Ambler got to his feet. “When do we move, partner?”
“Now,” Fry snapped. “The quicker the better.”
It had been several years since Hugh Ambler had lived by his fast gun, and he had hoped that those days would not catch up with him. But they had, and he examined his feelings and found that he was going into this thing with all the cool nerveless ease which had helped him before. Nothing was changed. His plans were in jeopardy and he would have to eliminate a couple of men who were in his way. It was just that simple.
“Have you thought of anything to cover us?” Ambler asked.
He was thinking that Fry had manufactured some scheme which would throw the burden of guilt on Ambler, and he was not surprised at Fry’s answer.
“I’ve thought of that, and the answer is so simple that it will be foolproof. Woodbine was at your place alone today. After he’s taken care of, you can simply say that Woodbine caught you unarmed, charged you with rustling his stock, and threatened to shoot you on sight the next time he caught you armed. You would then be justified in defending yourself. Simple, and who can deny your statements?”
“As I recall it,” Ambler said slyly, “you were going to be in on this. What’s your alibi?”
“The same. Woodbine seemed to have lost his head and was going around threatening all of us. I ran into him near your place here and he told me the same.”
“Simple enough, all right. But who’s going to believe it?”
“With him dead, who’s going to deny it? In the present case, I don’t think we could back up a very elaborate yam, do you?”
“Suits me,” Ambler agreed, convinced that Fry intended to turn his own gun on Ambler the minute Ambler had killed Woodbine, and then would have an entirely different story of his own to tell. This did not worry Ambler, for he intended to beat Fry to that trick. Only one of the three men involved could live, and Ambler expected to be that man. Therein lay his only safety.
“One more thing,” Ambler said. “Just where and when are we going to corner this gent?”
“One of my boys saw him riding to town with Doc Ellis. I imagine he’s trying to persuade a committee to take you and me out and string us up, and then give us a fair trial. I’ve got three of my regular riders that are not too squeamish to lay a gun on Woodbine if there’s a little bonus goes with the job. We’ll go by my house and pick them up, and then we’ll go on into town, scatter out and find Woodbine, and settle this business once for all.”
“I’ll saddle up,” Ambler said, “and be with you in a minute. Way things are now, what can we lose?”
* * * *
In a place where there was formalized law, this group of men would have been called a Grand Jury, but in Ashfork, where there was no legal structure, and there were no officers representing any form of government, it was merely a committee of responsible business men and ranchers who had been invited by Merle Roberson to come into the private room in the back of his store and hear the details of a situation which affected them all. They could hear the facts that were presented to them, and if the facts seemed to warrant action, they could take it upon themselves to appoint certain others of the decent element to act as a court and execute any judgments handed down by that court. Such a court might under other circumstances be called a Kangaroo Court, and be subject to criticism, but in the circumstances under which these people lived, it was the only means they had of governing themselves.
There now sat in Roberson’s room a dozen men whose integrity and fairness could not be questioned, and at the head of the pine table around which they were gathered, there sat old Enos Churchill, his shoulders bent with the weight of his hard years, and his face seamed by his experiences of the good and the bad in mankind, yet for all the lawlessness he had seen and been a part of, there was on his countenance the mellowing patina of a life well and justly lived.
Merle Roberson undertook to explain the gathering of these men in secret while Woodbine, who sat beside him, listened.
“You know, of course, that there has been some disagreement between Jim Woodbine and Noble Fry about Jim’s intention of fencing his place. The things he has to tell you do not have any bearing on that problem, though that problem is what caused these things to come to a head.
“You will remember that my brother-in-law, Ab Sterling, was shot about a year ago or less in what was supposed to have been a hunting accident. Woodbine happened to see the bullet that was taken from Ab’s body, and it was not a bullet which could have been fired from Ab’s Winchester, but a lead one, such as is used in old Krag ammunition. Having nothing to go on but a suspicion, Jim kept the bullet and said nothing, but recently he found that Moody Shay owned a Krag. He had hoped to prove that Moody Shay killed Ab, possibly at the instigation of somebody else.
“But Moody was shot and killed this morning under circumstances which those of us who were there consider to be outright murder. No one actually saw the shot or shots fired which killed Moody, but the whole affair points to one conclusion; if it was murder, it well could have been for the purpose of silencing Moody Shay, so that he could not testify against anybody else in the case of the murder of Ab. We base this belief on the fact that Moody Shay was mortally wounded but not killed outright by the first shot that struck him, and so couldn’t have put up a fight, but he was later shot through the head and instantly killed at close range while a dozen of us were within close enough distance of the affair for our horses’ hoof-beats to have been heard. What other purpose but to silence him, could a man have for killing a mortally wounded man?
“Woodbine can be considered to have a personal quarrel with Noble Fry, so he would not want to pass judgment in the matter. And I, as Virginia Sterling’s uncle, would have to disqualify myself on account of a personal interest also.
“So we have asked you to come here to listen to the case Woodbine makes, to call such witnesses as can verify the things he says, and decide whether you think there is cause for a court to be appointed to establish the guilt or innocence of Noble Fry. Jim, if they’re ready, tell them your story.”
Jim Woodbine stood up and placed the old Krag bullet on the table, and beside it he placed the two bullets removed from the body of Moody Shay. And then he told them his story from beginning to end, indicating the things which were proven facts and the others which were surmises. He quoted Doctor Ellis’ opinion on the death of Moody Shay. He told them about the stolen cattle, and about tracing them back to Ambler’s Deerlick operations, and pointed out that they might not be connected with the case at all. He told them about the money found on Shay, and about Fry’s failure to mention ownership or loss of it.
When Jim was through talking, Merle went out and came back with Moody Shay’s Krag and the package of money. The committee matched the lead with that in the remaining live ammunition. They sent out for Doctor Ellis, and for Race Greer and other members of the posse, questioned them under promise of secrecy about the proceedings, and dismissed them.
Later they asked Jim Woodbine and Merle Roberson to leave the room while they discussed their findings and came to their decision. They were closeted and discussed the matter among themselves for an hour, and then sent for Merle Roberson and Jim Woodbine.
Old Enos Churchill said, “We are convinced that Moody Shay killed Ab Sterling, and it may have been at Noble Fry’s instigation, but with Shay dead, there is nothing but speculation for us to go on, and so we do not feel that Noble Fry can be tried for Ab’s death.
“But even though the evidence is circumstantial, we believe that Noble Fry murdered Shay. It is a pretty close thing, for if Fry or any of us had caught Shay running our cattle off, and if Shay had fought back, we would have killed Shay, and it would have been the only right thing to do. But as the evidence and the witnesses prove, that wasn’t the case. There’s no evidence that Shay put up a fight, and in fact, when the posse came up, Fry had his pistol in his hand and
his rifle leaning against a tree. There’s no evidence that Shay tried to, or even had the means of defending himself. We believe that Noble Fry should be tried for murder. And we believe that Hugh Ambler should be tried for cattle rustling while we’re at it.
“We will appoint a judge and a jury, and a man to prosecute the case. Also, Fry will have a man to defend him. Fry will have to be brought in, and it may not suit him to acknowledge our right to try him. Woodbine, in the light of the fact that it is you who have brought this matter up, and since there might be some risk to innocent people in trying to pick Fry up and turn him over to the committee, it would seem only just that we appoint you to bring him in.”
“If that is the wish of the committee, I will try to bring him to you,” Woodbine answered.
CHAPTER 13
The Web Grows Tight
As Woodbine walked towards the front door of Roberson’s store he was still feeling his surprise at the committee’s decision to have him pick Noble Fry up. Roberson, who went with him to the door, said:
“It might make more sense than it looks like, and I kinda lay that idea to Enos. Call it a kind of test. If Noble Fry is on solid ground, he’ll be glad to get the chance to clear his name. If he’s got a sense of guilt, he might object and put up a fight, and show his hand. And since you’re the man that unearthed the trouble, it wouldn’t be right to have somebody else fighting your battle for you, and maybe get killed. And on the other hand, since the committee thinks he’s guilty, if you and Noble did fight about it, well, you’d kind of have official backing. I reckon it’s not a bad idea, at that.”
Roberson turned to wait on a woman customer who called to him, and Woodbine turned to go out. As he stepped out on to the boardwalk, he met Amy Churchill. Amy was gay, like a girl with a new toy.
“Hello, Jim,” she smiled. “I was looking for my Pops. See him anywhere?”
“Yes, he’s busy with some men in the back room right now,” Jim returned. “You look happy.”
“Who wouldn’t be, with the Easter dance coming up in another two weeks. I made Pops bring me down to Mrs. Turner’s. She’s making me the prettiest dress you ever saw. Now, if I’m lucky enough to have some poor lonesome cowpoke offer to take me to the dance, I’ll be ready.”
Jim’s eyes caught the sight of a buggy coming out of the dusk, and he was watching it and did not see the coy look she gave him.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said absently. “You’re pretty enough to get all the escorts you can handle.”
“Do you think so?” she asked. “Are you going?”
The buggy pulled up at the livery stable, and Woodbine watched the two occupants get out. He did not have a ready answer for the girl, and she saw where his attention lay. Old Bob Burnham had got out of the buggy and was helping Virginia Sterling to alight.
“Lot of people in town tonight,” the girl said with a trace of malice in her voice.
“Yes,” Woodbine answered vaguely. “Well, it was nice seeing you again. I’ll have to run along.”
He started to leave, but the girl took his arm. “Jim,” she said, and there was an intense quality about her voice that brought Woodbine’s attention back to her. “Jim, I’ve got to tell you something.”
He looked at her, and she did not release his arm as she glanced down the street and saw Virginia Sterling watching her.
“You know, Jim, that our families have always been close together. We’ve been good friends. You were kind enough to promise you wouldn’t tell Pops about me seeing Hugh Ambler. Well, I can repay the favor, Jim. I wouldn’t tell you so much of my private affairs if it weren’t that I thought you and I were so close together.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve married him?”
“No, Jim, and I won’t. He’s bad. I’ve just learned it, and from his own lips. He intends to help destroy you, or at least stand by and watch you destroyed, and then step in and take your land. He might have even killed you if he’d had to. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Thanks for telling me.” Woodbine assured her. “But don’t let him worry you. I’m not worried about his hurting me.”
The girl’s hand gave his arm an increased pressure as her glance went again towards Virginia Sterling, who was approaching with Bob Burnham. “But I am, Jim. I’m terribly worried.”
“Forget it, like I’m going to do,” Jim Woodbine answered. He tipped his hat. “I’ll see you later. Right now I’ve got an errand to do.”
He walked on down and met Bob Burnham and Virginia, and he was thinking of that last sight of her, when he had kissed her and she had turned and fled. He had not had much time to ponder that action, and he did not know how she felt towards him.
When he stopped before them he studied her face and knew that she was laboring under some great emotion. He did not know what it was, but he suspected that she was unforgivably angry with him.
Without waiting for a greeting, she asked, “Jim, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” He did not like dissembling, but it was difficult to follow the workings of her alert mind, and he had no intention of criticizing Noble Fry to her, and thus arousing her defence of the man. He wanted that to come from others after they had decided the matter.
She was blunt under the stress of her emotions. “Bob told me everything. I knew something was in the air when he stayed out all night, and I made him tell me. Why hadn’t you told me these things before?” Bob quickly interjected his defence, but there was a sheepish look about him. “Look, Jim,” he said. “I explained that you would not make those charges against Noble until you knew absolutely what you was doing, but you know how she is. She just wormed it out of me.”
“Forget it, Bob,” Woodbine answered, then said to Virginia, “I know Fry is a friend of yours. I’m not trying to persecute him, nor to drive him out of the country. If he’s all right, I’ll face the music. You shouldn’t have come to town tonight.”
He still could not tell what was in the girl’s mind, but she offered a reason for being here. “I came to see Merle,” she explained. “I’ve got to know what the end of this is going to be.”
“It might be a good idea for you to talk to him,” Woodbine agreed. He saw that Bob had not completely convinced her of Fry’s character, and that her belief in the man was not dying easily.
“It might be a good idea for you to see him with me. Or it might be a still better idea, if we could find Noble, for us all to sit down and talk it over,” she countered.
This hurt him. He looked at her with eyes that had been made to see her anew after the kiss of last night, and there were in her things that he had not seen before. She was no longer a tomboyish neighbor girl with a freckled face and an ability to torment the life out of a young fellow, but she was a beautiful woman, with the depths of a woman’s nature, and the spirit and the fire, and the promise of a great and unfailing love for the man who won her.
These things he saw, and it came to him that he had seen them too late. His chance had come and gone without his having had the eyes to see it. His instinct told him that by attacking the man she had so admired he had destroyed his own chances of winning her loyalty, for she was not the one to have been won by such a trick.
Woodbine saw that he could not come to her under such circumstances, and yet this impasse was not of his deliberate making. He had set about fencing his place for his own sound reasons. He had hoped to convince her of the soundness of her doing the same, and when this had failed, he had felt convinced that while he was doing the job Noble Fry would somehow reveal to Virginia that his reasons for not wanting the fences up were based entirely on greed, and that this would in turn convince her that she would do right to fence her own land before Fry had destroyed its worth. That was his sole purpose, and it was a far cry from fighting a man for this girl’s affections.
The bitter thought came to him now as he l
ooked at her loveliness that in fighting to protect the interests of a friend he had destroyed his chances for happiness.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a sudden weariness, “but I can’t go with you right now. I’ve got an errand to do.”
Virginia looked at him queerly, and said, “She’s pretty, isn’t she? And mysterious.”
“Who?” Woodbine’s face was blank with surprise.
“Amy. She’s a lovely girl, and the man who gets her is to be congratulated.”
Amy Churchill had been so far from Woodbine’s mind that it took him a long moment to understand the thing that Virginia had meant to imply.
“I haven’t time for dates right now,” he said, and watched her take Bob’s arm and walk towards Roberson’s store.
Then he turned and went down to a side street restaurant where he ordered supper. It was dark now, and he was tired and hungry, and not in a good mood. Somehow all the things he had gone through in the last two days did not seem worth the trouble. He did not relish having to ride out to Fry’s and bring the man in.
Old Race Greer was sitting in front of his Elite Livery Stable with his chair leaned back against the wall under the light over the entrance doors when five horsemen rode in out of the dark and dismounted. Race got up and came in to take over the animals.
“Howdy, Noble. Howdy, Ambler. Town’s kinda fillin’ up tonight. You’d think there was a dance or something.”
Fry was in no mood for humor, and he said, “Don’t unsaddle ’em. Just water and feed ’em, and then put the bridles back on and leave ’em standing.”
“Reckon you ain’t staying long,” Greer commented.
“No, we’re not. You said the town was filling up. Who all is in?”
The Sixth Western Novel Page 54