The E.R. Slade Western Omnibus No.1

by E. R. Slade

  “Come out here,” he said, and led the way into a shed in the rear stacked with stickered short lumber. Hunter took him into a far corner near an old grindstone.

  “What’s got you after the Clausons?” he asked, watching Ben intently.

  Ben told of Nancy’s troubles. As he spoke, Hunter leaned toward him further and further.

  “I need votes on the Council,” Ben ended up with. “Can I count on yours?”

  “Young feller, I’d like to. But I’ve got to think of my family and my shop here. How many votes you got so far?”

  Ben told him briefly of his conversations with Wade and Stevens. “So I’ll need to be sure of one more besides yours,” he said.

  “And you couldn’t tell about Wade, eh?”

  “No. What do you think he’ll do?”

  “I dunno. He’s in pretty tight with ’em, the way I notice. But you never can tell with lawyers. And anyway, look at the rest of us—none of us’ll vote agin ’em, either, nor let on to want to unless we thought we could make it stick. Stevens is probably right about the Larson boys. Still, you never know. They got a business and families to protect, just like the rest of us, and maybe they’re making sure nobody ever suspects what they really think. You try ’em, sonny, an’ let me know if you get anywhere. If you can round up that other vote, I might be able to he’p you find some men to bring to back our hand. I ain’t guaranteeing nothing, you understand, but I got an idea or two, you see. You let me know when you got three votes, counting mine.”

  Bolstered by this conversation, Ben decided to go see the Larsons at the mill, which was down a lane a few doors along from the cooper’s. It was a big, sprawling establishment two hundred yards off the main street in town. The mill ran on steam generated by burning slab wood.

  Though mills tended to be dangerous places, Ben had a fondness for them, having worked in several before trying his hand at droving cattle. He’d always liked the smell of new-sawn wood anyway.

  As he approached he could hear the sawyer hollering for more steam—sawyers always hollered for more steam, even if the governor balls were spinning right out straight.

  He located the office and asked to talk to either or both of the Larson brothers. The clerk thought he wanted a job and sent him to the foreman, who told him the Larsons were busy men and wouldn’t see him unless it was about a big contract.

  “They are both on the Town Council,” Ben told the foreman, hollering to be heard above the whine of the saw, the roar of the fire in the boiler, and the puffing of steam. Men bare to the waist and gleaming with sweat were feeding slabs into the boiler as fast as they could. “They’ll be voting tomorrow on something important and I have to talk to them about it.”

  The foreman pointed out the building to go to but said, “You can try, but they won’t see you, I’m pretty sure.”

  Ben did try, and a self-important clerk told him coldly that the Larsons were both elsewhere at the moment, but it wouldn’t matter because they only discussed business on these premises and if he had anything to say to the Council he should go see Mr. Wade, and “Good day to you.”

  “This is about the Clausons,” Ben told the clerk. “It’s about whether the Council should vote them out of office.”

  The clerk’s eyebrows went up. “Who is it that wants the Council to do that?”

  “I do,” Ben said.

  The eyebrows went higher, then did a little dance.

  “It’s no joke,” Ben said. “You willing to stand up with fair-minded men and help get rid of these thieves and murderers?”

  “You’re a fool,” the clerk said. “Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t ever talk that kind of talk in this town. It won’t pay. I’m trying to do you a kindness, mister.”

  “So the Larsons are afraid of them, too?”

  “The Larsons are afraid of nobody.”

  “If that’s really so, they’ll want to talk to me. Assuming they value freedom and property rights.”

  “They have no reason at all to talk to you. Now get out of here.”

  Ben adjusted his new hat so it came lower over his eyes. “There’s going to be some changes in this town, one way or another. You may want to think about what your position is going to be once that happens.”

  The man just looked at him with his mouth slightly open. “Good day to you, to,” Ben said, and walked out.

  The longer he was away from Nancy, the more nervous about her welfare he got, so he decided that before he did anything further he would go check on her. He went along the rears of the buildings cautiously, especially as he neared the marshal’s office, with its jail of cut stone blocks in the back.

  There were bars but no glass in the small, high, single window in the back wall of the jail, and as he approached, he could hear Clauson’s voice, raised and angry.

  “I’m telling you to stop, Kid,” he said. “You’re making people talk. You keep your guns in your holsters until I tell you to shoot them, you understand? And I don’t want you fooling around down by the Bailey house, either.”

  “I guesth I can hev a little fun if I want,” came a liquor-thickened voice, sounding aggrieved. “It’s our town, ain’t it? And mine as much as yours, too.”

  “It is not your town. It’s my town. You got that? The way you’re spraying lead around you might hit somebody and make complications.”

  Ike Clauson worried about complications? Why? Was it reasonable to think he might actually be worried about the Council voting him out? That presupposed he knew about it already. But that was certainly possible.

  “I got old Bailey, didn’t I?” the Kid was saying. “Shut him up good.”

  “Well, he maybe had it coming, but next you might hit the girl. And I got plans for her.”

  “And mebbee I got some plans, too.”

  “Plans?” Ike came back sharply. “For the girl? Are you saying you got her somewhere?”

  “No, I ain’t got her, not yet. I ain’t seen her anywhere.”

  “You do, you let me know. But let me catch you fooling with her and I’ll take your hide off.”

  “You ain’t got a right to hog every little ...”

  “Kid, one more word out’n you and I’ll take them fancy guns away right now.”

  Kid Clauson grumbled something in a beaten, low voice that Ben couldn’t quite make out, a door closed, and there was no more conversation.

  The sun was about to go down behind the ridge to the west as Ben reached the Ryans’. He was thinking he’d keep what he’d overheard to himself since everybody was upset enough already.

  He looked carefully all around, then stepped quickly to the door and went inside. He was just wondering whether he should knock on the inner door when he heard Mary’s voice, eager and confiding. Eavesdropping on the Clausons didn’t bother his conscience at all, but eavesdropping on Mary seemed improper. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped in spite of himself when he heard what she was saying,

  “Oh, Nancy, you’ve just got to tell me. Wherever did you find a beau like Mr. Gordon?”

  To which he heard Nancy exclaim, “Mary, you mustn’t talk about him that way!” There was a lilt in her voice Ben had never heard before. He knew he should knock but still didn’t. “Mr. Gordon is ... he’s a very ... Mr. Gordon is a very fine man. But he’s not my beau.”

  Well, that was what he’d wanted to find out, wasn’t it? Disgusted with himself, he lifted his hand again to knock.

  “But of course he is!” Mary said. “Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you? If you weren’t so busy being scrupulous,”—she paused self-consciously at having used such a long word—“about positively everything, you would admit it. He can hardly take his eyes off you! And,” she added significantly, “you look at him just the same way—don’t think I haven’t noticed!”

  “That’s enough foolish talk,” Nancy said crossly. “Now, are you going to measure off this cloth or not?”

  “Well,” Mary said, “if such a handsome, gallant man a
s Mr. Gordon were my beau, I’d admit it to you.”

  Ben felt the heat rise in his face. With all that was going on and the danger they were in, here he stood listening in on this. He was so embarrassed at his own lack of character that he felt like turning around and going away—after all, he’d found out they were all right here, which was what he wanted to know.

  “Mr. Gordon is a gallant gentleman,” Nancy was saying, “but it wouldn’t be right for me to try to speak for his feelings.”

  “But at least you can admit he’s handsome.”

  “Well, of course,” Nancy said. “Anybody can see that.”

  And they both laughed.

  About as handsome as a cow pie, Ben thought to himself, finally roused to put a stop to both his own foolishness and theirs. It was time for him to be thinking of how little Mary seemed to realize the danger both she and her friend were in. She was more interested in making a romantic fantasy out of the business than anything else, and maybe that could be dangerous.

  He went in without knocking.

  Both girls looked up in surprise, Nancy jumping up from the stool he’d been sitting on. Then came a look of overwhelming relief and she put down the cloth she was holding and stepped toward him.

  “No problems?” he asked, aware his face was still warm.

  “No,” Nancy said. “Thank God you’re back safely.”

  Mary was watching the proceedings with shining, knowing eyes.

  “When do you expect your father to get home?” he asked her.

  “Anytime after dark.”

  Ben had had some idea of giving Mary a little lecture on how important it was to be serious about things, but now realized he’d have to reveal his having overheard them in order to say what he had it in mind to. She could see he intended to say something, and when he didn’t a smile came over her that suggested she’d guessed more than he wished she had.

  “So,” he said, “he could be here any minute. I’ll wait and compare notes with him before I do anything more.”

  He got some wood in for the stove and then sat in a corner of the kitchen near the chimney, enjoying the warmth and watching the girls work by lamplight cutting out cloth for a new shirt for Mary’s father. They chattered between themselves, Mary casting a knowing look at him from time to time.

  Nancy was back-to him and didn’t look around. But there was something in the aspect of the way she sat that made his eye keep returning to her. It was hard not to contrast the pleasant peaceful normalcy of the scene with the threat that might be just outside the door.

  He got up occasionally to check windows to the front and rear as his mind ran on possible ways to convince a lot of men to join the fight against the Clausons. But his thoughts tended to drift to how it might be to have a house of his own somewhere and come home to it and find Nancy there looking as she looked now. Then he’d catch himself and try again to concentrate on what had to be done.

  Gilbert Ryan came clumping home about a half hour after dark, to be greeted with relief by his perennially frightened wife, who had been lying down in the other room not well, but got up when her husband came in. Supper was put on and they all sat down to it.

  Ben filled Ryan in on where he’d gotten to, and then asked, “How’d you do with finding men to side us?”

  Ryan shook his head dubiously. “Had no luck at all. It’s not that they disagree with us. But nobody wants to stick his neck out.”

  “If everybody figures that way, we lose.”

  “I know. I tried to tell them that.”

  “We won’t have the votes if we don’t show them some backing.”

  “There’s a funny thing, though. I could swear there’s something some of these men know that I don’t. It’s as though there’s something about to happen and they don’t want to be anywhere around when it does.”

  “When what happens?”

  “I have no idea. It’s just a feeling I got. Nobody said it.”

  “You think maybe Clauson has some kind of plans they know about?”

  “It could be, but whatever it is, nobody wants to even talk about the Clausons, let alone go up against them.”

  “The meeting is tomorrow night at seven-thirty. That means we have about a day to find a minimum of ten men. Now, who can you think of that you haven’t talked to yet?”

  “You know, Ben, it might be smart to call off that meeting. You say Ike Clauson will be there. Nobody’ll come if they know that, and I’m not going to lie to them about it.”

  “If we don’t try, we have no chance of a favorable vote.”

  “And if we lose, Clauson will throw you in jail—if he doesn’t decide to hang you outright.”

  Ben momentarily felt Nancy’s warm hand on his under the table. He couldn’t help wondering what the gesture meant.

  “Maybe you had better find out what these other men know,” Mrs. Ryan said. “Before Mr. Gordon goes to that meeting.”

  “I wouldn’t mind knowing that,” Ben said. “But there’re only two choices here. We find men who will help us—and there must be ten men somewhere in this town who will—and we convince the Council, or we give up that approach and I’ll have to face down Ike Clauson myself.”

  “You can’t do that,” Mrs. Ryan said. “He’ll kill you. Think of how Nancy will feel if that happens.”

  Ben glanced involuntarily at Nancy, who kept her gaze on the food in her plate. Just how did she feel? Not that this was the time to think about it.

  “It’s not my first choice,” Ben told Mrs. Ryan, “I assure you. But they are not going to get away with killing Nancy’s father, stealing everything he owned, and shooting Nancy’s house full of holes. Somebody’s got to stop them. If it comes down to me doing it, then it does. But it’s going to get done.” By the end of this speech Ben’s voice had grown hard.

  “Mr. Gordon,” Nancy said, “I think if you can’t find enough men willing to go to that meeting, we should go to Laskey’s livery instead and get our horses and leave. I don’t want to be the cause of you having to face those Clausons all alone.”

  “We’ve got to find men enough, somehow.”

  “But if you can’t?”

  “I’ve still got to try to convince the Council. If that fails, then I probably should get you out of town somewhere safe before I try to deal with this thing on my own. But right now we need to be thinking about how to succeed with the Council, not about what to do if we fail.”

  “Well,” Mary said, “Nancy and I’ll go to that meeting, won’t we, Nancy?”

  “Don’t be silly, dear,” said her mother.

  “Won’t we, Nancy?”

  Nancy’s hand found Ben’s under the table again. And this time it wasn’t momentary. “You should stay home, Mary,” she said. “But I will be there if Mr. Gordon thinks it will help.”

  “That would be very dangerous,” Ben said. “And serve no purpose. Miss Ryan, you need to think about how your actions might endanger your family. But I really admire your courage. If I could find just a dozen men with half the courage you and Miss Bailey have the Clausons wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Nancy squeezed his hand, but he still didn’t know what she meant by it.

  Chapter Eight

  It had been a long, exhausting, unfruitful twenty-four hours. The only good thing about it was that nobody had bothered the Ryan house and the women inside stayed safe.

  Ben thought he might have talked to more than half the men in town, and just two of them had told him they would help, but only if he could find twenty more. Three times he’d barely escaped being seen by Ike Clauson, and by noon people he talked to sometimes mentioned that Clauson had been there looking for him. Quite often, Ben talked to men who seemed to genuinely applaud Clauson, and several told him if it came to a fight with the dissatisfied crowd they’d be happy to back the marshal. And two different further attempts to talk to the Larson brothers had failed.

  Now it was seven o’clock in the evening and at the Ryans’ supper had been e
aten—more like toyed with and looked at than eaten—and they were talking about what should happen now.

  “Doesn’t it seem plain enough we’re going to lose?” Nancy said. “I still think the smartest thing to do is get our horses and leave. There must be some way we can throw him off the trail. And maybe he won’t follow.”

  “He’ll follow all right,” Ben said. “If we have to run we’re going to need some luck. But I’d rather beat them if we can. We can’t do that by running. If there’s any chance at all with the Council I don’t want to miss it. I owe all of you that much.”

  “I’m not sure what you’ll gain by going to that meeting,” Ryan said, his wide brow furrowed. “They’re not going to have confidence enough to vote our way without a small army to enforce the decision, and we don’t have it. And it doesn’t make any sense to try to do anything without that vote, does it?”

  “Not with Nancy still in town. But with her safe I can come back and do something, Council or no Council. Miss Bailey’s property has been stolen and you all are living in fear and I’ve had enough of it.

  “But by far the best way is to get the Council to take a stand. I know it doesn’t look promising, but there’s no chance at all if I don’t try. If they vote the other way, they do, and we’ve done our best. Then I concentrate on getting Miss Bailey out of this town safely.

  “As for the meeting, I should go there alone. No use advertising that you are connected to me, under the circumstances.”

  “But you can’t win,” Mrs. Ryan said. “And after you lose, think what Clauson will do to you! And we still don’t know what everybody’s keeping so quiet about.”

  “I plan to be very respectful of everybody and give my reasons and tell them if they decide otherwise I will be leaving town. If Clauson tries to do anything to me after that,” Ben continued, iron coming into his voice, “he will find it difficult.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Who will stop him?”

  “Mrs. Ryan, I’ll stop him.”

  “But you’ll be killed,” she said, lifting her hands, then dropping them hopelessly. She looked at Nancy as though Nancy were already bereaved a second time.