Vigilante Law

by Dale Graham

  Months had passed with the threat hanging over him, until the dreaded day finally arrived. The night before the execution, Ben had been fastened to a post in the yard behind the comisaria – a warning to all the other prisoners as to the result of insurrection against the state. And there he was left to contemplate his fate on the morrow. What they had failed to do was post a guard. Neither had the authorities reckoned with the esteem in which Blue Creek was held by the downtrodden masses.

  Waiting for the moon to slip behind a belt of cloud, shadowy figures then scrambled silently over the enclosing walls. Within minutes the prisoner had been released and spirited away. The grateful rescuers had given him food and weapons. Even his revered horse was saddled and ready for a swift flight across the border.

  The unsettling recollection had taken but a moment to flit through Ben’s mind. But Lafferty was quick to perceive the disturbed aspect troubling his saviour. It was clear that bad blood existed between him and Steiger’s recently hired gunnie. ‘That skunk must have hurt you something bad,’ the homesteader observed. ‘Ain’t that reason enough for you to accept my proposition?’

  The assertion swung Ben’s thoughts back to the current situation into which he had lumbered unwittingly. Disclosure of the renegade’s presence in the Nueces Valley had certainly piqued his interest. More than that, it was a firm decider. If Squint Rizzo was involved in this conflict, then what sort of craven milksop would Ben Chisum be to walk away? He held out a hand. ‘Guess you’ve gotten yourself a deal, Chico.’

  A couple of prairie dogs yipped and scampered about in gleeful accord with the decision. ‘Lookee there, amigo!’ Lafferty pointed to the cavorting duo. ‘Even the local wildlife reckons you’re the hombre to shackle these malos and send them packing.’

  His excitement soon simmered down as a pragmatic mind reasserted itself. ‘First off, though, you’re gonna need help. Go visit with Amos Durham,’ Lafferty declared. ‘He runs a small spread near Maverick to the south of here. Amos is good with figures and keeps my books up to date. He can show you that the Jaybird is a going concern. I’d trust that guy with my life. So listen up good to what he has to tell you about running the place.’

  Lafferty then extracted a scrap of paper and a stubby pencil from his saddle-bag. A brief letter was composed, explaining his proposition. Both men signed it. ‘There’s a guy in Del Rio who can draw up a binding contract. Then make sure you lodge it in the bank vault at Uvalde. Emile Santo is a cousin of mine. He’s the only man in the territory I’d trust to hold such an important document safely. That’ll give Steiger something to brood on.’ Lafferty then mounted up. He extended a hand for Ben to join him.

  ‘Won’t you be helping out?’ Ben asked as he climbed up behind his new partner. ‘I’m a bit green when it comes to sodbusting.’

  ‘I’m going into hiding until this business is over.’ Lafferty’s voice registered fear as he continued. ‘Getting your neck stretched and staring the grim reaper in the eye ain’t good for the corazon.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Don’t mind admitting it’s shaken me down to the core. Durham can offer you all the help you need.’

  ‘So where you figuring to go?’ Ben posed the question as the lone horse with its double passenger load trotted away from the grim scene of the recent hanging. Ben’s eyes scanned the rolling terrain constantly for signs of the perpetrators as he awaited the answer.

  ‘If by any chance you need to communicate with me in a hurry, I have a cousin near Del Rio who’ll take me in until it’s safe to come out of hiding.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Blue Creek Bite

  They reached the town of Del Rio the following day. A brisk handshake sealed the agreement and the two unlikely associates parted company. ‘Good luck to you, Blue Creek. Not that I have any doubts a hombre of your standing will send that rat crawling back into the hole he came out of. But remember what I said about taking advice from Amos Durham.’

  After presenting the signed instruction to a lawyer, the official business was soon concluded. Anxious not to be eyeballed now that he was in possession of a valuable document, the new partner in Jaybird Holdings was anxious to leave Del Rio behind. Yet, once again, Ben found himself alone and on foot. As a result, his first priority was to hire a buggy and go pick up that prize saddle. Luckily, it was no more than an hour’s ride to the south.

  After returning the buggy and obtaining a fresh mount, he headed back to the Nueces Valley and the town of Maverick. As suggested by his new partner, the main priority was to find Amos Durham. Sitting astride the sturdy chestnut mare, Ben was idling his way along the town’s main street, wondering how best to locate the mysterious homesteader. He kept his head down, hat pulled low over his eyes. For a guy in his profession, it always paid to be cautious. He’d made too many enemies to take life for granted.

  Maverick was a typical sleepy town characteristic of south Texas. Most of the buildings were of adobe construction. More recent erections were built in the American style with ornate false fronts. One structure that was notably missing, however, was a sheriff’s office. In its place was a sign that read Office of the Maverick Vigilance Committee. President: Web Steiger. Ben frowned. It appeared that vigilante law dispensed by Steiger was well established in the Nueces. He was right to be wary having entered the rattler’s lair. There was no telling who was friend or foe.

  Mexicans, with their distinctive apparel and wearing wide-brimmed sombreros, mingled with Stetson-clad cowboys and homesteaders. Having no idea who could be trusted, Ben considered it wise to treat them all with cagey suspicion.

  A couple of jaspers about to cross the street paused to eyeball the stranger in town. Nothing out of the ordinary there, but this newcomer was far from that. Ben Chisum possessed a natural bearing, a certain potent charisma that drew attention. Much as he tried to blend into the landscape, his rangy frame precluded any meaningful anonymity.

  He stopped in front of the watching pair. ‘I’m looking for a man by the name of Amos Durham. You know where I can find him?’

  The taller of the two, a shifty-eyed hard case going under the handle of Laredo pointed down the street absently. His cold regard gave nothing away, just like the deadpan reply. ‘You’ll likely find him taking a well-earned rest in his favourite spot on the outside of town.’

  ‘Just keep following your nose, mister,’ the other man added, unsuccessfully trying to conceal a derisory smirk. ‘He’ll be on the far side of the church. Poor old Amos ain’t much of a talker though.’ The two men guffawed in approval of the one-sided comment.

  ‘Much obliged,’ Ben replied rather uneasily, not deigning to question the somewhat cavalier remarks as he nudged the chestnut forward. They didn’t quite sit right, and left a funny taste in the mouth. He shrugged off the unsettling notion. Doubtless he would find out soon enough if those two idlers were just having fun at a newcomer’s expense.

  Quizzical looks laced with suspicion prodded the back of the disappearing gunslinger. ‘Got me a notion I’ve seen that critter someplace before,’ remarked Laredo, tugging at his lank crop of greasy black hair. ‘And I’m figuring him being here ain’t gonna be good news.’

  ‘You figure we ought to tell the boss?’ enquired Bug Pincher, scratching his sides. It was a reluctance to take a bath that found the stocky jigger being thus labelled. Not one to take offence, Pincher had accepted the handle readily, judging it to be a badge of esteem. Guys with nicknames harboured respect. In truth, the opposite was the case. But Ike Pincher was too thick-skinned, or stupid, to know the difference. ‘He said for us to report any strangers arriving in the valley. And that guy sure ain’t no drifting cowpoke. He could be here to cause trouble.’

  His buddy’s incidental observation had struck a cord in Laredo’s acute memory box. It was that tied-down gun rig that marked him down as a gunslinger. But there was one other more poignant accessory that had clinched the recall, namely the rattler tail in his hatband. ‘Geez, I heard that guy was down in Zaragoza helping
the revolutionaries. What in tarnation is he doing up here?’ A sheen of sweat had broken out on the tough’s face.

  Bug looked at him askance. He had never had the dubious pleasure of an introduction. ‘Who is he?’

  Laredo ignored the question while musing on this disquieting development. Ben Chisum here in the Nueces. ‘Now, what darned game are you playing, mister? You ain’t here on vacation, that’s for sure.’

  Pincher tugged at his pal’s arm, insistent that he be apprised of the mysterious newcomer’s identity. ‘Come on, Laredo,’ he pressed. ‘Who the hell is this turkey that’s gotten you in such a lather?’

  ‘That, old buddy, is Ben Chisum.’

  Pincher’s startled expression indicated his knowledge of the man and his reputation. ‘You sure about that?’ he shot back.

  ‘Ain’t I just,’ was the caustic rejoinder. ‘I was in Blue Creek, Colorado when he took down Wild Johnny Bullstrode. Just walked down the middle of the street, cool as you please, and slugged him with a hard left to the chin before frog-marching him over to the jailhouse. And not a shot fired. Nobody lifted a finger to stop him. It’s a new sport they call boxing.’ Respect, tinged with a handsome dollop of fear, was clearly evident in Laredo’s discourse. ‘Never seen anything the like before or since. That guy has got nerves of steel. And now he’s here in the Nueces.’

  He indicated for his associate to go get their horses. They needed to follow the guy and see what he wanted with Amos Durham.

  A quarter-mile beyond the church, Ben came across a group of mourners emerging from the cemetery. They walked towards him slowly. ‘I’m looking for a man called Amos Durham,’ he asked.

  ‘Well, you’re too late, mister,’ replied a stocky man, clad in a dark suit that had seen better days. ‘We just buried him.’

  A young woman stepped forward. She was wiping tears from her face. Even though Elsa Durham was dressed in sepulchral black, there was no denying an attractive female lay beneath. ‘What do you want with my father?’ she snapped at the newcomer. Her cold gaze rested on the low-slung gun rig. ‘If’n you’ve come to make sure the job was carried out properly, then you’re too late.’ The woman’s caustic retort made no effort to conceal her angry suspicion at this unwanted stranger’s presence. ‘It was a gunslinger who shot him dead on the veranda of his own house.’

  ‘Was his name by any chance Squint Rizzo?’ Ben enquired.

  Elsa stiffened. ‘He a friend of your’n? Another hired killer?’

  Ben quickly held up a conciliatory hand. ‘You got me all wrong, ma’am,’ he said in an effort to calm things down. The burgeoning storm cloud made her even more alluring than he had previously noticed. ‘Rizzo sure ain’t no buddy of mine. The exact opposite, if anything.’ The bitter riposte certainly caught the distressed girl’s attention. Not wishing to antagonize her, he immediately moderated his tone. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. But I’m here on the advice of Chico Lafferty. It was him that told me your father could acquaint me with the trouble brewing in these parts.’

  ‘That’s a darned lie,’ rasped an older man stepping up. Obediah Crawley was the local blacksmith in Uvalde and leader of the town council. Not that he had much power now that Steiger had taken over. ‘We have it on good authority the poor guy was hanged by Web Steiger and his bunch of killers.’

  Ben sighed. ‘And I suppose it was Steiger who told you.’ He didn’t wait for a confirmation. ‘Well, I’m here to set the record straight.’ He leaned over the neck of his horse. ‘Lafferty is still around, although he’s mighty shaken up. Getting your neck stretched is apt to do that to a man. So he’s gone into hiding until this shebang blows over.’

  ‘And how do you know all this?’ Crawley interjected tersely, still not convinced this stranger was on the level.

  Elsa stepped in front of him. ‘Was it you that rescued him?’ the chastened younger woman enquired, her previous stiff attitude visibly softening towards this enigmatic stranger.

  Ben nodded, shifting his gaze back to Elsa Durham. ‘And he’s put me in charge of his holding. It’s been officially certified and sealed by a lawyer in Del Rio. All I gotta do now is deliver it to the bank in Uvalde for safekeeping.’

  ‘You surely don’t believe this story, do you, Elsa?’ Crawley retorted. ‘It’s clear as the driven snow this man is a hired gunslinger. And, like as not, he’s working for Steiger. All they want is to get their hands on your spread now that poor Amos is dead. We need to stick together. That’s the best way to defeat these varmints.’

  Elsa Durham hesitated. She was torn between the acerbic allegation of her friends and neighbours, and the charismatic persona of this mysterious newcomer.

  ‘You can’t believe the claim of some drifter who just happens by,’ the protective blacksmith insisted.

  The virulent accusation was ignored as Elsa held the stranger’s prominent gaze. At the same time, she was desperately trying to delve beneath the hard exterior. He certainly didn’t possess the rough-edged crudity redolent of Web Steiger’s usual gunslicks. ‘Sticking his neck out certainly didn’t help my father, did it, Obe?’ she declared quietly. The cutting invective was sufficient to silence any further attempt to vilify the newcomer.

  Ben took advantage of this unexpected dent in the hostile mood. ‘All I want is to help out, if’n you’ll let me. And, according to Chico Lafferty, your pa was the man to give me the low-down. Now that he’s passed on, ma’am,’ he coaxed this enticing female gently, ‘perhaps you would be good enough to fill me in on the trouble I seem to have accidentally stumbled into. I ain’t no homesteader, so any assistance in keeping the place afloat would sure be welcome.’

  Elsa considered the request, undecided as to whether she should be placing her trust in a man she barely knew. But what other option was there? The way things were shaping up in the Nueces, Web Steiger would soon be top dog, and those who displayed any resistance to his evil ambitions would be wiped out, just like her father and the others who had tried to fight back. Lafferty was lucky to have escaped with his life. And it was all down to this stranger. She owed him a hearing at least.

  Elsa walked over to her horse and mounted up. ‘We’ll ride out to my place straight away and I’ll explain the situation. Then you can take a look at the books my father kept for the Jaybird.’

  Before Ben could join her, Obediah Crawley stopped him. He was joined by the other mourners. ‘Take advantage of that poor girl, and you’ll have us to answer to, mister. She’s suffered enough already and don’t need more trouble from the likes of you.’ More hostile muttering rippled through the gathering.

  Ben stood his ground. A bleak regard panned across the surly faces. ‘I may be known for hiring my gun out to the highest bidder, mister. But Chico Lafferty has placed his trust in me, and Miss Durham appears to accept that. And I intend carrying out my side of the bargain.’ Without waiting for a reply, he mounted up and followed the girl.

  It was an hour’s ride to the Durham spread. Little was said on the way out there. Both of these two unlikely associates were wondering anxiously what the future held for them. It was only when they arrived at the Durham homestead that Elsa voiced the conundrum that had been eating away at her since leaving the cemetery.

  ‘You mentioned something about being known for your reputation,’ she posed tentatively. ‘Does that mean you’re just another hired gun, like Rizzo?’

  Needing to ensure that his response to her query hit the mark, he hesitated. The girl wrongly construed the uncertainty. ‘I thought so,’ she snapped. ‘If’n that’s the case, I want nothing more to do with you.’ She turned away, displaying her disdain.

  ‘You’re right in assuming that Ben Chisum sells his gun hand for hard cash.’ Elsa swung round, a look of horror warping her face. It was obvious she was cognisant of his hard-nosed repute. Seeing the abhorrent regard aimed his way, Ben anxiously hurried on, intent on clearing up the confusion. ‘But unlike what you might have heard, I only step in where justice and fair play are being contes
ted. More often than not, my guns have to do the talking. So if’n you folks want rid of Web Steiger and all he stands for, then gun law is the only thing those critters understand.’

  The ardent plea for tolerance appeared to have struck the right note. Elsa’s stiff manner relaxed noticeably. ‘I have to admit, though,’ he continued, ‘hearing that Squint Rizzo had been taken on by Steiger was a huge inducement. Him and me have unfinished business.’ He didn’t elaborate when Elsa raised a quizzical eye. Instead, changing the subject with a warm smile, he declared, ‘My mouth is drier than the desert wind. Any chance of a cup of coffee now I’m here?’

  The handsome stranger’s mesmerizing smile had won the girl over. It was returned with a cautious hint of coquetry as she entered the cabin.

  A pot of coffee was duly brewed. Together with a plate of tasty homemade cinnamon cakes, the two rather discomfited allies sat round the table in the living room. Elsa explained in detail what was happening to their valley: how Web Steiger, as the biggest rancher with his S Bar 7 brand, had decided that he wanted the whole caboodle for raising cattle.

  ‘We homesteaders have been treated like criminals,’ Elsa averred vigorously. ‘And when Pa objected, he paid the price.’ Tears broke out on her face. ‘Steiger has the power and money to enforce his version of the law as an excuse for removing those who refuse to up sticks and leave of their own accord. The skunk has masked his odious scheme under the banner of vigilante law, claiming all the homesteaders are stealing land reserved for cattle.’