Ralph Compton Ride the Hard Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “What are they doing here?”

  “I pay them partly in food,” Etta June said while upending cooked cut green beans into a bowl.

  “So that is why they were in here so long last night.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing. But doesn’t it strike you as improper to feed them in your house? Were it to get out, your reputation would be tarnished.”

  “Oh, please. Not a soul who knows me would ever accuse me of being a loose woman. What would you have me do? Make them eat in the stable?”

  “It is good enough for my men,” Montfort pointed out.

  “They brought that on themselves. I would have invited them in but I could not count on them to behave. Now, will you desist so we can get on with our supper?”

  Seth Montfort fell silent. But the look he gave Lin was a look of pure hatred.

  Chapter 9

  Lin could hear each crunch, each sip. No one said anything. It was unnatural.

  Seth Montfort was so mad, apparently he did not trust himself to speak. He attacked his food as if out to destroy it. He did not cut his meat so much as hack at it, and he speared each morsel with his fork as if intending to kill it all over again.

  Etta June ate quietly, her gaze fixed in front of her.

  The children sensed that something was amiss and did not joke and laugh as they normally would.

  Chancy was silent too, lost in his own thoughts.

  Lin refused to let Montfort spoil their meal. He took it as long as he could; then he coughed and said to Etta June, “How many of the cattle do you aim to sell once we have all of them branded?”

  Etta June smiled as if grateful. “I don’t know yet. I must go over the books. We have built up the herd to where we can part with a goodly number, but I don’t want to sell too many. We still have a lot of herd building to do.”

  “That sounds wise,” Lin praised her. “Unless there is a die-off, in a few years you can buy yourself fancy clothes and whatever else you want.”

  “My needs are simple,” Etta June said. “A roof over our heads and clothes on my children, and to eat regular. All the rest of it is frills.”

  Chancy broke his silence. “That is darned sensible for a woman.”

  “You are one of those, then?” Etta June said, but she grinned.

  “One of what? You know I am right. Some women are not content with what they need. They have to have everything they want, as well. Clothes, carriages, servants—you name it.” Chancy chuckled. “Why, I hear there is one rancher’s wife who takes a trip to Europe each year.”

  “That will not be me,” Etta June said. “I have simple tastes. My Tom used to complain they are too simple, that I should treat myself now and again.”

  Seth Montfort stopped stabbing his food. “Your husband was right. You deserve to reap the fruits of your labors. You are an exceptional woman, but you have your flaws.”

  Lin grew warm once more, but not the pleasant warm as when Etta June touched him. “How is it you do not have a wife of your own?”

  About to lift his coffee cup, Montfort jerked his head as if he had been hit on the chin. “That is a personal question. But to be polite I will answer it.” He took a sip. “I have simply been too busy building up the Bar M. The work never ends. From dawn until eight or nine at night, seven days a week, month in and month out. I simply have not had the time to spare for courting.”

  Chancy said without looking at him, “If you ever get down Cheyenne way, there are plenty of females to be had.”

  “I have my sights set closer to home,” Montfort said, and bestowed a glance on Etta June.

  Lin grew so mad he had to look down at his food so it would not be obvious.

  Again the table became quiet.

  Etta June picked at her carrots, then set her fork down and stared at Montfort. “We might as well settle this once and for all. I respect you, Seth, but you would be better off looking elsewhere. I am not ready to remarry. I am not sure I even want to.”

  “Perhaps another time would be more appropriate for us to discuss it, my dear.”

  “I am not your dear, and now is as good a time as any. I should have told you months ago and not let you get your hopes up.”

  “When I want something I generally acquire it.”

  “I am not a bull or a cow or land,” Etta June said. “I am a grown woman with a mind of my own and the right to choose who I will be with.” She paused. “Even if I were thinking of remarrying, it would not be to a man who threatens my best friends.”

  “So that is why you are so testy,” Montfort said. “I suspected that Mrs. Dixon’s visit would not bode well.”

  “Who told you she came to see me?”

  Montfort hesitated. “No one. I suspected she would, is all.”

  “She is afraid for her family, Seth.”

  “She has reason to be.”

  “They are as honest as I am,” Etta June declared. “Cody Dixon would never steal your cattle. He would never rustle, period.”

  Montfort smiled smugly. “Tracks don’t lie. I have given him fair warning, as I have Aven Magill. If they are smart, they will pack up and leave before I must take steps to protect my interests.”

  “Wait. You have been to see Aven?”

  “He is a stubborn old coot. I demanded to inspect his herd cattle, but he refused to let me.”

  “You accused him of rustling too?” Etta June’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to, Seth?”

  Montfort forked a piece of beef into his mouth. “I am doing something I should have done long ago. I was here before the Dixons. My mistake was in letting them settle.”

  “You were not here before Aven Magill,” Etta June said. “By your way of thinking, he should not have let you build your ranch.”

  “That is neither here nor there,” Montfort said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The important thing now—the only thing that matters—is that my cattle are being stolen and I intend to put a stop to it by whatever means necessary.”

  “Oh, Seth.”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I am not the first big rancher who has had to take steps to protect himself from those who would build up their herds the easy way at his expense rather than by the sweat of their brows.”

  “Cody Dixon is the hardest-working man I know.”

  “You make it seem as if everything I say is wrong or a lie,” Montfort said peevishly.

  “The Big Horns are not big enough for any ranch but yours? Is that how it is?” Etta June asked. “Where do me and mine fit in? Surely you are not going to accuse me of rustling.”

  “Never, my dear.” Montfort placed his elbows on the table. “Since you insist on bringing this up in front of your hired help, I will be frank. I hope to join the Bar M and the EJ together. Not by driving you off and taking it over, but by the two becoming one, if you will.” His face split in a grin.

  “And if I oppose your land grab? If I side with the Dixons and Aven Magill against you?”

  Montfort straightened. “Have you listened to a word I have said? You make me out to be the villain when I am the victim.”

  “I see what you are up to. Your groundless accusations. The quick-draw artists. Your infatuation with me.”

  Lin stopped eating. It had occurred to him that he and his brother had blundered onto the outset of a range war.

  “Etta, Etta, Etta,” Montfort said, his tone patronizing. “You have it all wrong. In all that I do, I will be legal and aboveboard.”

  “Only so you do not end up in prison.”

  Montfort sighed and took his napkin from his lap and placed it by his plate. “You are ruining my appetite.”

  “Don’t do it, Seth,” Etta June said. “There is enough range for everyone. Don’t turn the Big Horns red with blood.”

  Lin could tell she was wasting her breath. Montfort had made up his mind, and no amount of pleading on her part could change it.

  Chancy pushed his chair back. “Say the word, m
a’am, and there will be no blood spilled but his.”

  Seth Montfort came partway out of his seat. “Murder me and my men will appoint you the guest of honor at a string party!”

  “Enough of such talk!” Etta June said sternly. “My children are present, in case you have forgotten.”

  “My apologies, ma’am,” Chancy said. “But my offer holds, whether here and now or elsewhere and later.”

  Montfort had sat back down, but he was a study in suppressed fury. “Is this how I am to be treated, Etta June? You invite me to your house and force me to share your table with these drifters. You make all sorts of wild accusations. And now you don’t object when this young simpleton threatens me?”

  “Who are you calling simple?” Chancy snapped.

  Etta June held out her hands. “Please. Both of you. I want us to get along, not be enemies.”

  “I know who my friends are, and it is not these two,” Seth Montfort declared. He stood. “I am sorry. I will only abide so much. If you want me over again, I look forward to coming. But don’t bother if you include your new hands. I will have nothing more to do with them.”

  Lin had listened to enough. He stood too, towering over the table, and over Montfort, who took a step back. “You would be wise to listen to her. Start a range war and you will suffer the same as everyone else.”

  “Another threat,” Montfort said. Wheeling, he stalked toward the hall, but stopped and looked back at Etta June. “I will give you a month to decide whose side you are on. Get rid of your new hands while you are at it.”

  “I will feel the same in a month as I do now. And I hire who I like, thank you very much.”

  Montfort took his bowler off a peg. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am, my dear. For a year now I have bided my time, but I will not bide it forever. A change is coming, and it is my fondest desire that you are a part of it, and not against it.” With that, he wheeled and stomped out.

  “Well,” Etta June said.

  “Good riddance.” From Chancy.

  Little Beth leaned toward Etta June and whispered loud enough that all of them heard. “Why was Mr. Montfort so mad, Ma?”

  “He is not nice,” Tom Jr. said.

  Etta June folded her arms. “Never speak ill of others behind their backs, Thomas.” She indicated their plates. “Finish eating, both of you, and then go into the parlor.”

  “Will you read to us tonight before you tuck us in?” Beth asked.

  “Don’t I always? But be sure all your clothes are put away, and remember to wash behind your ears.”

  Presently the children scampered off. Chancy finished eating and excused himself. That left Lin. He had been done for some time, but he did not want to leave, so he nursed a cup of coffee.

  Etta June’s face was drawn. “I tried but I am afraid I did not do any good. Pat will be disappointed.”

  “There is no talking to a block of wood,” Lin said.

  “So much is at stake. Do you really think he will do it? Unleash his curly wolves, and the consequences be hanged?”

  “I gave up predicting what people will do long ago,” Lin said. His mother was the reason. He had always thought of her as strong willed and levelheaded. But after their father’s untimely death, after his wagon overturned and crushed him, she proceeded to drink herself to death. It took her five years.

  Lin had begged his mother to stop. Tears in his eyes, he had pleaded with her to give up the bottle. But she never got over her loss. She did not want to live without the man she loved, and since she regarded suicide as a sin, she killed herself the slow way rather than putting a bullet in her brain.

  Lin suddenly became aware that Etta June was addressing him.

  “—if he goes through with it. The Dixons and Aven Magill do not stand a prayer against him. Neither do we, if it comes to that.”

  “I will stand by you no matter what,” Lin pledged.

  Etta June reached across and placed her hand on his. “I appreciate that. But I cannot ask you to endanger your life at my expense. We hardly know each other.”

  Lin gazed into her eyes—into those incredibly lovely hazel eyes—and felt an urge to kiss her. He smothered the impulse.

  “If a range war does break out, I will not hold it against you and your brother if you pack up and head for more peaceable pastures,” Etta June informed him.

  “I could never look at myself in the mirror again if I did.” Lin was surprised she had not removed her hand. He liked it there—liked it there a lot.

  “You might think differently once lead starts to fly. And don’t you worry about me. Whatever else Seth might do, he will not harm women. It is just not done.”

  “He might not pull the trigger, but he could give the order,” Lin said. “Paid assassins are not particular about who they are paid to kill.”

  Etta June rose and came around the table. Averting her eyes, she said softly, “May I tell you something?”

  “Sure.” Lin assumed it had to do with Montfort.

  “I like you.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “I am sorry to be so forward, but I find it easy to talk to you and be around you. I have not felt this way since my husband died.”

  “Oh.” Lin broke out in a sweat.

  “Please feel free to come to me at any time with any concerns you have,” Etta June told him. “I will go out with you tomorrow when you start the roundup, but I can’t stay the whole day.”

  Lin was about to suggest that she did not need to go along but held his tongue. He enjoyed her company as much as, if not more than, she liked his. “Would six be too early?”

  “Make it seven. That way you and your brother can have breakfast with us.” Etta June smiled. “I must say, your coming to work for me is the best thing that has happened in a long time. You are a godsend.”

  Lin was glad she felt that way. But as she walked him to the door, unease gnawed at him like termites gnawing at wood. She did not know the truth about him. It might well be that instead of being a godsend, he would bring the wrath of hell down on her head.

  Chapter 10

  Abe Tucker was doing inventory when three strangers came into his store. He glanced up from the tins of salted meat and fish he was counting.

  All three wore dusty slickers and broad-brimmed hats. They came toward the counter. The man in the lead was big and broad and notable for twin Remingtons in black leather holsters adorned with silver eagles, high on his hips. His slicker was pushed back so he could draw them quickly if need be.

  The second man was almost as tall but as thin as a broomstick. He carried a Sharps buffalo rifle in the crook of his left elbow.

  The third man stayed near the door. His salt-and-pepper beard marked him as the oldest. A bulge in his cheek hinted that he was fond of chewing tobacco.

  “How do you do, gentlemen,” Abe said. “Welcome to Mason.”

  “Is that what they call this pimple?” the big man rumbled in his barrel chest.

  “Let me guess,” Abe said. “You three have hired on with the Bar M. I can give you directions on how to get there.”

  “Never heard of it.” The big man placed his hands on the counter, close to his revolvers.

  “Ah. Just passing through, then, and you need to buy some supplies,” Abe surmised.

  “I am Lute Bass,” the man said, as if that should mean something.

  “Abe Tucker, at your service.”

  “We are hunting the Bryce brothers.”

  “I can’t say as the name is familiar,” Abe said, “and I know most everyone in these parts.”

  Lute Bass’ eyes were almost black. “They might be using a different handle. The oldest is almost as big as me. He has corn-silk hair and rides a palomino. The younger has hair as black as ink. He owns a zebra dun.”

  “I never pay much attention to horses,” Abe said. “What would their first names be?”

  “Lin and Chancy.”

  Abe looked down at his shoes, then at the shelf of salted m
eats and fish and finally back at Lute Bass. “You say you are hunting them. Are you the law?”

  “Do you see tin stars on us?” Lute Bass responded. “We hire out to those who can afford us to do what the law can’t.”

  Abe regarded the broomstick with the buffalo gun and then the older man chewing the wad. “Hired killers, I take it?”

  “You say that as if it were a disease,” Lute Bass said.

  “I do not approve of killing people for money. Do not take it personal. I happen to believe in that book at the end of the counter, and it has something in it about ‘thou shalt not kill.’”

  Lute Bass glanced at the Bible. “It also has something in it about an eye for an eye and a tooth for tooth.”

  “You are choosy about your scripture,” Abe said.

  “And you aren’t?” Lute Bass lowered his big hands. “We are staying the night. If you should recollect the pair I mentioned, look us up. If your information leads us to them, it is worth money to you.”

  “Mind if I ask what they did that you intend to buck them out in gore?”

  “They shot a man,” Lute Bass said. “It was him who hired us.”

  “He must hold grudges.”

  “You would too if you were crippled for life,” Lute Bass replied. “His name is Pettigrew. He is a banker in Cheyenne. His bank had to foreclose on the Bryce ranch.”

  “Know any more of the particulars?” Abe asked.

  “It seems their pa died some years back and left them in debt,” Lute Bass related. “They got behind on their bank payments. Pettigrew rode out to tell them they had thirty days to pack up and clear out. He expected trouble so he took three men with him.”

  “Why expected?”

  “The younger brother is a hothead. Pettigrew tried to reason with them. He explained he was only doing his job. But one thing led to another and the younger one shot him in the arm. Broke his elbow and tore the nerves so he can never use it again.”

  “Oh, my,” Abe said.

  “That is not all. The men Pettigrew brought to protect him went for their hardware, but the older brother drew and shot all three before they could clear leather. Two of them died.”