“Yeah, I been doin’ some ridin’, Pa. I got me a girl.”
“A girl! Well, why in tarnation don’t you bring her to the house so’s everybody can meet her?”
“ ’Cause, damn it, she’s a nester’s daughter!” Dewey faced his dad. “And I love her, Pa. We’re gonna be married.”
“You took up with nester trash?” Blake asked.
“She ain’t trash, Pa. And don’t you call her that. I’m warnin’ you, don’t do it.”
“You’re . . . warnin’ me?” Blake said, his voice small.
“That’s right, Pa.”
Blake hit his son, a sneaky punch that came out of the darkness and flattened the young man. He jerked his son’s gun from leather and shoved it behind his belt. “My son don’t date no damn nester’s whore.”
Dewey hooked one boot around his father’s ankle and brought the man down. “Maggie ain’t no whore!” the young man said, getting to his knees and knocking the crap out of his father.
Blake fell to one side and Dewey got to his boots. “Don’t you never call Maggie that again, Pa.”
Blake got to his feet, blood running from his mouth. “Damn nester whore!”
Down he went. Hubby stepped in to bust his brother’s head with a rifle butt and Lane pulled him back. “Let ’em fight it out, Hubby. They gotta settle it sometime.”
Father and son stood toe to toe for a moment, slugging it out, both of them taking some hard licks. Blake scored a good one and his son’s butt hit the ground. Father tried to kick son and Dewey grabbed his boot and twisted, throwing the man to the ground. He jumped on top of him and laid left and right to his dad’s jaw.
Frisco stepped in and pulled the young man off. “He’s out, boy,” the foreman said. “He’s had it. Now lay off.”
Lane and Hubby pulled their nearly unconscious dad to his feet and held him there. Pete brought a basin of water and a cloth from the kitchen.
“Here, Blake,” he said, holding the basin out.
“Hell with you!” Blake said, slurring the words through his busted and bleeding mouth. “I don’t need your damn sympathy.”
“I’m not offering any sympathy,” Pete said. “I’m just tryin’ to help a man who used to be my friend.”
Blake smashed the basin out of Pete’s hands. “You’re no friend of mine, Pete. All right, so you didn’t order that shot at me. But you still side with the nesters and the sheepmen. And that makes you my enemy . . .”
“And mine,” Raner said.
Hubby giggled and slobbered and cut his eyes to Millie, standing on the porch. He sure would like to get her all alone.
Blake turned to Dewey. “I’ll have all your gear packed. I don’t want you on my range. Not as long as you see that nester . . .” He bit back the word, not wanting his very powerful son to bust him in the mouth again. “. . . Girl. Now where do you want your crap sent?”
“Why don’t you send it into town?” Linwood suggested. “You’re gonna need a job, Dewey. You ever thought about deputy sheriffin’?”
“You offering me a job, Sheriff?”
“Sure am. And I’ll let you have time off to see your girl.”
“You just hired a deputy.”
Blake snorted his contempt at that and staggered off toward his horse. The dead and wounded were collected and the men rode off.
“Mother,” Pete called. “Would you please draw another basin of water and get some cloth so’s we can patch up Dewey here? Millie, pour us all some coffee and lay out them sandwiches. A good fight always makes me hungry!”
* * *
Matt and Sam kept their badges, but with the addition of Dewey Vernon, their services would not be needed as often for official business. Charlie started working with both Jimmy and Dewey, showing them the tricks of the gun-handling business. Both young men proved to be quick learners.
Blake Vernon sent his son’s belongings into town in a wagon, the young man’s three horses tied to the back of the wagon. The hand refused to lift a finger to help unload the gear. Linwood, Charlie, and Dewey unloaded the wagon.
“Your pa said to tell you this, Dewey: Your name’s been tooken out of the family Bible. You ain’t his son no more. Don’t never set foot on Circle V range.”
Jack Linwood pointed a finger at the man. “You take a message back to Blake, from me. This man, Dewey Vernon, is a deputy sheriff of this county. Anytime we have official business to take care of, he goes where he damn well pleases, and that includes Circle V range. Blake or any of you interferes, I’ll have warrants swore out on you and put your butts in jail . . . or kill you. Can you remember all that?”
“Shore can, Jack. I’ll give him your message.” The hand clucked the team into movement and rattled out of town.
Matt and Sam had walked up, to stand listening. Matt said, “Takes a bull-headed man to disown his son.”
“Or a damn stupid one,” Sam added.
“What you boys plannin’ for the rest of this day?” Jack asked.
“Prowl around. We got three days’ rations and are just gettin’ ready to head out. Anybody seen Louis Longmont?”
“Not hide nor hair. He’s stayin’ out at that fancy camp of his.”
“Since it turns out that Dewey here ain’t the D. we thought he was,” Charlie said, “do either of you boys have any idea who we’re lookin’ for?”
Matt and Sam shook their heads, Matt saying, “I thought I did. But it turned out wrong. I’m stumped.” Actually, that was not entirely true. Matt did have some ideas, but they were so fuzzy in his mind he had told only Sam. He hoped to brush away some of that fuzziness on this trip . . . provided he and Sam didn’t get shot while attempting it.
“You boys take care,” Jack told the brothers as they swung into the saddle. “And pin them badges on your shirts for some added protection.”
‘When the sunlight hits them, they also make good targets,” Sam said.
“For a fact,” Jack admitted. “For a fact.”
The brothers rode out of town, conscious of both friendly and unfriendly eyes on them as they left. But since the brutal night-riding had begun, those unfriendly eyes had lost support. Men fighting men was one thing, but when men started killing women and kids, most people—no matter how strongly they felt about sheep or nesters—drew the line and backed off.
“Where do we start?” Sam asked, when they were out of town and alone on the road.
“What do you think about my idea?” Matt said.
“I think it’s as good as any. It’s farfetched, but the only way we’ll know for sure is to check it out.”
They rode for several miles, coming to a halt at a crossroads west of town.
Matt stuck out his hand and Sam took it. “Be careful, Sam.”
“The same to you, brother.”
Matt headed for Lightning range, Sam headed for a spot he’d picked out on Box H range. Both men rode cautiously, staying off the road and keeping to the timber whenever possible. They reached their pre-picked spots, stripped saddle and bridle from their horses, and with field glasses ready, began the long wait. They would, for the most part, keep a cold camp, only building a small fire in the mornings, for coffee. The fire would be in a pit, so the flames could not be seen; the wood would be dry and virtually smokeless.
The hours wore on slowly for the brothers. Through field glasses they watched hands at work, rounding up cattle and moving them to different pastures. They saw deer and an occasional bear foraging for food. They talked to themselves and to their horses to break the monotony. They ate hardtack and canned beans and watched and waited. They went to bed late and got up early, so they would not miss any sound or fail to spot any movement. But nothing suspicious came into view. Matt was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake; truthfully, both men hoped Matt’s theory was wrong.
On the second night out, both men heard gunfire coming from the south. Men riding hard and wearing long dusters came within a hundred yards of Sam’s location about an hour after the
shooting.
The night-riders had struck again.
They rode straight north, staying between the Box H and the Lightning ranches. Sam was not familiar with this area, but he’d been told by Jack Linwood that a heavily timbered area lay just north of his location, an area that could hide a small army for a long time . . . if they were careful.
Mid-morning of the third day, a lone rider rode east across Box H land. Sam watched the rider through long-lenses and smiled bitterly. At the same time, Matt was watching a lone rider lope across Lightning range. Both men quickly saddled their horses and broke camp, following their quarry. The brothers stayed well back and stopped often, being very careful not to alert those they followed.
The two riders disappeared into the timber that grew on each side of a creek. Matt and Sam circled the meeting place and joined up on a ridge above the creek.
“Good enough for you?” Matt asked.
“Unfortunately,” Sam replied, uncasing his binoculars. “I hate this.”
“No more than I do.” Matt uncased his field glasses and the brothers settled in, well-concealed and high above the secret meeting place of the mysterious R. and D.
The brothers watched the timber, occasionally catching a glimpse of the pair. Finally, it got embarrassing and the brothers put their binoculars aside and were content to just wait the pair out.
After an hour had passed, two men rode in from the north. The brothers picked up their binoculars and studied the pair.
“Red Raley,” Matt identified him. “I don’t know the guy with him.”
“Now we know who brought in the Raley gang,” Sam said. “But are they in it alone?”
Matt laid his field glasses aside and stretched out on the cool grass, a very serious expression on his face. “Sam? I think we have two factions working here. I don’t think one knows about the other.”
“You want to explain that?”
He did, and at length, while Sam studied the timber below them.
Sam sat still for a moment, mentally digesting Matt’s theory. After a time, he said, “I like it. It’s disgusting, but it works. Talk about a power play on one side, and deception on the other—this takes it.”
“Now that we know this much, what do we do with the information?”
“Are you familiar with the line about killing the messenger?”
“No. But I know what you mean. And you’re right. But we can’t just sit on it.”
“True.”
Matt sighed. “But I really don’t want to be the one who delivers the message . . . to either side.”
Sam said, “Let’s get out of here. This makes me want to puke.”
Fifteen
Jack’s boots left the desktop and hit the office floor. “Are you serious?”
“We both saw it,” Sam said.
But Dewey was the least surprised of them all. “Everybody thinks he’s such a nice fellow,” he said. “He never fooled me. He’s always had a sneaky way about him. That’s why we weren’t friends. And as far as she’s concerned . . . hell, she’s a trollop, through and through. So was her mother.”
“Was?” Matt asked.
“Oh, yeah. She ran off with the foreman years ago. No one knows where she is. Those two don’t surprise me; but what are Dale and Chrisman up to?”
“We don’t know,” Sam said.
“That’s just a guess on my part,” Matt added.
“Who can we trust?” Charlie asked.
Sam shook his head. “We can trust ourselves. But who tells Pete Harris about his son and Hugo Raner about his daughter?”
“Man, don’t look at me!” Jimmy Bryant said. “Pete’s an easy-goin’ fellow, but news of this . . . ?”
“If Red’s gang is camped very far north of where you boys were today,” Jack said, “that puts it in another county and out of my jurisdiction. And the sheriff up there is a damn crook. And that’s bein’ kind. But we got to do something about that outlaw camp. We can’t have no more night ridin’. They struck out last night. They hit a farmer who was waitin’ for them. Him and his two sons killed three and got lead in three or four others. That might put a damper on it for a time.”
Jimmy had gotten up for more coffee and was looking out the window. “Oh, Lord,” he muttered.
“What’s the matter?” Jack asked.
“Look yonder. Here comes Pete Harris and some of his hands.”
“Is Robert with them?” Sam asked.
Jimmy shook his head. “No.”
“I imagine he’s resting,” Matt said. “He and Denise had quite a to-do today.”
Jack laughed. “I’ve heard it called lots of things, but never that.”
“Pete’s headin’ this way,” Jimmy called. “And he’s walkin’ like a man with something on his mind.” Jimmy left the window and headed for the back. “I just remembered something I forgot to do.” He was gone out the back door, Dewey Vernon right behind him.
Sam leaned against the wall, Matt sat in a chair, Charlie leaned against a cell door, and Jack sat down behind his desk. Pete stepped in and closed the door behind him. He looked at Matt, then at Sam.
“Where you boys been? Millie’s about to wear out the front porch waitin’ on you two to show up.”
“We’ve been up in the timber for three days, along the ridges, waitin’ for your son to disprove a theory of mine,” Matt said.
“I . . . see,” the rancher said, walking to the coffeepot and pouring a cup. “And did he disprove your theory?”
“No, Pete, he didn’t.”
“Let me guess,” Pete said. “He met with Denise Raner, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did, Pete, among others.”
“I wish he had come to me. I wouldn’t have disapproved of them sparkin’ each other. I . . .” He paused in the lifting of coffee cup to mouth. “What did you say, Matt. Among others? What others?”
“I didn’t know one of the men. But the other one was Red Raley.”
“Red Raley! The outlaw gang leader?”
“Yeah. Sorry, Pete. There was no mistaking it. Sam was there. He saw it same as me.”
“Damn!” Pete swore. “I knew something was wrong; I started to tell you when you were out at the ranch one time. Just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something turned the boy wrong. I don’t know what it was. It wasn’t Denise, although I’m sure she didn’t help matters any. His mother hasn’t noticed the change, neither has Millie. At least, I don’t think so. Red Raley! You think my boy brought him in, Matt? Sam? Where would he get the money?”
“I don’t know, Pete—to both your questions. I’ll guess and say no, he didn’t. Like you, I don’t know where he’d get the money. How about Denise?”
“Oh, she has money of her own. Her mother saw to that before she run off with another man.”
“Enough to buy Raley and his gang?” Sam asked.
“No,” Pete replied. “But enough to pay a sniper.”
Glad that Pete had not blown sky-high, Jack relaxed some. “So how did Robert meet up with Raley, then?”
“Through Chrisman and Dale,” Matt said.
“How did you arrive at that, Matt?” Pete asked.
“Well, it’s just theory. But who else has the money to hire a whole gang but Dale or Chrisman? A lot of folks say Dale has nothing to gain. But that might not be the case. How heavily in debt are Vernon and Raner to the bank?”
“Yeah,” Pete said, after a moment. “That would do it. He’s loaned them both a lot of money. But they manage to stay even with him.” He frowned and shook his head. “No. No, that ain’t it, boys. It’s something else. Back when Hugo and me was at least speakin’, he told me that Dale used to come out to his place all the time and just ride all over the place. Always by himself. Never wanted anybody to go with him. Said Dale told him it was the prettiest place he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d even camp out in the hills; said it was his vacation.”
“How about Vernon’s place south of here?” Sam asked.
“No
, Dale never spent much time down there. Practically none at all. But say!” He snapped his fingers. “Back before the sheep came in and split this area up into factions, Chrisman used to prowl all over Vernon’s place. Blake finally had to run him off. Both those men, Dale and Chrisman are strange men.”
Matt met Sam’s eyes. “You take it, brother.”
“They’re not too strange,” Sam said. “Chrisman’s found silver on the Circle V and Dale’s found gold on the Lightning range. Bet on it.”
“So the two men, Chrisman and Dale, working together, concocted this plan to create a range war,” Jack mused aloud. “Then the sheep came in a few months back and that just made things better for them. But what part do Robert and Denise play in all this?”
“They found out and wanted in,” Charlie said.
“Sure,” Pete said. “That fits. I’ll buy that. Even though it hurts my mouth to say it about my own flesh and blood.” He sighed and said, “Robert and Denise hired that long-distance shooter to kill me. Then they came up with a better plan: use him to create fear in everybody and maybe we’d all kill each other.”
“You don’t know that, Pete,” Sam said. “Don’t torment yourself before you know all the facts.”
“It fits too well,” the rancher replied. “Robert has always been a good boy, but even as a child, he was sneaky. He’s always had a ready grin and a joke and would go out of his way to help people, but then afterward, he never let them forget it. He liked people to owe him.” He blew out air and set his coffee cup on the table. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t trust Robert; even with just suspicions, I can’t afford to trust him. If my son wants me dead, how can I sleep under the same roof with him?”
Pete leaned back and propped his boots up on the table. Matt tensed. On the right sole of Pete’s boot, there was a V-shaped cut. Just like the sign left by the sniper in the rocks.
* * *
“It doesn’t make sense,” Jack said.
“Nothing about this makes any sense,” Charlie said. “But I seen the cut on Pete’s boot, and it’s a match with the boots the sniper is wearin’.”
“It’s enough to arrest him on,” Jack reluctantly said. “But I don’t know if it’s enough for a conviction. Nobody around here would convict him. He’s too well-liked.”
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