Riders Of the Dawn (1980)

by L'amour, Louis

  Slade jerked, his eyes showing incredulity. “Killed? Lot t killed?”

  “That’s right. Intentionally or otherwise he met up wit h the hombre we were following. He drilled your man righ t over the eyes. We followed on, and he found where we lef t our horses and shot them both to leave us afoot.”

  “Damn a man that’ll kill a horse,” Slade said. “Who wa s he?”

  “Don’t know,” I admitted. “Only he leaves a track lik e Morgan Park. At least, he’s got a small foot.”

  “But Park’s in jail,” Mulvaney added.

  “Not now he isn’t:’ Slade said. “Morgan Park broke jai l within an hour after darkness last night. He pulled one o f those iron bars right out of that old wall, stole a horse, an d got away. He’s on the loose and after somebody’s scalp.”

  Park free! But the man we had followed had not been a s big as Park was. I did not tell them that. “How about th e horses?” I asked.

  “You can have them, Sabre,” Slade said grudgingly. “I’m clearing out. I’ve no stomach for this sort of thing.”

  “Are they spares?”

  Slade nodded. “We’ve a half dozen extras. In our business it . pays to keep fresh horses.” He grinned. “No har d feelin’s, Sabre?”

  “Not me,” I said. “Only don’t you boys get any wil d ideas about jumping game. My trigger finger is right jittery.”

  Slade shrugged wryly. “With two guns on us? Not likely.

  I don’t know whether your partner can shoot or not, but wit h a cannon that big he doesn’t need to. What kind of gun i s that, anyway?”

  “She’s my own make,” Mulvaney said cheerfully, “bu t the slug kills just as dead.”

  “Give this hombre an old stovepipe and he’d make a cannon.” I told them. “He’s a genius with tools.”

  While Mulvaney got the horses I stood over the camp.

  “Any other news in town?” I asked Slade.

  “Plenty!” he admitted. “Some Army officer came int o town claimin’ Park killed his brother. Seems a right salt y gent, And”—his eyes flickered to mine—“Bodie Miller i s talkin’ it big around town. He says you’re his meat.”

  “He’s a heavy eater, that boy,” I said carelessly. “He may tackle something one of these days that will give hi m indigestion.”

  Jack Slade shrugged and watched Mulvaney lead th e horses up. As we mounted, I glanced back at him. “We’l l leave these horses at the corral of the livery stable in town, i f you like.”

  Slade’s eyes twinkled a little. “Better not. First time yo u get a chance take ‘em to a corral you’ll find in the woods bac k of Armstrong’s. Towns don’t set well with me, nor me wit h them.”

  The horses were fresh and ready to go, and we let the m run. Daylight found us riding up the street of Hattan’s, a town that was silent and waiting. The loft was full of hay, an d both of us headed for it. Two hours later I was wide awake.

  Splashing water on my face I headed for O’Hara’s. The firs t person I saw as we came through the door was Key Chapin.

  Olga Maclaren was with him.

  Chapin looked up as we entered. -Sorry, Sabre,” h e said. “I’ve just heard.”

  “Heard what?” I was puzzled.

  “That you’re losing the Two Bar.”

  “Are you crazy? What are you talking about?”

  “You mean you haven’t heard? Jake Booker showed u p the other day and filed a deed to the Two Bar. He purchase d the rights to it from Ball’s nephew, the legitimate heir. He also has laid claim to the Bar M, maintaining that it was neve r actually owned by Rud Maclaren, but belonged to his brother-i n-law, now dead. Booker has found some relative of th e brother-in-law and bought his right to the property.”

  “Well, of all the— That’s too flimsy, Chapin. He can’t hope to get away with that! What’s on his mind?”

  Chapin shrugged. “If he goes to court he can make i t tough. You have witnesses to the fact that Ball gave you th e ranch, but whether that will stand in court, I don’t know , especially, with a shrewd operator like Booker fighting it. A s to Maclaren, it turns out he did leave the ranch to hi s brother-in-law during a time some years ago when he wa s suffering from a gunshot wound, and apparently never mad e another will. What’s important right now is that Jake is goin g to court to get both you and Olga off the ranches, and h e plans to freeze all sales, bank accounts, and other money o r stock until the case is settled.”

  “In other words, he doesn’t want us to have the mone y to fight him.”

  Chapin shrugged. “I don’t know what his idea is, but I’l l tell you one thing. He stands in well with the judge, who i s just about as crooked as he is, and they’ll use your reputatio n against you. Don’t think Booker hasn’t considered all the angles, and don’t think he doesn’t know how flimsy his case ma y be. He’ll bolster it every way possible, and he knows ever y trick in the book.”

  I sat down. This had come so suddenly that it took th e wind out of my sails. “Has this news gone to the Bar M yet?

  Has it got out to Canaval?”

  Chapin shrugged. “Why should it? He was only th e foreman. Olga has been told, and you can imagine how sh e feels.”

  My eyes went to hers, and she looked away. Katie O’Har a came in, and I gave her my order for breakfast and tried th e coffee she had brought with her. It tasted good.

  As I sat there my mind began to work swiftly. There wa s still a chance, if I figured things right. Jake Booker was n o fool. He had not paid out money for those claims unless h e believed he could make them stand in court. He knew abou t how much money I had and knew that Olga Maclaren, wit h the ranch bank accounts frozen, would be broke. Neither o f us could afford to hire an attorney, and so far as that went , there was no attorney within miles able to cope with Booker.

  What had started as a range war had degenerated into a rang e steal by a shyster lawyer, and he had arguments that coul d not be answered with a gun.

  “How was Canaval when you left?”

  “Better,” Olga said, still refusing to meet my eyes.

  “What about Morgan Park? I heard he escaped.”

  “Tharp’s out after him now. That Colonel D’Arcy wen t with him and the posse. There had been a horse left for Park.

  Who was responsible for that, we don’t know, but it ma y have been one of his own men.”

  “Where did Tharp go?”

  “Toward the ranch, I think. There was no trail the y could find.”

  “They should have gone east, toward Dark Canyon. That’s where hell be.”

  Chapin looked at me curiously, intently. ”Why there?”

  “That’s where hell go,” I replied definitely. “Take m y word for it.”

  They talked a little between them, but I ate in silence , always conscious of the girl across the table, aware of he r every move.

  Finishing my meal, I got up and reached for my hat.

  Olga looked up quickly. “Don’t go out there! Bodie Miller i s in town!”

  -Thanks.” Our eyes met and held. Were they sayin g something to me? Or was I reading into their depths th e meaning. I wanted them to hold? “Thanks,” I repeated. “I’d prefer not to meet him now. This is no time for persona l grudges.”

  It was a horse I wanted, a better horse than the on e borrowed from Slade, which might have been stolen. This, I r eflected dryly, would be a poor time to be hung as a hors e thief. There was no gate at the corral on this side, so I c limbed over, crossing the corral. At the corner I stopped i n my tracks. A horse was tied to the corral, a horse strippe d but recently of a saddle, a dun horse that showed evidence o f hard riding! And in the damp earth near the trough was a boot print. Kneeling, I examined the hocks of the tied horse.

  From one of them I picked a shred of wool and then another.

  Spinning around I raced for the restaurant. “Katie!” I demanded. “Who owns that horse? Did you see the rider?”

  “If you’re thinkin’ of Park, that horse couldn’t carry hi m fa
r. An’ he would not stay in the town. Not him.”

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  “Nobody—wait a minute ! I did so. ‘Twas Jake Booker.

  Not that I saw him with the horse, but a bit before dayligh t he came around the corner from that way and asked if I’d coffee ready.

  Booker! He had small feet. He was in with Park. He wanted Maclaren dead. He had killed Slade’s man and sho t our horses. Booker had some explaining to do.

  Mulvaney was crawling from the loft where I’d slept bu t was all attention at once. He listened and then ran to th e stable office. Waiting only until he was on a horse and racin g from town, I started back to O’Hara’s. My mind was mad e up.

  The time had come for a showdown, and this time w e would all be in it, and Jake Booker would not be forgotten.

  Key Chapin looked up when I came in. “Key,” I sai d quickly, “this is the payoff. Find out for me where Booker is.

  Get somebody to keep an eye on him. He’s not to leave tow n if he tries. Keep him under observation all the time unti l Mulvaney gets back from the ranch.”

  Turning to Olga, I asked her, “How about Canaval?”

  Can he ride yet? Could he stand a buckboard trip?”

  She hesitated. “He couldn’t ride, but he might stand i t in the buckboard.”

  “Then get him into town, and have the boys come wit h him, Fox especially. I like that man Fox, and Canaval ma y need protection. Bring him in, and bring him here.”

  “What is it? What have you learned?” Chapin demanded.

  “About everything I need to know,” I replied. “We’r e going to save the Bar M for Olga, and perhaps we’ll save m y ranch, too. In any event, we’ll have the man who killed Rud Maclaren !”

  “What?” Olga’s face was pale. “Matt, do you mean that?”

  “I do. I only hope that Tharp gets back with Morga n Park, but I doubt if we’ll see him again.” Turning to Key , who was at the door. “Another thing. We might as well settle i t all. Send a rider to the CP and have Jim Pinder in here. Ge t him here fast. We’ll have our showdown the first thing in th e morning.”

  Twice I walked up the street and back. Nowhere wa s there any sign of Bodie Miller or of Red, his riding partner.

  The town still had that sense of expectancy that I had notice d upon coming into town. And they were right—for a lot o f things were going to happen and happen fast.

  Key met me in the saloon. He walked toward me quickly , his face alive with interest. “What have you got in mind , Matt? What are you planning?”

  “Several things. In the first place, there has been enoug h fighting and trouble. We’re going to end it right here. We’r e going to close up this whole range fight. There aren’t going t o be any halfway measures. How well do you know Tharp?”

  “Very well, why?”

  “Will he throw his weight with us? It would mean a lot i f he would.”

  “You can bank on him. He’s a solid man, Matt. Ver y solid.”

  “All right, in the morning then. In the morning we’l l settle everything!”

  There was a slight movement at the door and I looke d up. My pulse almost stopped with the shock of it.

  Bodie Miller stood there, his hands on his hips, his lip s smiling. “Why, sure!” he said. “If that’s what you want. Th e morning is as good a time a s 12

  Chapter 12

  The sun came up clear and hot. Already at daybreak the sk y was without-a cloud, and the distant mountains seemed t o shimmer in a haze of their own making. The desert lost itsel f in heat waves before the day had scarce begun, and there wa s a stillness lying upon both desert and town, a sort of poise d awareness without sound.

  When I emerged upon the street I was alone. Like a town of ghosts, the street was empty, silent except for th e echo of my steps on the boardwalk. Then, as if their soun d had broken the spell, the saloon door opened and the bartender emerged and began to sweep off the walk. He glance d quickly around at me, bobbed his head, and then with a n uneasy look around, finished his sweeping hurriedly and ducke d back inside. A man carrying two wooden buckets emerge d from an alley and looked cautiously about. Assured there wa s no one in sight he started across the street, glancing apprehensively first in one direction, then the other.

  Sitting down in one of the polished chairs before th e saloon I tipped back my hat and stared at the mountains. In a few minutes or a few hours, I might be dead.

  It was not a good morning on which to die—but wha t morning is? Yet in a few minutes or hours another man an d myself would probably meet out there in that street, and w e would exchange shots, and one or both of us would die.

  A rider came into the street, Mulvaney. He left his hors e at the stable and clumped over to me. He was carryin g enough guns to fight a war.

  “Comin’ Mulvaney said, “the whole kit an’ kaboodl e of ‘em. Be here within the hour. Jolly’s already in town.

  Jonathan went after the others.”

  Nodding, I watched a woman looking down the stree t from the second floor. Suddenly she turned and left th e window as if she had seen something or been called.

  “Eat yet?” -

  “Not yet.-

  “Seen Olga? Or Chapin?”

  “No.

  “If Red cuts in this scrap,” Mulvaney said, “he’s mine.”

  “You can have him.”

  A door slammed somewhere, and then the man with th e two wooden buckets hurried fearfully across the street, slopping water at every step. “All right,” I said, “well go eat.”

  There was no sign of Bodie Miller or of Jim Pinder.

  Sheriff Tharp was still out hunting Morgan Park. Unless h e got back soon, I’d have to run my show alone.

  Mother O’Hara had a white tablecloth over the oilcloth , and her best dishes were out. She brought me coffee and sai d severely, ”You should be ashamed. That girl laid awake hal f the night, thinkin’ of nothin’ but you!”

  “About me?” I was incredulous.

  “Yes, about you! Worried fair sick, she is! About you an’ t hat Bodie Miller!”

  The door opened and Olga walked in. Her eyes wer e very green today, and her hair was drawn back to a loose kno t at the back of her neck, but curled slightly into two waves o n her forehead. She avoided my glance, and it was well she di d or I’d have come right out of my chair.

  Then men entered the restaurant—Chapin, looking unusually severe, Colonial D’Arcy, and last of all, Jake Booker.

  D’Arcy caught my eye, and a slow smile started on hi s lips. “Sabre! Well, I’m damned! The last time I saw Sabre h e was in China!”

  He took my hand and we grinned at each other. He wa s much older than I, but we talked the same language. His hai r was gray at the temples. “They say you’ve had trouble wit h Cantwell. “

  “And more to come if the sheriff doesn’t get him. Park i s mixed up in a shady deal with Jake Booker, the man acros s the table from me.”

  “I?” Booker smiled, but his eyes were deadly. “You’r e mistaken, Mr. Sabre. It is true that Mr. Park asked me t o represent him in some trouble he was having, but we’ve n o other connection. None at all.”

  Jim Pinder stalked in at that moment, but knowing tha t Mulvaney and Jolly were watching, I ignored him.

  “From the conversation I overheard in Silver Reef,” I s aid to Booker, “I gathered you had obtained a buyer fo r some mining property he expected you to have.”

  Fury flickered across his face. He had no idea how muc h I knew.

  “It might interest you to know, Booker, that the fightin g in this area is over. Pinder is here, and we’re having a peac e meeting. Pinder is making a deal with us and with the Bar M.

  The fun’s over.”

  “I ain’t said nothin’ about no deal,” Pinder declare d harshly. “I come in because I figured you was ready to sell.”

  “I might buy, Pinder, but I wouldn’t sell. Furthermore , I’m with Chapin and Tharp in organizing this peace move.

&n
bsp; You can join or stay out, but if you don’t join you’ll have t o haul supplies from Silver Reef. This town will he closed t o you. Each of us who has been in this fight is to put up a bon d to keep the peace, effective at daybreak tomorrow. You ca n join or leave the country.”

  “After you killed my brother?” Pinder demanded. Yo u ask for peace?”

  “You started the trouble in the livery stable figuring yo u were tough enough to hire me or run me out of the country.

  You weren’t big enough for fast enough then, and you aren’t now. Nobody doubts your nerve. You’ve too much for you r own good, and so have the lot of us, but it gets us nothing bu t killing and more killing. You can make money on the CP, o r you can try to buck the country.

  “As for Rollie, he laid for me and he got what he aske d for. You’re a hard man, Pinder, but you’re no fool, and I’v e an idea you’re square. Isn’t it true Rollie stared out to ge t me?”

  Pinder hesitated, rubbing his angular jaw. “It is,” he sai d finally, “hut that don’t make no—”

  “It makes a lot of difference,” I replied shortly. “No w look, Pinder. You’ve lost more than you’ve cost us. You nee d money. You can’t ship cattle. You sign up or you’ll neve r ship any! Everybody here knows you’ve nerve enough to fac e me, but everybody knows you’d die. All you’d prove woul d be that you’re crazy. You know I’m the faster man.”

  He stared stubbornly at the table. Finally he said, “I’l l think it over. It’ll take some time.”

  “It’ll take you just two minutes,” I said, laying it on th e line.

  He stared hard at me, his knuckles whitening on th e arm of the chair. Suddenly, reluctantly, he grinned. Sinkin g back into his chair, he shrugged. “You ride a man hard , Sabre. All right, peace it is.”

  ‘Thanks. Pinder.” I thrust out my hand. He hesitate d and then took it.

  Katie O’Hara filled his cup.

  “Look,” he said suddenly, “I’ve got to make a drive. Th e only way there’s water is across Your place.”