the High Graders (1965)

by L'amour, Louis

  By the time Mike had mucked out the drift it wa s mid-afternoon. Right at the face it was easier, becaus e Burt Parry had gotten a sheet of boile r plate from someone and had placed it on the floo r of the drift before firing his shots and bringing down th e muck on top of the sheet. This was old practic e in the larger mines, but you found little of that sort o f thing in such prospect holes as Parry's.

  Mike lined up various lengths o f drill steel near the face; then he came out of th e drift and carried water up from the spring for a bath.

  While he washed he had water getting hot o n the stove, and when he had finished he made coffe e and a sandwich. He would have a good meal in town, bu t he knew from long experience that a man was foolis h to start out for anywhere without eating something ... to o many things could happen.

  And when he got to town he was going to se e Wilson Hoyt first thing.

  Chapter 5

  Wilson Hoyt sat behind his battere d roll-top desk, his feet propped up, readin g a newspaper. He looked up as Mik e Shevlin walked in, and acknowledged his presenc e with a brief nod and no show of pleasure.

  "You've got something on your mind," he sai d bluntly. "What is it?"

  "I'm going to blow the lid off, and I want yo u on my side."

  Hoyt picked up the stub of his cigar an d carefully ground it out before throwing it into th e cuspidor. He should have known this job was too goo d to last.

  Slowly and in detail, Mike Shevlin lai d out the situation as he saw it. Ray Hollister wa s in that part of the country, and he had the cattleme n solidly behind him. The water of the creeks was bein g polluted, and the cattle needed that water. They woul d attack, the cattlemen would, and that meant killin g and burning.

  Ben Stowe would fight back, but regardless o f who won, the town would lose. And, he added, Be n Stowe was robbing the mine owners.

  "They don't live in Rafter," Hoyt sai d cynically, "so it doesn't matter." He bi t the end from a fresh cigar. "How do you think it can b e stopped?"

  "Arrest Stowe. Arrest Mason and Gentry.

  Slap every man of them in jail, then go into the mine s and get enough high-grade for evidence."

  "What about Hollister?"

  "Forget him. Bring in the five top rancher s and put them under bond to keep the peace. Then le t Hollister stew in his own juice."

  "They're outside my jurisdiction."

  "Not if you want to act. Nobody reall y wants this trouble but Hollister. He's a sorehead."

  Hoyt chewed the cigar thoughtfully, then took hi s feet down from the desk. "Now you listen to me.

  Nobody asked me to stop high-grading. I wa s brought in to keep the peace, and I've kept it.

  Now you come in here and try to tell me m y business.

  "If Ray Hollister starts anything, I'l l kill him, and that goes for you as well. Ben Stow e won't start anything, because he needs peace an d quiet. If you try to blow the lid off this tow n you're likely to get killed. And even if yo u started something, you couldn't prove a thing.

  "Let me tell you something," Hoyt went on.

  "All the high-grade ore comes out of one are a between the two mines. At the first sign of trouble, th e drifts leading to the stopes where that high-grad e ore has been found will be blown up and sealed off.

  You couldn't prove a thing, and you'd just make a fool of yourself."

  Wilson Hoyt stood up. "Now you quit tha t two-bit job and get out of town. If you're stil l in town forty-eight hours from now, or if you so muc h as raise your voice, I'll come for you."

  Shevlin felt angry with frustration an d helplessness. This was the one man he needed, but i f Hoyt persisted in his stand nothing could preven t killing. How could he reach him?

  "You've heard my ultimatum," Hoyt said.

  "Get up in the saddle and start looking fo r distance."

  "If you remembered me, Hoyt, you wouldn't b e talking that way."

  Hoyt brushed the remark off with a gesture.

  "Oh, I know all about you! You fought in th e Nueces cattle war, you were a Texas Range r for two years and made quite a name for yourself. You ha d a name around Cimarron and Durango. I kno w all that, and I'm not impressed."

  Mike Shevlin tucked his thumbs behind his bel t and said quietly, "I was remembering one night i n Tascosa."

  Wilson Hoyt's hands became very still. Th e leonine head was bowed slightly, the muscles i n the powerful neck were rigid.

  "It was bright moonlight," Mike said, "and yo u were under the cottonwoods waiting for a man, so whe n a rider came in from the Canadian Rive r bottoms you were sure it was your man."

  Hoyt's face was bleak.

  "You stepped into the open, called out a name, an d reached for your gun. Do you remember that?"

  "I remember it."

  "You were slow, Wilson. We'll say it wa s an off night. Anyway, this rider had the dro p before your gun cleared leather, and when he spoke yo u knew you had braced the wrong man. Right so far?"

  "Yes."

  "There you stood looking into the muzzle of a gu n in the hands of an unknown man, a man with every chanc e and every right to shoot you where you stood. Then the ma n walked his horse away and left you standing there, an d you never knew who it was who beat you to the draw."

  "You could have heard the story."

  "I never told it."

  "Well, you beat me once. That doesn't say you can do it again."

  For years that faceless man had haunte d Wilson Hoyt--that man whose features had bee n hidden by the shadows of his hat as well as by th e trees. Now he knew.

  "What's your stake in this? I'll not deny I o we you something. You could have shot me, yet you hel d your fire."

  "Eli Patterson was my friend ... that starte d it. Since then, something else has happened.

  I've been hired to stop the high-grading an d recover the gold."

  Hoyt swore. "Hired? Why'd they pic k an outside man?"

  Shevlin smiled. "You were keeping the peace , remember? You were letting things be, as long a s everything was quiet."

  Hoyt thrust the cigar back between his teeth.

  "I don't know about this. I got to think about it.

  You keep your shirt on, d'you hear?"

  "Think fast then," Shevlin said. "I'm no t smart, Hoyt. I only know one way--I w alk right in swinging. By noon tomorrow I'm cuttin g my wolf loose, and if you're not with me you'd better hunt a hole."

  In the neat red brick house with the whit e shutters that was the home of Dr. Ruper t Clagg, late of Boston, they were havin g supper. The house itself, the neat green lawn, and th e white picket fence were all indications of Dr.

  Clagg's quality of mind. He was himself neat , orderly, efficient.

  Graduating at the top of his class fro m medical school, he could have stepped into a fin e practice in any city in the East, but the Wa r Between the States changed all that. After only a year in practice in Philadelphia, in th e office of the city's most reputable physician , he had gone into the Army. The rough and read y life, the men he met, conspired to remove an y latent desire to return to Philadelphia.

  Instead, he elected to go west.

  Dottie Clagg was one of three daughters i n one of Philadelphia's oldest and wealthies t families, but she possessed an adventurou s spirit, and despite all the protests their tw o families could offer, they went west.

  For a while Dr. Clagg had remained a n Army surgeon, attached to various posts i n New Mexico and Arizona. When he left th e service a distant cousin, Clagg Merriam , who was in business in Rafter, suggested that they com e there, and almost two years ago they had done so , prepared to settle down.

  At thirty-four Dr. Rupert Clagg wa s erect, tall, and handsome, bronzed as an y cowhand, and bearing an arrow scar on his cheekbone.

  His office was filled with frontier atmosphere , but his home remained a corner of the New Englan d where he had been born.

  He liked having people around, and had been please d when Laine Tennison arrived to be their hous
e guest. Laine and Dottie had attended schoo l together in Philadelphia, and Dottie had bee n thrilled when Laine had written, mentioning comin g west for her health.

  "Although I don't know why," Dottie ha d confided to her husband. "She was always the pictur e of health."

  "Maybe she just wants to get away."

  "A love affair!" Dottie was at onc e delighted and positive. "She's had a n unhappy love affair!"

  "Laine?" Clagg was skeptical.

  "Even a girl as beautiful as she is can b e disappointed," Dottie protested.

  Recognizing the fact that his wife could be a s excited over an unhappy love affair as a happy one, he did not argue the point.

  "I'm going to invite her for a visit,"

  Dottie had said. "You don't mind, do you?"

  "Mind? Laine? By all means invite her."

  She had arrived a few weeks late r and had proved an attentive listene r to Dottie's endless chatter about people and happening s around Rafter. Laine, it seemed, was interested i n all the trivia of life in a western mining town , and not the least bit bored.

  Dr. Clagg offered few comments unti l Laine suggested that riding in the open air might b e good for her health. Then he said, "By all means," a nd added, a shade wryly, "Just don't overd o it."

  On this evening, when Clagg Merriam was als o there for supper, Dr. Rupert glanced at Lain e across the table. "Your color is better," h e said. "You were riding today?"

  "Driving. I rented a buckboard from that nic e old man at the livery stable and drove out past th e Glory Hole."

  "That nice old man," the doctor sai d ironically, "is a disreputable old outlaw."

  "Really? He seems so sweet."

  "I saw a new man in town today," Dotti e said, "and a handsome devil, too. One of the big , rugged outdoor types. He was coming from th e sheriff's office."

  "Speaking of men," Dr. Clagg commente d casually, "Ben Stowe was asking about you. He noticed you driving around alone and wondered who yo u were. He was most interested."

  "You can't blame Ben," Clagg Merria m said. "After all, Miss Tennison is a ver y beautiful girl."

  "Why, thank you, Mr. Merriam." Lain e flashed him a quick smile. "But I am sure tha t wasn't the reason."

  "He asked if you were from San Francisco,"

  Dr. Rupert said. "but when I told him you were fro m Philadelphia he lost interest."

  "Oh? So he doesn't like Philadelphi a girls!" Dottie exclaimed. "You should hav e told him that Laine has an uncle in Sa n Francisco ... and a rich uncle, at that!"

  Clagg Merriam glanced thoughtfully a t Laine, but made no comment. Dr. Rupert, alway s an observant man, caught the expression o n Laine's face. It had stiffened at Dottie's comment, and in the instant that Merriam looked a t her, Laine shot Dottie a quick, protestin g look.

  Later, when the two men sat alone over brand y and cigars, Merriam commented, "Mis s Tennison seems the picture of health. I t hink," he added judiciously, "that they caugh t hers in time."

  "I wouldn't think it too safe for a girl to g o riding around alone in a place like this. After all , the mines brought in all sorts of riffraff."

  "She can look after herself, Clagg. And I b elieve the people here are quite stable. Remarkabl y stable, in fact. I also think most of them know sh e is my guest."

  Walking away from the house an hour or s o later, Clagg Merriam wondered whether Dr.

  Rupert's last comment had been a warning of som e kind.

  After he had left, Dr. Rupert sat in hi s big chair and lighted his pipe. Laine had aske d for no medical advice, but he was as sure as on e could be without a physical examination that there wa s nothing in the world wrong with Laine Tennison.

  Which left the question: What was she doing i n Rafter, of all places? A broken heart?

  Absurd. Laine was often thoughtful, but she neve r moped.

  Ben Stowe had been curious, even prying. An d Dottie's remark about an uncle in Sa n Francisco had stirred immediate interest i n Merriam. Only a fool would need to ask why.

  Rafter was motivated by only one idea, th e gold from the mines. And who owned the mines? Som e interests in San Francisco.

  Every day Laine rode out, or drove, and a s often as not she traveled the back trails. Was i t just out of curiosity, or for some other, more definit e reason?

  Ben Stowe seemed suspicious, and if, a s Dr. Rupert thought, she was connected with the ownershi p of the mines, then she could be in real trouble.

  Old Brazos at the livery stable was know n to Dr. Rupert. It was the doctor who ha d treated a badly infected leg wound when the ol d outlaw first rode into Rafter, and he had mentione d it to no one. He liked the hard-bitten ol d man, and was liked in return.

  Now, as he packed tobacco into his pipe , he thought that he must have a talk with Brazos, fo r little went on around town that the old hostler did no t know. And Laine Tennison was his guest, and must b e protected.

  The doctor had never accepted more than a fai r price for his medical attentions, and h e had always refused to be paid in gold. Hi s attitude in this was known, and he had never bee n bothered. Was that because he was respected? Because the y needed a good doctor in town? Or because he wa s Clagg Merriam's cousin? For Clag g Merriam was a man of some authority in Rafter.

  Of course, there was a simpler reason. Dr.

  Rupert was notoriously close-mouthed---e verybody in town knew it. But how much would tha t help if it was discovered that Laine Tennison ha d some connection with the Sun Strike?

  He considered that while he smoked his pipe out , carefully examining all aspects of the problem.

  At the end of the evening one thing was clear: From no w on, Laine Tennison was in danger.

  How many of the corrupted citizens of Rafte r had been corrupted enough to stand by if it came to doin g harm to a young girl? If it came to murder , even? Would they look the other way? How many woul d actually condone murder to protect what they had?

  He knocked out his pipe and walked across th e room to the rifle rack. Carefully, he checke d every weapon. And then he took his Army Colt , checked the loads, and tucked it behind his waistband.

  From this moment, Dr. Rupert Clagg would g o armed.

  Chapter 6

  When Mike Shevlin had walked out o f Wilson Hoyt's office several hour s earlier, he was jumpy as a cat that smell s snake.

  His every instinct warned him that time was running ou t both for himself and for Laine Tennison. The fact tha t she was Eli Patterson's niece had bought hi s loyalty as no offer of a share in the gold could hav e done; although, being a practical man, he was no t unaware of what ten per cent of perhaps half a million dollars could mean in cattle.

  He paused on a corner of the street, starin g about like a bull entering a bullring, searching fo r something at which to charge.

  He needed to find the gold cache, and to be abl e to prevent them removing it when panic set in.

  His instinct told him the proper thing was to bust righ t into the middle of things and start things happening. It wa s a good way to get hurt, but from experience h e knew that when a nest of crooks is disturbed the y are apt to move without planning, and s o make mistakes they might not otherwise make.

  It was for this reason that he had deliberatel y prodded Wilson Hoyt. Any move the marsha l might make at this time would help. Even if h e only started asking questions it might be enough.

  While Shevlin stood there, Ben Stow e suddenly appeared in the door of the Nevad a House, and Mike Shevlin started toward him , walking swiftly. Stowe turned at the sound of hi s heels, and Shevlin caught the hard, measurin g look. And suddenly Mike felt like old times.

  He knew that now the waiting was over and he was goin g into battle. He felt a wild surge o f eagerness within him that he had to fight down.

  Stowe was poised and ready for him. Mike sa w it even as Stowe spoke. "Hello, Mike.

  How about a drink for old times' sake?"

  "No time for drinking, Ben." Mike grinne d at him, d
aringly, challengingly. "I'm goin g to tear down your playhouse, Ben."

  Ben Stowe's expression did not change; h e simply said, "Mike, everybody would be happie r if you'd just ride on out of here." Ben reached in hi s pocket and took out a fat roll of bills.

  "Now, if you're short of cash--his"

  "Remember me? There were always a lot of thing s more important than money."

  "Eli Patterson is dead, Mike. If yo u start opening that up, a lot of people will get hurt."

  "That's what I had in mind."

  "You won't leave?"

  Ben Stowe was thinking about his plans for Shevlin.

  The trouble was, they might not work fast enough, s o he'd have to make other, faster plans.

  "Ben?" Mike spoke quietly, almos t gently, so that suddenly every sense in Stowe's bod y was alert. "Ben, why don't you leave?"

  Stowe was startled at the words. He stare d sharply, unbelievingly at Shevlin. "Me?

  Why should I leave?"

  "Think about it, Ben. You and me, we're no t exactly tenderfeet. We've both been through th e mill. I say, grab it and run. You've ha d everything your way, and you've got a lot stashe d away, so why not take it and get out? Believ e me, Ben, it's all over."

  Ben Stowe started to make an angry reply , then hesitated. Shevlin was keyed up, he coul d see that, and the last thing Stowe wanted was a gu n battle. And then he had a shockin g sense that Shevlin was right.

  He struck a match and took his time lighting hi s cigar. He was shocked at the sudden wave o f panic that had swept through him.

  Ben Stowe was realist enough to know that the doubt ha d been lingering there all the time, and Shevlin's word s had just exploded his feeling into desperation. In an y such deal as this there was always that feeling that it was to o good to last; and that feeling had been building large r and larger in all of them. Only a damned foo l could fail to be apprehensive. But Ben Stowe wa s a hard man; he fought down his panic.

  "You seem to be riding a rough saddle , Mike. What's your stake in all this?"

  "Give me the man who killed Eli."

  Stowe shot him a swift glance. "Eli?

  Mike, men have died before, and others have yet to die , so why get worked up over him?"