Trail of the Hanged Man

by Steve Hayes

  Lawless looked between the spokes of the nearest wheel and saw Raven emerge from the stall. ‘I wasn’t doing nothing,’ she said defensively.

  ‘Anything,’ corrected her father. ‘If you were doing nothing, you had to be doing something.’

  ‘I meant I wasn’t listening to what you were saying.’

  ‘You’d better not be. I catch you eavesdropping and I’ll spank the fur off you.’

  ‘Have to catch me first.’

  ‘I’ll do that too,’ Sven said, more amused than angry, ‘and then I’ll double spank you.’ He faked a sudden grab at her, but she was ready and easily eluded him. She made no attempt to run away, though, and Lawless realized this was a game between them. ‘What’re you doing here anyway?’ Sven asked her. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be helping your mother?’

  ‘Nothing to help her with. That crazy Violet’s doing everything. And what she isn’t doing, Joey is.’ Raven frowned, puzzled. ‘I swear, the way they keep following Momma around, asking if they can do this or that, they must love doing chores.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ her father said. ‘They’ve just been raised properly and want to help out – unlike a certain young lady I know.’

  Raven made a face. ‘If being a lady means doing chores, I don’t want to be one. Are they going to be staying with us from now on?’ she added.

  ‘Until they have their own place to live, yes.’

  ‘They got an aunt and uncle in Denver, why don’t they go live with them?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Sven said. ‘Why, don’t you like having them around?’

  Raven shrugged. ‘I liked it better without them.’

  ‘Really? I figured you’d love their company. They’re almost your age, and when Joey’s better you and he can do things together. Then you won’t have to amuse yourself all day, or spend so much time at the reservation.’

  ‘I like being at the reservation,’ Raven said. ‘And I like being by myself even better.’ She took her slingshot from her back pocket and stretched the rubber strands. ‘There’s rabbits feeding back of the barn. Want me to kill one or two for supper?’

  ‘So long as you have no chores to do, yes.’

  Raven, already halfway to the door, stopped and looked at Lawless. ‘That gunfighter you know – one who shot the sheriff?’

  ‘Latigo Rawlins? What about him?’ Lawless said.

  ‘I seen him this morning ’fore sunup.’

  ‘Saw him, saw him,’ Sven corrected.

  ‘Where?’ said Lawless.

  ‘Greenwater Canyon.’

  ‘That’s in the hills east of here,’ Sven said for Lawless’ benefit. ‘Half of it’s on our property and the other half belongs to the Morgans – or did before the bank stepped in. What was he doing?’ he asked Raven.

  ‘I don’t know. Didn’t ask him.’

  ‘Did he see you?’ Lawless said.

  ‘Uh-uh. He was breaking camp when I come up on him. I watched him for a spell and after he’d saddled up, he started climbing over some rocks, you know, like he was looking for something. Then he rode off.’

  Sven frowned at Lawless. ‘Wonder what he was looking for?’

  Lawless shrugged, and turned to Raven. ‘Where was he headed?’

  ‘Santa Rosa, looked like. Want me to show you where I saw him?’

  Lawless looked questioningly at Sven.

  ‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘I’d like to know what Rawlins was up to myself. Oh, and take the horses. That way, you’ll be back in time for lunch.’

  It was a twenty-minute ride to Greenwater Canyon, so named because of the green-tinted water in the creek that flowed out of the steep rocky bluffs on either side. Lawless reined up in front of the narrow rock-strewn entrance, unhooked the safety strap that held his Colt in the holster and motioned for Raven to ride behind him. Obeying, she asked what was worrying him. When he didn’t answer, she said: ‘You think Mr Rawlins doubled back?’

  ‘Possible.’

  ‘You worried he might bushwhack you?’

  ‘Possible.’

  ‘But you’re his friend. Why would he shoot—?’

  Lawless reined up and looked back at her. ‘Let’s get something straight: Latigo’s not my friend. He’s not anybody’s friend.’

  ‘Then why’d he give you your gun back?’

  ‘To prove he wasn’t taking orders from the sheriff. It’s a sore point with him – like being called Shorty. Both things make him loco.’

  ‘Mean crazy?’

  ‘In a deadly way. As for why he’d shoot me, Lefty doesn’t need a reason. With him killing’s like an itch. When he itches, he scratches. Simple as that.’

  She looked at him suspiciously. ‘You ain’t making all this up, are you?’

  ‘I couldn’t be more serious.’ He rode on, Raven right behind him.

  They followed the creek as it curved between rocks and boulders that ancient landslides had brought tumbling down from the hillsides. Lawless did not turn his head but under the flat brim of his black Stetson his eyes were constantly moving, searching the rocky slopes for any sign of danger. Ahead, a dead piñon tree, bleached white by the sun, lay across the creek like a natural bridge.

  ‘Here,’ Raven said, reining up by the tree. ‘This is where I saw him.’

  Lawless dismounted, waited for her to join him and then told her to show him exactly what she saw Latigo doing. Head down as if looking for something, she walked over the broken rocks and loose shale piled alongside the creek.

  Lawless followed her. ‘Did you see him stop anywhere or pick up any rocks?’

  ‘No … Maybe … I don’t remember.’

  ‘An Apache would remember.’

  Raven thought back, face screwed into a frown. ‘Once, I think. Over there.’ She pointed at some nearby rocks.

  Lawless led her to them. ‘You’re sure it was here?’

  ‘Y-yes. I mean … I.…’ Uncertain, she threw up her hands. ‘It isn’t fair. I’m just a kid, you know. Can’t expect me to remember everything.’

  Lawless grasped her arm and pulled her close until their faces were only inches apart. ‘Don’t play that weak sister game with me. You want to be treated like an adult, act like one.’

  Raven glared at him. She pointed at the ground. ‘He stopped here, picked up a rock, turned it over in his hand then threw it away and kept looking. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘That’s better.’ Lawless hunkered down and dipped his hand in the cold, fast-moving greenish water. He scooped up a handful of sandy silt from the creek-bed, examined it then dropped it back in the water.

  ‘Ain’t no gold here, if that’s what you’re looking for.’

  Lawless, deep in thought, ignored her.

  ‘No silver, neither.’

  Lawless picked up a small, sharp-edged rock that at some time or other a man-made tool had split apart. Examining it, he then thoughtfully tossed it from hand to hand. ‘Ever see any prospectors here?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Four, five years ago. Miners mostly, from up around Silver City. Pa said they came here after their mines played out.’

  ‘Your father let them dig on his land?’

  ‘Only if they agreed to give him a share of what they found. But they never found anything. Here or upstream on the Morgans’ property. ’Least, nothing that made them keep on digging.’

  Lawless filed away the information. ‘We’re done here,’ he said. Mounting, he nudged his horse into a walk and let it pick its own way out of the canyon. He deliberately didn’t look back but could hear Raven’s horse following, its hoofs ringing sharply on the loose shale.

  Once they were clear of the canyon, Raven rode alongside Lawless. She didn’t say anything but every now and then he noticed her looking at him. It was a probing look, as if she was trying to figure out what made him tick. He let it slide for a mile or so then said, ‘If something’s chewing on you, spit it out.’

  She didn’t answer right away.
But just when he thought she had decided not to respond, she said: ‘You like my mother, don’t you?’

  Hiding his surprise, he said casually, ‘Yep.’

  ‘No, I mean you really like her.’

  He looked at her, trying to read her eyes to see if he could figure out where this was leading. But Raven’s dark, innocent gaze gave no inkling of what she was thinking and finally Lawless faced front, saying, ‘Your ma’s a fine generous woman. Gentle and kind, too. Be hard not to like her.’

  Raven laughed like she’d uncovered a secret.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You. Acting like you don’t really care when all along you do, you like her a lot, much more than you’re saying. I know you do ’cause I seen the way you look at her.’

  Deciding this should go no further, he leaned over and grabbed her reins, at the same time reining up so that both horses came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘What’re you trying to say?’

  His look scared her. She realized she wasn’t dealing with her father, a gentle loving man whom she adored, but with a stranger, a man she knew nothing about, a man whose cold, pale-amber stare warned her that he was capable of killing her and riding off without a trace of pity or guilt. Her bravado and truculent insolence, normally a wall of insulation behind which she hid, melted, leaving her naked and alone; vulnerable.

  ‘N-nothing,’ she stammered. ‘I mean I think it’s nice you like her. Momma needs a friend. She’s always worrying about someone else, me or Pa or our neighbors, and now Violet and Joey, never herself, and sometimes it wears on her, I know it does ’cause I’ve heard her crying, especially when she thinks she’s alone and … and—’ Suddenly she was crying herself, great wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.

  Lawless waited, trying to decide if this scrawny little girl who looked like a boy was putting on an act to gain his sympathy, or if he had truly upset her. Sensing it was the latter he pulled her horse close, intending to soothe her. But he couldn’t find the right words. Angry with himself, he rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

  It took a few minutes but finally Raven stopped crying. Lawless removed his hand and smiled at her. ‘Time we were getting back, sprout.’

  Raven nodded and dried her eyes with her fists. Then, kicking her horse into a lope, she rode alongside Lawless. She didn’t look at him or say anything for the rest of the ride. But there was new-found respect in her eyes and in her heart she knew that from now on she would trust this tall taciturn man and obey everything he told her to do without question.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When they arrived at the ranch Ingrid and Violet were spreading a blue-and white-checkered table cloth over the picnic table in front of the house. A breeze made the heat tolerable and Joey, arm still in a sling but moving more spryly now, kept the cloth from being blown away by weighting the corners with smooth flat rocks.

  Once they had all washed up and were seated, Sven thanked the Lord for their food and their blessings and everyone tucked in. There were hard-boiled eggs, cold roast-chicken, mashed potatoes, baked beans, home-baked bread and pitchers of pantry-cool lemonade made, Ingrid announced, by Violet.

  Lawless watched Raven, seated opposite, as Ingrid praised Violet and Joey for all their help and saw the resentment building in her eyes. His gaze shifted to Joey. Since returning from the reservation, the boy had been uneasy around him, barely speaking and doing all he could to avoid being alone with him. Now, as he caught Lawless looking at him, Joey quickly looked away and from then on kept his eyes on his plate. Lawless guessed the boy was still angry at him for shooting him, and knowing only time could heal Joey’s anger he turned his attention to Ingrid. Head thrown back, hair as gold as wheat in sunshine, she was laughing at something Sven had said. It was a wonderful laugh, spontaneous and musical, and Lawless knew he’d made a mistake by agreeing to stay – even for a few days. He wanted this woman more than he had thought possible, and every moment he was around her made him desire her more.

  The sound of horses approaching jarred his thoughts. He, and the others at the table, turned and saw a dozen riders approaching. They were grim, hard-looking men, all armed with rifles and six-guns, and led by a man in an expensive white Stetson on a magnificent all-black stallion.

  Lawless instinctively dropped his hand to his Colt. ‘You know who they are?’ he asked Sven.

  Sven nodded, momentarily too surprised to answer. ‘That’s Mr Stadtlander,’ he said finally. ‘And the men, they’re some of his riders, the Double SS boys. Remember, we were talking about him yesterday. How powerful he was?’

  Lawless nodded.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Sven said. ‘What the devil is he doing out here?’

  ‘Maybe they want to water their horses,’ Ingrid said. Turning to Lawless, she added, ‘When we first settled here we occasionally saw him and his son, Slade, in Santa Rosa. But then Mr Stadtlander’s gout and arthritis got worse and after that we never saw him again.’

  ‘That’s Slade riding beside him,’ Sven said. ‘The man wearing the gray hat, on the buckskin.’

  ‘And that black horse Mr Stadtlander’s on,’ Violet said, ‘that’s the mean one Joey was talking about.’

  Lawless looked at the gleaming black Morgan stallion, admiring its smooth, effortless gait, proudly arched neck and long flowing mane and tail. It was a horse that most men could only dream of owning, one that made all other horses Lawless had seen seem insignificant. Impressed, he studied the man riding it. Stadtlander was short, squat and powerfully built. But Lawless could tell by the way he sat in the saddle, shoulders hunched over and left hand curled unnaturally inward that arthritis was already starting to cripple him. But he was not surrendering easily. Despite the gray streaking his wavy brown hair and gunfighter’s mustache, his square, jut-jawed face was filled with arrogance and contempt for anyone who stood in his way. This was a man, Lawless knew, who felt he was above the law.

  ‘Want me to talk to him?’ Lawless asked Sven. ‘See what he wants?’

  ‘Let’s both talk to him,’ Sven said, rising. ‘But keep an eye on Slade. He’s got a chip on his shoulder and he’ll keep prodding you, hoping you’ll try to knock it off.’

  Stadtlander signaled for his riders to wait outside the gate. He and his son then rode slowly up to Lawless and Sven, standing in front of the house.

  ‘Afternoon, Mr Bjorkman. I’m Stillman—’

  ‘Stadtlander. Yes, I know, sir.’ Sven stepped closer, hand extended toward the cattle baron, and immediately had to jump back as the Morgan nipped at him.

  ‘Damn you,’ Stadtlander said, jerking on the reins. ‘Mind your manners!’ It took him a few moments to control the irascible stallion, but then he leaned down and shook Sven’s hand. ‘You’ll have to forgive Brandy, Mr Bjorkman. I don’t get to ride him enough these days and – well, as you can see, he’s gotten a tad rambunctious.’

  ‘He’s a magnificent animal,’ Sven said. ‘I’m sure he’s well worth the trouble. I don’t think we’ve ever met, sir,’ he added.

  ‘We haven’t,’ said Stadtlander. ‘But I’ve seen you and your lovely wife in Santa Rosa from time to time.’ As he was talking he glanced at Lawless, trying to size him up. ‘Don’t think we’ve met either, have we, mister?’

  Lawless shook his head but offered no greeting.

  Unaccustomed to being snubbed Stadtlander frowned, offended. But he knew danger when he saw it and not wanting trouble right now, decided not to press the tall man. Turning back to Sven, he introduced his son, Slade, to the bearded Norwegian. The two men nodded their hellos. Slade was taller and leaner than his father, but had none of the older man’s pride or indomitable spirit. Instead, despite all his advantages, he was nothing more than a sour-faced swaggering bully known for beating up whores and drunks.

  ‘You’re welcome to water your horses,’ Sven told Stadtlander. ‘And if you’re thirsty, there’s plenty of fresh lemonade.’

  ‘Thank you, but water�
��s all we’ll need.’ Stadtlander nodded to Slade, who gestured for the riders to follow him to the trough near the well.

  Stadtlander turned back to Sven. ‘I have something to say to the Morgans. Won’t take but a minute.’ Without waiting for Sven’s permission, he rode over to the table. There, tipping his hat politely to Ingrid, Stadtlander smiled at Violet and Joey. ‘Remember me?’

  Violet nodded. ‘You came to our ranch once to talk to my father.’

  ‘That’s right. I wanted to buy your spread, but your pa wouldn’t hear of it.’

  ‘Is that why you killed him, mister?’ Joey said.

  ‘Joey!’ Violet said.

  Statlander frowned, surprised. ‘Why would I want to kill your pa, son?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Joey said. ‘I don’t know why anyone would. I just know it was only a few days after you spoke to him that someone shot him.’

  ‘I give you my word, son, it was not me who shot your pa.’

  ‘Well, someone did,’ Joey said angrily. ‘And if it wasn’t you, it must have been Sheriff Tishman or Mr Edfors.’

  ‘Joey, be quiet!’ Violet said. ‘You mustn’t say things like that.’

  ‘I can understand your anger,’ Stadtlander said. ‘Reckon I’d feel the same way. But you’re accusing the wrong men. The same night your Pa was shot, fifty of my cows were run off. My foreman followed their tracks to the border. Said the rustlers must’ve driven them across into Mexico. My guess is they’re the same border trash who stopped at your ranch and gunned down your pa. Sound reasonable, son?’ he asked when Joey didn’t say anything.

  Joey shrugged. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Glad we agree,’ Stadtlander said. ‘Mr Edfors and Sheriff Tishman have their faults, like we all do, but they ain’t cold-blooded killers. You have my word on that.’

  Joey and Violet wilted under his fierce-eyed gaze.

  But Ingrid didn’t. ‘What exactly do you want, Mr Stadtlander?’