by Matt Rand
“Green sent word yestiddy for me to come along. As a shot in the dark I’d say he’s mebbe located the rustlers.”
“Rustlers?” Raven repeated. “Who’s been losin’ steers?”
“The Double S—so Reub was sayin’,” Andy told him.
Raven rode in silence, his face indifferent, but inwardly he was damning the marshal for an interfering hound. As their course took them farther away from the 88 ranch his suspicions evaporated.
The marshal and his deputy covered the first few miles in silence, and then Pete’s patience was at an end. “Why don’t you chatter some?” he burst out.
“We’re goin’ to catch a cow thief or two,” Green replied, and told of a discovery he had made on the night they returned from the Border.
“What’ll friend Raven say when he sees his men workin’ over the Double S brand?” Pete queried.
“I’m a heap more interested in what they’re goin’ to say,” the other smiled. “He’s gotta turn ’em down—cold.”
The little man slapped his knee in delight. “Somebody’ll have to do some tall lyin’,” he said. “Hope they ain’t takin’ a day off.”
He was not to be disappointed, for when—less than two hours later—they reached the hidden corral the marshal had happened upon before, the bawl of enraged steer greeted them, and as they noiselessly threaded the surrounding trees, a tiny spiral of smoke afforded further proof that branding was going on. From the cover of the brush rimming the basin the visitors watched Jevons and Leeson throw and tie a cow, and then the former took a running iron from the fire and bent over the prostrate beast. The pungent smell of burning hair and hide assailed their nostrils. The marshal, watching the half-breed, saw his face pale and then flush.
“Damnation, Jevons, what’s the meanin’ o’ this?” he shouted, and spurred his horse down the slope.
Like a flash the two men turned to face him, their hands going to their guns, but they fell away again when they saw the rest of the party and stood sullenly waiting. The foreman of the Double S rode forward and looked at the hog-tied steer. His expression was not pretty.
“Don’t need no explanation far as they’s concerned, I reckon,” he said, nodding grimly at the two rustlers. “Mebbe you got somethin to say, Raven?”
The boss of the 88 whirled upon him. “Why, damn yore eyes, Renton, you tryin’ to say I know anythin’ ’bout this?” he said.
“They’re yore men, an’ that’s yore brand ourn is bein’ changed to,” the Double S man returned doggedly.
The marshal interposed. “Take their guns,” he said; and when this was done, “You got anythin’ to say, Leeson?”
“I was obeyin’ orders—my foreman’s,” came the sulky reply.
“An’ were you obeyin’ orders too, Jevons?” the marshal asked.
The man did not reply; his narrowed eyes were fixedly studying Raven, and there was a threat in them. The saloonkeeper was doing some rapid thinking. The only explanation he could make would expose Reuben Sarel as a thief, himself as a receiver of stolen property, and put an end to his hope of gaining Tonia. Moreover, these cows had been taken without Sarel’s knowledge. With callous indifference, he decided that the men must be sacrificed.
“You want to ask these fellas anythin’, Raven?” Green said.
The half-breed shook his head. “No,” he replied. “When men workin’ for me put my brand on other folks’ cattle, I’m through. You can take ’em in, Marshal.”
“Take ’em in, hell,” Renton said roughly. “We got ’em with the goods, Raven, an’ they swing here an’ now; they’s plenty trees.”
Raven’s shifty glance turned to Green. “You can’t allow that, Marshal,” he urged. “These men are entitled to a trial, anyways.”
Green detected the design. The accused men were keeping quiet because they relied upon Raven to get them out of the trouble. Taken to Lawless they would be assisted to escape from the flimsy jail, or acquitted by a packed jury. He was determined to force the issue.
“The case is open an’ shut, Raven,” he said sternly. “There ain’t no doubt whatever. Allasame, I’ll put it to the vote; there’s five of you—me an’ Pete, bein’ officers, don’t take a hand.”
The voting was a mere farce, as the marshal knew it would be—all except the saloon-keeper being in favor of the culprits being hanged forthwith. Green directed Pete and Renton to tie the hands of the rustlers behind their backs, a proceeding which brought a look of fear into Leeson’s eyes, and loosened Jevons’ tongue. Convinced that his employer was prepared to let him go to his death he was anxious only to bite back.
“Raven,” he called sharply, “you standin’ for this?”
The saloon-keeper’s face was wooden. “I’ve done all I can,” he said. “You knew the penalty when you started stealin’ beef.”
“Good enough,” the foreman snarled, and turned his mean eyes on the marshal. “You asked just now if I was doin’ this under orders? Well, I was—orders from my boss, that low-down sneak standin’ there, an’ I can tell you somethin’ else about him too—”
“You lyin’, double-crossin’ cattle thief!”
With the hissed words the half-breed’s right hand darted to Andy’s belt, there was a roar and a flash, and Jevons rocked on his feet, sagged at the knees, and dropped in a twisted heap. The slayer, his face poisonously puffed by the passion that possessed him, bent forward, gun still poised, glaring at the man whose lips he had closed forever. A moment of awed silence followed, and then Renton spoke angrily. “You hadn’t oughta done that, Raven. Looks like you was scared o’ what he was goin’ to say.”
The saloon-keeper snapped round. “Who the hell are you givin’ orders to?” he shouted. “I’ll do as I please, an’ I don’t ask permission of any damned cow-wrastler. For a busted nickel—”
“Hand that gun back, pronto,” the marshal cut in, and there was something in the ice-cold, level tones which brought the killer out of his frenzy. He gave Andy the weapon, and when he faced the marshal again all outward traces of his fury had disappeared.
“Sorry, boys,” he apologized. “But I done a lot for that fella”—he pointed a thumb at the dead man—“an’ to find him stealin’ cattle from my friends an’ tryin’ to drag me into the dirty deal shore got me goin’. I’m admittin’ I was wrong—oughta let him spit out his lies, I s’pose, but I lost my wool.”
The explanation deceived no one, but had to be accepted. The marshal soon made his arrangements. Renton and his two men were to take their cattle away and the others would return to town.
“What about that coyote?” asked the Double S foreman, with a nod at Leeson.
“He goes with me,” Green decided.
“As well for him,” the cowman said grimly, and then, “I’m combin’ yore ranch, Raven; I ain’t satisfied this bunch is all you’ve had.”
The owner of the 88 shot an ugly look at him. “If you can find any more, take ’em,” he said evenly. “I’ve already said I knowed nothin’ o’ the stealin’; I left the runnin’ o’ the ranch entirely to my foreman.”
* * * *
Late that evening the marshal and his deputy were in the Red Ace when the proprietor came up and greeted them with dry geniality.
“Well, Green, you got any fresh information outa that cur Leeson?” he asked.
“No, he’s a clam, that fella,” Green replied. “Mebbe he’ll open up when the noose is round his neck.”
“A rope’s a real persuader,” the other agreed. “Hope you have him safe; he’s got friends in town.”
“He’s tied, an’ I got all the keys in my pocket,” the marshal told him.
“Oughta be good enough,” Raven returned, and passed on. Green’s glance followed him speculatively. “Pete, I’m bettin’ we’ve lost our prisoner,” he murmured. “He was laughin’ at us.”
And so it proved. When they reached their quarters it was to find every door locked as they had left it, but the occupant of the cell had vanished.
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br /> “Duplicate keys, an’ o’ course he’d have ’em,” the marshal ruefully decided. “Oughta guessed that, Pete; my head must be solid bone, right through. He’s a clever devil. Gets shut of a man who might yap an’ puts me in wrong with the town, damn him.”
CHAPTER XX
The news of the rustling—which could not be concealed for long—with the death of Jevons and the subsequent escape of his companion in the crime, soon faded out in favor of a bigger sensation. The marshal was the first to hear of this, and from the man who produced it. Two days after the disappearance of Leeson he met the half-breed emerging from the bank.
“You know, o’ course, Marshal, that the bank is cleaned complete—there won’t be a peso for anybody?” he began. “It comes mighty near bein’ a knockout blow for the town; a good few citizens have lost all their savin’s an’ some o’ the traders’ll find it hard to carry on. Ain’t that so?”
“Shore is.”
“Well, I got a big interest in Lawless an’ I aim to have a bigger one, so it don’t suit me that the better class o’ citizen—the savin’, workin’ kind—should go broke. Likewise, there’s another thing: when Potter first come here he hadn’t much capital. I took a shine to the fella, an’ reckonin’ a bank was wanted, I backed him. It was his layout, you understand—I didn’t have no share, but I lent him money. Oh, I got it back—he’s a square shooter, is Potter—an’ all I stand to lose is what I had there when the robbery took place. But I feel sorta responsible, you savvy?”
He nodded, wondering where all this was leading to. “That bein’ so, I’m goin’ to take over the bank, makin’ good the losses outa my own pocket. If Potter gets well, I’ll hand his business back to him in good shape, an’ he can repay me when he’s able; if he don’t recover, I go on runnin’ it. What you think o’ the idea?”
If the saloon-keeper had hoped to surprise the marshal he certainly succeeded; for a moment Green stared at him in frank amazement; somehow, the picture of Seth Raven as a philanthropist would not materialize.
“It’s certainly a plenty generous proposition,” he said at last. “It shore oughta make you popular.” There was a sardonic touch in those words. “Reckon it’ll be good news for Andy Bordene.”
“Whatever the books show that the bank owes will be met. I’ve got Potter’s clerk goin’ through ’em now. It’ll cost a goodish bit, an’ there’ll be some who’ll say I’m only lendin’ the money an’ it’ll all come back via the Red Ace.” He looked meaningly at the marshal. “It won’t be the first time I’ve been misunderstood.”
“Most of us has that experience, I reckon,” Green said. “Odd about Leeson slippin’ off thataway.”
‘“I warned you ’bout his friends,” Raven reminded.
“You didn’t say they had keys to the jail,” Green retorted.
“Keys wouldn’t ’a’ helped ’em if you’d been watchin’ yore man,” the other said tersely. “An’ since you’ve brought the subject up, I oughta tell you the idea’s gettin’ round that mebbe yo’re a mite lax. Speakin’ personal, I ain’t honin’ for Mister Sudden to pay the bank a second visit presently.”
The marshal affected a humility he was by no means suffering from. “I sabe that, o’ course,” he said; “but what’s a fella to do? I’ve combed the country an’ there don’t seem to be a smidgin’ o’ sign to show where he’s holin’ up. How much did he get from the bank?”
“S’posin’ he had Bordene’s, it would be around sixty thousand dollars,” Raven replied.
“Which with what he pulled in afore makes a sizable stake,” the marshal ruminated. “No, sir, he’ll figure he’s skinned this burg pretty thorough an’ is searchin’ out another stampin’ ground right now, I betcha.”
When the marshal returned to his office he found Bordene smoking and chatting with Barsay. The latter, quick to note the storm signals in his friend’s face, promptly asked a question. “What you got yore ears set back for? The Vulture been tryin’ to bulldoze you?”
The marshal grinned widely. “That’s no way to speak to yore boss, an’ it shows a want o’ proper respect for the town’s biggest benefactor,” he replied.
“How long has Raven been a benefactor?” Andy asked. The marshal told them of the saloon-keeper’s intentions and the eyes of both men bulged.
“If he does that I’ll have to alter some o’ my ideas about Seth,” Andy commented, a visible relief in his tone. “Durned if I can see why he’s doin’ it though.”
“It’s plain enough,” the marshal pointed out. “Makes him solid with the town; nobody’s goin’ to accuse him o’ bein’ in on that rustlin’ after this. Don’t you be glad too soon, Andy; I’ve a hunch there’s a string tied to it far as yo’re concerned.”
The prediction proved correct. Entering the Red Ace that evening, Andy found the place packed. The news of the saloon-keeper’s intended generosity had spread through Lawless like wildfire, and not only those directly affected, but nearly every other dweller, wanted to see the man who was about to give away thousands of dollars.
“This is mighty fine thing yo’re, doin’, Seth,” Bordene began. “I gotta thank you.”
“What for?” asked the half-breed, with unsmiling lips, though his joy was hard to hide; this was the moment he had been lusting for.
The cold query took the young man aback. “Why, I understand yo’re re-openin’ the bank an’ givin’ every customer the balance held when the robbery took place,” he replied.
“That’s correct,” Raven said. “I’ve got a fist o’ the losses; yore account don’t show no balance.”
“But I gave Potter thirty thousand just before I went after Moraga,” Andy protested. “You were there.”
“I heard you say somethin’ about it, an’ that’s all,” Raven retorted. There’s no record in the books, an’ the clerk knows nothin’ of it.”
“He warn’t present,” Andy said. “I was in such a tear that I just gave Potter the notes an’ didn’t wait for a receipt or anythin’. Damn it all, Seth, you don’t think I’d lie to you?”
The half-breed shrugged his shoulders. “A man who’s broke’ll do a deal for thirty thousand,” he said insolently, and when he saw the rancher’s jaw tighten, he added, “Mebbe Potter took a chance on yore not comin’ back. All I know is the bank ain’t liable. Another thing, this business is goin’ to cost me a lot, an’ I want that mortgage on the Box B redeemed pretty prompt.”
“Knowin’ damn well that I can’t do it,” the rancher said angrily.
“I dunno nothin’ about yore affairs, an’ I ain’t earin’,” the saloon-keeper replied.
It did not need the hard, merciless tone nor the sneering look to convince the cowman that any appeal would be useless. When he spoke again his voice was low, vibrant.
“You seem to hold the cards, but I reckon the deck was stacked. Whatever you want belongin’ to me you’ll have to fight for, Raven.”
“I’ll make you pay to the last cent,” he muttered. “I’ll take yore ranch, yore girl, an’ break yore damned heart.”
Renton’s return to the Double S with the stolen steers and his story of what happened produced an extraordinary revolution in the mind of Reuben Sarel. Shame at the thought that he had allowed himself to be used by such a man as Raven overrode every other consideration.
“The dirty dawg oughta be strung up,” he grated, and the foreman was amazed at the savage tone of his usually mild and easy-going manager.
“Meanin’ Jevons?” he asked.
“Meanin’ his thievin’ boss, who killed him to close his mouth,” retorted Sarel.
“Which is my sentiments to a dot,” the foreman agreed.
Reuben nodded gloomily and Renton left him pacing up and down the veranda. He noticed that Tonia was watching him with a mischievous smile. Reuben dropped wearily into a seat. “I got somethin’ serious to tell you.” There was an awkward pause and then he blurted out, “I’ve been double-crossin’ you, Tonia. No, don’t say nothin’—just list
en.”
Head down, drooping in his chair, he told the whole sordid story. How he had got deeper and deeper in debt, and realizing the hopelessness, of ever being able to pay, had yielded to his creditor’s crafty offer to take Double S cattle.
“I was allus meanin’ to pay you back, lass, but the cussed luck wouldn’t change, an’ I on’y got mired worse’n before,” he pleaded. “An’ with that devil threatenin’ to tell you…”
His voice trailed away miserably and he could not look at her. Tonia rose and put an arm round his neck.
“You dear old silly, as if I care a hoot about the stupid cows,” she soothed. “Why didn’t you tell me and save yourself all these months of worry? You’ve been very good to me,” she said, “and you’re not to think anything different. As for Mister Raven—” she stopped suddenly and her cheeks grew rosy. “Andy’s coming, and he looks as though he’d been washed and hung out to dry.”
The simile was not inapt, for Bordene sat draped over his saddle, chin on chest. At the ranch-house he got down listlessly, threw the reins, and stepped heavily forward. He appeared a tired and dispirited man, but at the sight of the girl he forced a smile to his drawn lips.
“Howdy, folks,” he greeted. “Tonia, you look as bright as a new dollar, an’ Reub don’t appear to be missin’ meals.”
His attempted gaiety did not deceive the girl. “What’s the matter, Andy?” she asked quietly.
The boy smiled bitterly. He went on to tell of Fate’s final blow to his hopes. They had heard of the robbery but had not known that Andy was deeply affected. Raven’s bid for popularity was news, and they stared open-eyed at Bordene when he related his conversation with the saloonkeeper. “I paid the money to Potter, an’ what he did with it the Lord only knows,” he said in conclusion.
Tonia nodded understandingly, and her look was a caress. “It was because I was in danger, Andy, wasn’t it?” she said. “Since Raven holds your mortgage, it would naturally be inconvenient to hand you the money to redeem it, and he couldn’t play favorites, so I am not surprised there is no record in the bank books.”