I mean every word I say.”