Ralph Compton Ride the Hard Trail

by Ralph Compton

  The continued silence compounded Lin’s unease. Something was wrong. Holding the blanket tight about his waist, he attempted to stand. He was almost erect when a wave of dizziness washed over him. His legs became mush, and he had to sit.

  “Pat? Sue?” Lin tried again. “Can you hear me? Is either of you there?”

  This was a fine note, Lin bitterly reflected. Here he was, as naked as on the day he came into the world, with neither a rifle nor a pistol, his body weak and battered, and the women might be in trouble. He pushed to his feet and took a step, and regretted it when the dizziness returned.

  Sinking back onto the bed, Lin simmered with frustration. He decided to try one more time. Taking a deep breath, he bellowed as loud as he could, “Mrs. Dixon! Where are you?”

  Spurs jangled in the hallway.

  The next moment, the doorway was filled by the last person Lin expected. The smug sneer and the two Merwin and Hulbert revolvers tied low sparked vivid memories of being hit again and again and again. “You!” he blurted.

  Lassiter grinned and placed his hands on his revolvers. “Are you as happy to see me as I am to see you?”

  Chapter 19

  Seth Montfort was dining on grouse roasted to perfection, vegetables so soft they melted in his mouth and freshly baked bread smeared thick with butter, the way he liked it.

  Seth loved food. He had loved it since he was knee-high to a foal. He loved food almost as much as he loved running a ranch, and he loved running a ranch more than anything. It was akin to being a general in an army. He gave orders, and people did his bidding. He liked that sort of power. He liked power, period.

  Seth liked cows too, but only as a means to an end. Bigger herds meant larger profits, and larger profits made him almost as happy as running a ranch and eating food.

  People liked to joke that Seth probably had the first dollars he ever made, and they were right. He hoarded his money. He was a miser and proud to be one. To his credit, when he had to spend his money, he spent it on the best it could buy.

  Seth’s ambition was to be as rich as John Jacob Astor and to own the largest ranch in northern Wyoming. If that meant gobbling up his nearest neighbors, so be it.

  Seth never had liked the Dixons. They were low-born Appalachians who lived hand to mouth and had no more vision than a tree stump. Aven Magill was little better: an old grump who would as soon shoot trespassers as order them off his property.

  Then there was Etta June Cather. From the moment Seth set eyes on her, he had been smitten. For a while he had wondered why, since she was not all that beautiful. Her breeding could not begin to compare to the social circles in which he had moved before he left Connecticut for the West. She was, in short, ordinary. But he still wanted her. And her land. Especially the land. The EJ had better graze and more water than either the Dixons’s spread or Magill’s.

  Seth wanted it, and he would have it.

  Seth fantasized about owning that land, and about Etta June. His fantasies involving her always brought a smile. They were the kind men did not repeat aloud. They always started with her wearing clothes and ended with her not having a stitch on.

  Thinking of her now, Seth forked a piece of roast grouse into his mouth and smiled as he chewed.

  “You sure are a happy cuss these days.”

  “Seth’s smile became a frown, and he stared down the long table at Isaac Stone. It was his custom, from time to time, to invite underlings to share a meal. Tonight he had invited Stone and one other.

  Seth had a second reason for inviting him. He had put Stone in charge of the leather slappers he hired, and he deemed it prudent to keep a close watch over them. “What was that?”

  Stone forked a piece of grouse into his mouth, but he did so with his fork turned the wrong way, then chomped with his mouth open. “You seem happier since you gave the Dixons their warning. I reckon once you have the Big Horns all to yourself, you will go around with all your teeth showing all the time.”

  “An overstatement,” Seth said, “but you are quite observant.”

  “I have to be,” Stone responded. “Men who make their living like I do don’t last long if they aren’t.”

  “I always thought that killing was a simple matter of squeezing a trigger,” Seth said.

  It was Stone’s turn to frown. “Not everyone can squeeze that trigger. Some can’t snuff out another life if their own depended on it.”

  “How is it you wound up in the profession you are in?” Seth idly inquired. Not that he cared, but he was always curious about why people did what they did. To understand someone was to have power over them.

  “You could say I sort of fell into it, just like most folks fall into whatever they do.”

  Seth set down his fork. “Can you be more specific?”

  “It is personal,” Stone said testily.

  “I do not mean to pry. If it is something you would rather not talk about, I respect your wishes.”

  Stone stared down the table. “I will say this for you, Montfort. You are a puffed-up rooster, but you always treat us fair. I respect that.”

  Seth did not know whether to be insulted or flattered. “I am not barnyard fowl. But yes, I make it a point to be honest with those who work for me, in whatever capacity.”

  “Since you brought that up,” Stone said, “some of your punchers resent me and my curly wolves being here.”

  “That is to be expected, is it not? Cowhands have little love for assassins.” Seth paused. “And they are my curly wolves, Mr. Stone—not yours.”

  “don’t get prickly,” Stone said.

  “You are a fine one to talk. All I did was ask how you got started in your trade.”

  Stone shrugged. “How does anyone start? I threw lead. My pa and a neighbor were squabbling over water rights. In some parts of Texas, water is more valuable than gold. Without it, a small spread like ours would have turned to dust.” Stone stabbed a piece of potato but did not raise it to his mouth. “Our neighbor had four boys. They took over the water hole and would not let my pa anywhere near it. When Pa objected, they shot him. He didn’t die, but he was in bed for a month.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What in hell do you think I did? I killed every last one of the sons of bitches. The neighbor, his sons, the mother, the daughter.”

  “You murdered their women too?”

  “It would not do to have anyone run to the law,” Stone said.

  Seth Montfort smiled. “I was right in picking you over the rest. You comprehend the intricacies involved.”

  Stone snorted. “I am not sure what you just said, but if it was what I think it was, I savvy what you are up to, yes.”

  Seth looked at his other guest. “How about you, Mr. Griggs? You are unusually quiet this evening. Do you savvy what I am up to?”

  Griggs was about to sip coffee. “You want to rid yourself of the other ranchers. Any jackass could figure that out.”

  “There is one I would rather not rub out if I do not need to,” Seth said. “Or haven’t I made it clear she is to be spared unless I say otherwise?”

  “There is not a gent on this spread who does not know,” Griggs assured him.

  Seth placed his hand on the table and slowly drummed his fingers. “I also thought I made it clear that the job I gave you was crucial. Under no circumstances were you to be caught.”

  “Hey, now.” Griggs set down his cup so hard that coffee spilled over the rim. “I did exactly as you told me to do. I never showed myself except late at night, and then only to make sure he was not in her bed.”

  “Yet you were caught.”

  “He was waiting for me. Somehow he knew.”

  “The somehow is not hard to figure out. You were careless. I expected better.”

  “I did my best,” Griggs said sullenly.

  “Is that what you call it?” Seth fingered his butter knife. “And after Lin Gray caught you, what happened?”

  “I have already told you.”

 
“Tell me again,” Seth said.

  Griggs glanced at Stone, who ignored him. “He asked me what I was doing there. I told him my horse had run off and I was hoping to borrow one to get back to the Bar M.”

  “And he believed you?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Griggs retorted.

  Stone pushed his chair back and lowered an arm to his side. He snickered as if something were funny, then looked at Griggs and said, “You have brought this on yourself.”

  “Brought what?”

  Stone glanced at Seth. “You pay me extra to keep your pistoleros in line, so I reckon I owe you the truth. Griggs here is lying to you. There is more to his story.”

  “The hell you say!” Griggs exploded, and shoved his chair back. “I will not be accused without cause.”

  “I have cause,” Stone said. “I overheard you talking to Lassiter out behind the stable. You asked him if you could borrow his spare revolver since Lin Gray took yours.”

  Griggs rose out of his chair. “You damned busy-body.” His hand hovered near the six-shooter Lassiter had lent him.

  Seth Montfort smacked the table. “Sit down, Mr. Griggs!” To Stone he said, “What else did you overhear?”

  “Just that Lin Gray, or whatever his real name is, made Griggs tell him the truth. That you sent Griggs to spy on the Cather woman.”

  “Damnation,” Seth said.

  Griggs had not sat back down. “You had no call to do that, Stone. Why make trouble for me?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Stone rejoined. “I work under Montfort, and you work under me. By lying to him, you throw dirt in my face.”

  Seth Montfort glared at Griggs. “So what Mr. Stone has told me is true? You told Lin Gray the truth. Do you have any idea of the trouble you have caused me?”

  “I had to tell him,” Griggs said. “He is snake mean, that one, when he wants to be.”

  “He is not the only one,” Stone said.

  Seth sighed. “I am disappointed in you, Mr. Griggs. Collect your belongings and go. You are fired.”

  “I will be glad to!” Griggs declared.

  “No,” Stone said.

  Both Seth and Griggs looked at him.

  “No?” Griggs repeated.

  “You lied to Montfort. You lied to me. Now you stand there ready to draw on me and you think you can just ride off?” Stone rose, his right hand close to his holster. “You have another think coming.”

  “Not in the house!” Seth said.

  “Here is as good as anywhere!” Griggs cried, and went to draw.

  Stone’s hand flashed. The dining room rocked to the boom of a shot, and Griggs was punched back by an invisible fist. He collided with his chair, and both crashed to the floor, a chair leg breaking with a snap. Griggs’s own legs thrashed, and his body broke into convulsions.

  Stone calmly stepped around the end of the table, stood over Griggs and thumbed back the hammer. “Any last words?”

  Griggs’s mouth moved, but all that came out was blood. Whining, he sought to draw.

  “Save me a bunk in hell,” Stone said, and squeezed the trigger.

  Shouts rose, both in the house and outside. Feet drummed as Seth Montfort came down the table and regarded a spreading scarlet ring. “I did not want shooting in here.”

  “He left me no choice.”

  “Assign men to bury him. You may keep his effects and his horse, or sell them and pocket the money.”

  Stone started to replace the spent cartridges. “I would have done that anyway, but thanks.”

  “I am grateful that you were honest with me,” Seth said. “But do not take too many liberties. And when Mr. Lassiter returns, I want a word with him over his.”

  “His what?”

  “The liberty he took. He should have told me what Griggs told him and not kept it to himself.”

  “He told me,” Stone responded.

  “I just heard you say to Griggs that you overheard them talking out behind the stable.”

  “I lied.” Stone fished a cartridge from his cartridge belt and slid it into the cylinder. “Lassiter asked me not to let on that he told me, and I gave my word I wouldn’t.”

  “I see. So you lied to Griggs to keep your word to Lassiter. I must say, your morals are as fluid as water.”

  Stone twirled the revolver into his holster. “There you go again. Talk so I can understand you.”

  “We are remarkably alike,” Seth said. “We do what we have to and don’t give a tinker’s damn about the consequences.”

  “Do you still aim to talk to Lassiter?”

  “I certainly do,” Seth replied. “It was remiss of him not to report to me. I do not expect loyalty, Mr. Stone; I demand it. If he is no more loyal than that, I am better off without his services.”

  “Don’t be hasty,” Stone advised. “Next to me, Lassiter is the best short-trigger man you have. He’s a bloodthirsty cuss too. The only thing he likes more than spilling blood is forcing himself on a filly.”

  “Surely you do not mean to suggest he is partial to rape?”

  Stone laughed. “Surely I do. He can’t keep his hands off them. In Texas he was run out of three towns for taking liberties, as you would call it.”

  “Thank you for informing me. I will make it a point not to let him anywhere near Etta June from now on.”

  “Oh, Lassiter would never touch Mrs. Cather. He knows she has your brand on her. But every other female in these parts had better watch out if Lassiter gets them alone.”

  “He can’t control himself. Is that it?”

  “Let me put it this way. Single or married, it makes no difference to Lassiter. To him all women are ripe fruit, and he can’t wait to take a bite out of them. But the worst part is what he does after he is done with them.”

  “After?”

  “You do not want to know,” Stone said.

  Chapter 20

  Lin Bryce was dumbfounded. He had sensed something was wrong, but he never expected this.

  Lassiter came toward the bed, stopping just out of reach. “So, this is where you got to.”

  “How—?” Lin blurted.

  “You are wondering what I am doing here?” Lassiter uttered a cold laugh. “It’s simple. After we beat you and threw you over your horse and sent you on your way, Montfort got to thinking. He figured it would upset his precious Etta Sue if you were to show up at her ranch more dead than alive. So he sent me and some others to catch up to you and finish what we started.”

  Lin’s blood was racing and he had broken out in a sweat. He struggled to regain his self-control, saying, “It took you this long to find me?”

  “Hell, I didn’t even know you were here. A thunderstorm wiped out your trail,” Lassiter said. “We came for another reason.”

  “What have you done with Pat and Sue Dixon?”

  “The others are keeping them in the kitchen,” Lassiter replied. “With the husband and sons gone, I can take my time.”

  Lin did not like the sound of that. “This is Montfort’s idea? Barging in here and mistreating them?”

  “No, it is not,” Lassiter said. “It is my notion. I have been a long time without a female.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Lin gasped.

  “Why not? They are handy.”

  “Seth Montfort wouldn’t like it.” Lin grasped at a straw.

  “Who is to tell him? You? Hell, you look fit to keel over if you get out of that bed.”

  “Leave them be,” Lin said. “They have never done you any harm.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Lassiter retorted. He turned to go. “I could shoot you, but that would be too easy. Lie there and worry about what I am going to do to you while I go have fun with the females.”

  Lin struggled to sit up. “Damn it! don’t!” he exploded. His arms shook so violently, he nearly pitched onto his face.

  All Lassiter did was laugh.

  “No!” Lin cried, but the killer was gone. Panic swelling, he glanced around the bedroom.
He needed his saddlebags—needed what was in them. But he had neglected to ask the Dixons where they were. Over in a corner was a closet. Maybe there, he told himself, and balanced on the edge of the bed.

  Dizziness struck again. Lin swore; the women needed his help! Desperate, he placed one foot on the floor, and then the other. Now came the test. With a quick shove, he made it to his feet but swayed like a reed in high wind. He took a shambling step. Then another. He smiled, telling himself he could do it. But no sooner did he think he could than his legs gave out and he fell hard onto his chest and shoulder.

  Lin got his hands under him and crabbed forward. Pain rippled through him in waves, each as strong as the last.

  Somewhere a woman screamed.

  Stark fear filled Lin. Not for himself, but for the two sweet souls who had treated him so kindly. He moved faster, but his best was still painstakingly slow.

  A bark of laughter froze Lin in place.

  Just outside the room stood another of Montfort’s assassins, a scruffy killer with a Starr revolver cross-wise on his hip. “Here he is, Reb. Pretending to be a snake.”

  The man entered, followed by the one called Reb, a lean rail in a worn gray coat, carrying a Loomis short-barreled shotgun. Belted about his waist were a Le Mat and a long knife.

  “I don’t like this, Harry,” Reb said in a thick Southern accent.

  “We are paid to kill. It is what we do.”

  Reb nodded at Lin. “I don’t mind doin’ him. It’s the other. Lassiter ought not to molest the women. It ain’t right.”

  “Since when did you give a damn about right and wrong? You have been on the wrong side of the law since after the war.”

  To Lin’s amazement, Reb offered the same objection he had. “Seth Montfort won’t like it none—us actin’ on our own.”

  “Could be he will,” Harry disagreed. “Could be it will make Cody Dixon so mad, him and his sons will ride to the Bar M to kill Montfort and we can get rid of them as easy as can be.”

  “I don’t cotton to abusin’ women,” Reb persisted.

  “Go tell that to Lassiter if you are so fired up,” Harry said. “But I get that nine-shot smoke wagon of yours after he bucks you out in gore.”