He heard shouts and yells, and then a drunken cowhand blasted three shots into the air.
Ross Haney hitched his guns into place and started down the road into Soledad. He was walking fast.
IX
The disappearance of Rolly Burt was a nine-day wonder in the town of Soledad and the Ruby Hills. Ross Haney, riding in and out of town, heard the question discussed and argued from every standpoint. Burt had not been seen in Rico, nor in Pie Town. Nor had any evidence of him been found on the trails. No horses were accounted missing, and the search of the Box N cowhands had been fruitless. Neither Allan Kinney nor May asked any questions of Ross, although several times he recognized their curiosity.
The shooting and the frenzied search that followed had left the town abnormally quiet. Yet the rumor was going around that with the end of the coming roundup, the whole trouble would break open again and be settled, once and for all. For the time being, with the roundup in the offing, both ranches seemed disposed to ignore the feud and settle first things first.
Second only to the disappearance of Rolly Burt was Ross Haney himself as a topic of conversation. He spent money occasionally, and he came and went around Soledad, but no one seemed to have any idea what he was doing, or what his plans were. Curiosity was growing, and the three most curious men were Walt Pogue, Chalk Reynolds, and Star Levitt. There was another man even more curious, and that one was Emmett Chubb.
It was after the disappearance of Burt that Chubb first heard of Haney’s presence in the Ruby Hills. The RR hands ate at one long table presided over by Chalk himself, and Syd Berdue sat always at his right hand.
“Heard Walt Pogue an’ his man Voyle had some words with that Haney,” Reynolds said to Berdue. “Looks like he’s gettin’ this country buffaloed.”
Berdue went white to the lips and started to make an angry reply when he was cut off by the sudden movement down the table. Emmett Chubb had lunged to his feet. The stocky, hard-faced gunman leaned across the table. “Did you say Haney?” he rasped. “Would that be Ross Haney?”
“That’s right.” Reynolds looked up sharply. “Know him?”
Chubb sat back in his chair with a thud. “I should smile I know him. He’s a-huntin’ me.”
“You?” Reynolds stared. “Why?”
Chubb shrugged. “Me an’ a friend of his had a run-in. You knew him. Vin Carter.”
“Ah? Carter was a friend of Haney’s?” Reynolds chewed in silence. “How good is this Haney?”
“He thinks he’s plumb salty. I wouldn’t be for knowin’, however. Down thataway they sure set store by him.”
A slim, dark-faced cowhand looked up and drawled softly: “I know him, Emmett, an’, when you tangle with him, be ready. He’s the hombre who went into King Fisher’s hide-out in Mexico after a horse one of Fisher’s boys stole off him. He rode the horse out, too, an’ the story is that he made Fisher take water. He killed the hombre who stole his horse. The fellow was a fool half-breed who went for his gun.”
“So he’s chasin’ you, Emmett?” Reynolds muttered. “Maybe that accounts for his bein’ here.”
“An’ maybe he’s here because of Vin Carter,” Berdue said. “If he is, that spells trouble for Pogue. That won’t hurt us any.”
In the days that had followed the escape of Rolly Burt, Haney had not been idle. He had thrown and branded several of the wild cattle, and had pushed a few of them out into the open valley below Thousand Springs. There would be plenty of time later to bring more of them; all he wanted was for the brand to show up when the roundup was under way.
Astride the Appaloosa, he headed for the VV. The morning was warm, but pleasant, and he rode down into the shade under the giant old cottonwoods feeling very fit and very happy. Several of the hands were in sight, and one of them was the slope-shouldered Dahl, mending a saddle girth.
Bob Vernon saw him and his brow puckered in a slight frown. He turned and walked toward Ross Haney. “Get down, won’t you? Sherry has been telling me something about you.”
“Thanks, I will. Is she here?” His purpose had been to verify, if he could, some of his ideas about that conversation he had seen and she had overheard at the springs. Also, he was curious about the set-up at the VV. It was the one place he had not catalogued in his long rides.
“Yes,” Vernon hesitated, “she’s here.” He made no move to get her. Suddenly he seemed to make a decision. “I say, Haney. You’re not coming with the idea of courting my sister, are you? You know she’s spoken for.”
“That idea,” Haney said grimly, “seems to be one everyone wants to sell me. First heard it from Star Levitt.”
Vernon’s lips tightened. “You mean Star talked to you about Sherry?”
“He did. And Sherry told me she was to marry him.”
Bob Vernon appeared relieved. He relaxed. “Well, then you understand how things are. I wouldn’t want any trouble over her. Star’s pretty touchy.”
“Understand this.” Haney turned sharply around and faced Bob. “I was told that by Levitt and by Sherry. Frankly the fact that she is engaged to him doesn’t make a lot of difference to me. I haven’t told that to her, but you’re her brother, and I’m tellin’ you. You don’t need any long-winded explanations about how I feel about her. When I’m sure she’s in love with him, I’ll keep away. Until then, I’m in to stay.”
Surprisingly Vernon did not get angry. He appeared more frightened and worried. “I was afraid of that,” he muttered. “I should have known.”
“Now, if you won’t get her for me, I’ll go to the house after her.”
“After whom?” They turned swiftly to see Sherry walking toward them, smiling. “Hello, Ross. Who were you coming after? Who could ever make your voice sound like that?”
“You,” he said bluntly. “Nobody but you.”
Her smile vanished, but there was warmth in her eyes. “That’s nice,” she said. “You say it as if you mean it.”
“I do.”
“Boss?” A tall, lean, and red-headed cowhand had walked up to them, and, when they turned, he asked: “Who has the Gallows Frame brand?”
“Gallows Frame?” Vernon shrugged. “Never heard of it. Where did you see it?”
“Up toward Thousand Springs. Seen several mighty fine-lookin’ bulls an’ a few cows up thataway an’ all wearin’ that brand, a gallows frame with a ready noose hangin’ from it. An’ them cows, why they are wilder’n all get out. Couldn’t get anywhere near ’em.”
“That’s something new,” Vernon commented. “Have you seen any of them, Sherry?”
She shook her head, but there was a strange expression in her eyes. She glanced over at Ross Haney, who listened with an innocence combined with humor that would have been a perfect giveaway to anyone who knew him.
“No, I haven’t seen any of them, Bob.” She looked at the redhead again. “Mabry, have you met Ross Haney? He’s new around here, but I imagine he’s interested in brands.”
Mabry turned to Haney and grinned. “Heard somethin’ about you,” he said. “Seems you had a run-in with Syd Berdue.”
Ross noted that Kerb Dahl’s fingers had almost ceased to move in their work on the girth.
Mabry walked away with Bob Vernon, and Sherry turned to Ross, her eyes cool but friendly. “I thought you might be interested in knowing Bill Mabry. He was always a good friend of that cowhand they were looking for in town . . . Rolly Burt.”
Haney’s eyes shifted to her thoughtfully. There seemed to be very little this girl did not know. She would be good to have for a friend, and not at all good as an enemy. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful. Her eyes never seemed asleep, for she seemed to see everything and to comprehend what she was seeing. Was that a lucky guess about Burt? Or did she know? Would Kinney have told her?
Of course, he recalled, Kinney had said she had suggested him. That might be it. She was guessing.
Dahl’s ears were obviously tuned to catch every word, so he turned. “Shall we walk over and sit down?�
�� He took her elbow and guided her to a seat under one of the huge cottonwoods.
“Sherry,” he said suddenly, “I told Bob I didn’t intend to pay no attention to this engagement of yours unless I found out you were in love with Levitt. Are you?”
She looked away quickly, her face suddenly pale and her lips tight. Finally she spoke. “Why else would a girl be engaged to a man?”
“I haven’t any idea. There might be reasons.” He stared at her, and then his eyes strayed to Dahl. “Until you tell me you do, and look me in the eye when you say it, I’m goin’ ahead. I want you, Sherry. I want you like I never wanted anything in this world, an’ I mean to have you if you could care for me. I’m not askin’ you now. Just tellin’ you. When I came into this valley, I came expectin’ trouble, an’ I thought I knew all the angles. Well, I’ve found out there’s somethin’ more goin’ on here than I expected, an’ it’s somethin’ you know about.
“Maybe you don’t know it all. I’m bankin’ you don’t. You heard me talkin’ to myself. Well, what I said then goes. I’m here alone, an’ I’m ridin’ for my own brand, an’ you’ve guessed right, for that Gallows Frame is mine, an’ the noose is for anybody who wants to hang on it. The RR spread an’ the Box N are controlled by a couple of range pirates. They whipped and murdered smaller, weaker men to get what they’ve got. If they keep it, they’ll know they’ve been in a fight.”
Sherry had listened intently. Her face had become serious. “You can’t do anything alone, Ross. You must have help.” She put her hand on his arm. “Ross, is Rolly safe? Understand, I am not asking you where he is, just if he is safe. He did me a good turn once, and he’s an honest man.”
“He’s safe. For your own information, and not to be repeated, he’s workin’ for me now. But he can’t do much for another ten days or more, an’ by that time it may be too late. Can I rely on Mabry?”
“You can. If he will work for you, he will die for you, and kill for you if it’s in the right kind of fight. He was Burt’s best friend.”
“Then, if I can talk to him, you’ll lose a hand.” He looked down at her. “Sherry, what’s goin’ on here? Who is Star Levitt? Who are those men I saw in town? This Kerb Dahl here, and Voyle? I know there’s some connection.”
She got up quickly. “I can’t talk about that. Star Levitt is going to be my husband.”
Ross got up, too. Roughly he picked up his hat and jerked it on his head, then stood there, hands on hips, staring at her.
“Not Levitt!” he said harshly. “Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll find out, anyway.”
He turned abruptly, and saw the two men he had seen in town at the restaurant—Kerb Dahl and the shorter, hard-faced man.
In that single instant he became aware of many things. Bob Vernon stood in the door, white as death. Kerb Dahl, a hard gleam in his eyes, was on the right and he walked with elbows bent, hands swinging at his gun butts. Behind them Haney could see the big, old tree with a bench around it, and a rusty horseshoe nailed to the trunk. Two saddled horses stood near the corral, and the sunlight through the leaves dappled the earth with shadow.
Behind him there was a low moan of fear from Sherry, but he did not move, only waited and watched the two men coming toward him. It could be here. It could be now. It could be at this moment.
Dahl spoke first, his lean, cadaverous face hard and with a curiously set expression. The shorter man had moved apart from him a little. Haney remembered the girl behind him, and knew he dare not fight—but some sixth sense warned him that somewhere else would be a third man, probably with a rifle. The difference.
Kerb Dahl spoke. “You’re Ross Haney. I reckon you know me. I’m Dahl, an’ this here is the first time you’ve come to the VV, an’ this is goin’ to be the last. You come on this place again an’ you get killed. We don’t aim to have no troublemakers around.”
Ross Haney held very still, weighing his next words carefully. This could break into a shooting match in one instant. “Then have your artillery ready when I come back,” he warned them. “Because, when I’m ready, I’ll come back.”
“We told you.”
Ross looked them over coldly, knowing they had expected to find him as tough and ready for a fight as he had been with Chalk Reynolds and Berdue. Yet there was a queer sense of relief in their eyes, too. Haney guessed that, while there must be a hidden rifleman, these men were afraid for their skins.
Mabry stood nearby as Ross swung into the saddle. “I’ve got a job for you if you can get to town within the next twelve hours. At the saloon. You might run into a friend of yours.”
Mabry did not reply, so Haney rode away, leaving the cowhand standing there. He had spoken softly enough so he knew he was not overheard. Yet Haney knew he was no closer to a solution than before.
There was danger here. An odd situation existed in the Ruby Hills. Scowling, he considered it. On the one hand was Walt Pogue with Bob Streeter and Repp Hanson, two notorious killers. On the other was Chalk Reynolds with Syd Berdue and Emmett Chubb.
Here at the VV was a stranger situation. Bob and Sherry Vernon, who owned the ranch, seemed completely dominated by Levitt and their own hands. Also Levitt had a strong claim of some kind on Sherry herself. What could be behind that? Scowling, Ross considered it. Whatever it was, it could mean everything to him, not only for his plans in the valley, but because of his love for Sherry.
Somewhere in this patchwork of conflicting interests, there was another grouping, that small band that had gathered at the springs with Syd Berdue. The band was made up of at least one man from each ranch—of Kerb Dahl of the VV, Voyle of the Box N, and Tolman of the Three Diamonds.
Where did this last group stand? Voyle, from his actions, wanted Pogue to know nothing of his tie-up with Dahl. Did Reynolds know about Burdue’s meeting at the springs? Who was behind it?
X
Quiet reigned at the Bit and Bridle when Ross Haney rode into town in the late afternoon. He left his horse at the rail and strolled through the half doors to the cool interior.
Only Pat, the bartender, was present. The room was dusky and still. Pat idly polished glasses as he came in, glanced up at him, and then put a bottle and a glass on the bar. Ross leaned an elbow on the hardwood and dug out the makings. He built a smoke without speaking, liking the restfulness and coolness after his hot ride, and thinking over what he had seen at the VV.
“You’ve lived here a long time, Pat?”
“Uhn-huh. Before Carter was killed.”
“Lots of changes?”
“Lots.”
“There’s goin’ to be more, Pat.”
“Room for ’em.”
“Where do you stand?”
Pat turned sharply and fixed his eyes on Haney. “Not in the middle. Not with Reynolds or Pogue. As for you, I’m neither for you nor against you.”
“That’s plain enough.” Haney didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry. After Pat’s attitude in regard to Burt, he had hoped he might be an ally. “But you don’t sound like much help.”
“That’s right. No help at all. I’ve got my saloon. I’m doin’ all right. I was here before Reynolds and Pogue. I’ll be here after they are gone.”
“And after I’m gone?”
“Maybe that, too.” Pat suddenly turned again and rested his big hands on the bar. “You fool around with Pogue all you want. With Reynolds, too. But you lay off Levitt an’ his crowd, you hear? They ain’t human. They’ll kill you. They’ll eat you like a cat does a mouse, when they get ready.”
“Maybe.” Ross struck a match with his left hand. “Who are his crowd?”
Pat looked disgusted. “You’ve been to the VV. He runs that spread. Don’t you be too friendly with that girl, either. She’s poison.”
Haney let that one ride. Maybe she was poison. Maybe feeling the way he did about her was the thing that would break him. He was a strong man. He had not lived that long under the conditions he knew without knowing his own strength and knowing how it comp
ared with the strength of others. He knew that, when he was sure, he would push his luck to any degree, but as yet he was not pushing it, as yet no one in the valley knew his real intentions.
Pogue believed he had come looking for Chubb. Reynolds and Berdue, despite their hatred for him, believed he was after Pogue. Each was prepared to keep hands off in hopes he would injure the other. Yet the roundup was going to blow the lid off, for the roundup was going to show that he had cattle on the range, and had pitched his hat into the ring. Then he would be in the middle of the fight with every man’s hand against him.
Pat’s warning was right. Pogue and Reynolds were dangerous, but nothing compared to Levitt’s crowd. Lifting his glass, Ross studied his reflection in the mirror, the reflection of a tall, wide-shouldered young man with blunt, bronzed features and a smile that came easily to eyes that were half-cynical, half-amused. He was a tall young man with a flat-brimmed, flat-crowned black hat and a gray, shield-chested shirt and a black knotted kerchief, black crossed belts supporting the worn holsters and walnut-stocked guns. He was a fool, he decided, to think as he did about Sherry. What could he offer such a girl? On the other hand, what could Star Levitt offer her?
Regardless, he was here to stay. When he had raced the Appaloosa into the street of Soledad, he had come to remain. If he had to back it with gunfire, he would do just that. Carefully he considered the state of his plans. There was no fault to find there. In fact, he had progressed beyond where he had expected in that he had a friend, an ally, a man who would stay with him to the last ditch. He had Rolly Burt.
Camping on the mesa, the wounded man was rapidly knitting. They had talked much, and Burt had told him what to expect of the roundup. He knew the characters and personalities of the people of the Ruby Hills, and he knew something more of Pogue and Reynolds. Over nights beside the campfire they had yarned and argued and talked. Both of them had ridden for Charles Goodnight, both for John Chisum. They knew the same saloons in Tascosa and El Paso. Both had been over the trail to Dodge and to Cheyenne. Both had been in Uvalde and Laredo, and they talked the nights away of cattle and horses, of rustling and gunfighters until they knew each other, and knew they spoke the same language. Rolly had talked much of Mabry. He was a good man. While Mabry liked both Bob and Sherry Vernon, he had confided to Burt that he must leave the VV or be killed.
The Man from Battle Flat Page 8