"That there Ben--I never knew he had it i n him. He worked almighty fast, and you never sa w things handled like that."
Mason's confidence was returning. "Mike , what's going to happen? You say Hollister's back and about to blow things up? Well, who take s over when the shooting's finished?"
He started to get up. "Mike, why not you an d me? I know how these things work, and--wa s Shevlin looked at him coldly. "How much d o you know? You haven't told me anything yet."
He paused. "Where's the gold?"
Mason glanced at him slyly. "Now, there's a good question. Where is the gold? There hasn't been an ounce leave this town, you can bank o n that."
Mike Shevlin was listening beyond the house, hi s ears attuned to street movement. Was tonight th e night?
"If you know anything, talk." Shevlin spok e shortly. He was wasting his time here. Hell migh t break loose at any moment.
"How about our deal?" Mason persisted. "Ho w about--wa s "No deal. You talk now, or by God , I'll--wa s He grabbed Mason by the shirt front an d jerked him to his feet. Then he shoved him agains t the wall near the door with force enough to shake th e house. He started for him, and Mason threw u p both hands.
"Don't hit me, for God's sake , Mike!"
"Then talk!"
"All I know is that part of it wasn't se t up by Ben. It was set up by Evans."
"Evans?"
Shevlin was startled. Evans was the shyste r lawyer with whom Ray Hollister had been a partner.
Evans?
He suddenly realized several things, all a t once. But there was a question to be answered. "Where i s Evans?" he asked. "What happened to him?"
Mason chuckled. "Now there is a question.
What did happen to him? Seems that about the tim e they ran Ray out of town, Evans went too.
Or so they say. Nobody saw him go, an d Evans wasn't the type to run."
There was no use wasting any more time here. Mik e Shevlin turned toward the door. "Mason , take my advice and get out of town. You're o n short time here--you delay a little bit and you'll b e caught right in the middle of it."
Shevlin went out and closed the door behind him.
The town was dark, and it was silent, but the silenc e was that of waiting. It was a silence that seeme d poised on the brink of evil.
Shevlin went to his horse and gathered th e reins. Yet he hesitated, taking stock of th e situation. There was Dr. Clagg--he would sta y home this night to protect his home and to protec t Laine, and he was a good man, a solid man.
...
Wilson Hoyt? There was no telling about him.
But Ben Stowe would be about, and Gentry, and Ra y Hollister.
His thoughts kept returning to Evans. He ha d known the shyster, as had everyone in Rafter. It wa s well known that he had a hand in all manner o f underhanded things, and he was supposed to have been engage d in smuggling. That didn't make a lot of sense , this far from any border, but it was the gossip.
Mason said that Evans had arranged the hidin g place for the gold ... did Mason know that, o r was he merely guessing?
Shevlin, his pistol easy in its holster , looked toward the livery stable. He liked that stabl e -coma man could go a lot of directions under cove r from there.
He walked down to the street and went across it , taking his own, unhurried time, but his scal p prickled with every step.
The chair beside the stable door was gone, but as h e passed under the light and went into the stable, Brazo s said, "Shevlin, you sure give a man th e willies. You could get yourself killed thataway."
"Maybe."
"Reminds me of a time down Texas way, th e night the lid blew off on th e Sutton-Taylor feud."
A little wind blew down the street fluttering a bit of white paper. A sign creaked rustily , and in one of the stalls a horse stamped and blew.
Standing in the darkness, just inside the door , Shevlin caught a faint glimmer of ligh t reflected from steel, steel that moved and rattle d very faintly. A rider sat his horse in the ga p between the buildings.
Swiftly, his eyes went up the street , measuring off the gaps. There could be eight or nin e riders waiting there.
Brazos had seen what he had seen, and h e spoke quickly. "No miners in town tonight, Mike.
Nary a one."
Shevlin absorbed that. Of course. Ben Stow e would hold them, armed and in readiness. There was n o longer a light in Stowe's office, nor in th e jail office. The only light was the lanter n burning over the door.
Mike Shevlin knew enough of Ben Stowe to kno w he would try to win with one strike, one decisiv e blow that would cripple the attacking force beyon d recovery. He would want a massacre.
It would end the opposition to him, and it would als o keep any stories from leaving the town. Prolonge d fighting would attract attention; but a quick, shar p fight--one that was soon over--could be brushed off i n the local papers as trouble with rustlers o r thieves.
Yet there were men on those horses who had onc e ridden beside Shevlin, good men, honest men, eve n though they were wrong-headed in this case. He ha d to stop them.
Ray Hollister would strike at Stowe's office for the records, and at the mine s themselves--first the Sun Strike, then the Glor y Hole. And Stowe would be waiting, his men armed , no doubt, with shotguns, and hidden all around th e collar of the shaft up there, around the mine office , the hoisthouse, and the blacksmith shop. They would b e hidden, with protection, and they would be shooting a t mounted men outlined against the faint light.
"I'm going across the street," Shevlin said.
"You'll get yourself killed."
"Only," a voice said behind them, "if h e tries to leave this stable." It was Babcock.
"Babcock," said Mike, "if you've go t any regard for your friends, you'd best get over ther e and stop them. Stowe's ready for them."
"You mean he . Was ready," Babcock said.
"This time we caught him off guard."
"Have you seen any miners around, Babcock?
If I was Ray Hollister I'd start lookin g at my hole card."
"Ray'll take care of himself."
"You bet he will. But where does that leave th e rest of you? You've pulled Ray out of more than on e mess his fool ideas got you into, so you'd better move fast. If you start up to the mine s they'll cut you to doll rags."
"I don't reckon."
Down the street there was a faint shuffle o f movement, and Shevlin knew the sound, for he ha d often heard it at night out on a cattl e drive, or when he was bedded near the remuda.
Men on horses were moving about.
"You'd better stop them," he said again.
Babcock shifted his feet. "Ease up , now. Nothing and nobody is going to stop Ray thi s time. You're out of this, Shevlin, so keep out."
"For God's sake, man! Do you really thin k Ray Hollister is doing this for the cattlemen?
Who do you think brought Ben Stowe in in the firs t place?"
"He brought himself."
"Babcock, don't let loyalt y to Hollister kill your friends. You've always bee n loyal to him, but Ray never thought of anybody bu t himself. It was the firm of Hollister and Evan s who brought Ben Stowe in to head the gunmen who fough t the cattle outfits."
"That's a damned lie!" Babcock sai d hoarsely. "Now you shut your mouth!"
"I don't lie, and you know it. Holliste r brought Gentry in, too, along wit h Ben. You're here tonight, Babcock, to pull th e chestnuts out of the fire for Ray. He hope s to get rid of Stowe and get back in the saddl e himself."
Babcock's face was set in stubborn lines.
There was no arguing with the man, and in not many minute s it would be too late; but Mike Shevlin kne w better than to make a wrong move agains t Babcock now. The cowhand was tough and seasoned, an d wily as an old wolf. And that reminded Shevli n of Winkler. Where was the old wolfer, anyway?
The livery stable was dark and still. It was almost a s if all were serene. There was the smell of hay an d manure,
the pleasant smell of horses and a horse barn. The light of the lantern glowe d feebly above the door.
It was past two o'clock in the morning; mayb e almost three. A good two hours remained befor e daylight, ample time for whatever mischief was to b e done under cover of darkness.
Now in the spaces between the buildings riders coul d be made out, three abreast in the first opening, tw o in the next. Others, judging by the sound, were walkin g their horses slowly up the street.
"Babcock," Shevlin said, "you're sitting i n on a wake. Out there in that dusty street you'l l see the end of the cattle business in Rafter.
You're a stubborn man, and you've been loya l for a long time to a shadow; but stop and think, man.
"You were at Rock Springs the night I w hipped Ray. You know Ray never saw the time whe n he could stand with the big cattlemen in the old days , but he's got Eve Bancroft convinced now that h e was a big man. Babcock, be honest ... di d you ever know anybody who was afraid of Ra y Hollister?"
"That don't cut no ice."
"You two worked together for a long time," Mik e went on, looking hard at Babcock, "but i f you'd admit it to yourself, you were the one who built tha t outfit of his while Ray played the big man.
You did the work, managed the place, hired an d fired most of the time."
Babcock made no reply. Shevlin looke d along the street again. It was not over two hundre d yards from here to the mine buildings, but from the moment th e men passed the livery stable they would be in at leas t partial light for the rest of the distance. Anyone wh o passed this point in full view was a dead man.
"Bab, is Joe Holiday out there?"
"What if he is?"
"I recall a time when Joe pulled a crazy steer off you ... saved your bacon. Yo u going to let Joe get killed?"
Babcock shifted his feet.
"Bab, you're a good Injun when it come s to scouting. There was a time you'd never have walked into t h with your eyes shut. You'd have scouted the lay-out befor e you made a move."
Shevlin was sure he had Babcock worried , and he pressed the advantage. "Bab, you ca n make fifty dollars mighty easy. I'v e got it here, and I'll lay it two to one you'l l find fifty, maybe a hundred armed men up a t the head of that street."
"You're bluffin'."
"Call me."
Brazos spoke for the first time. "You call him , Babcock, and I'll lay you another fifty yo u made you a bad bet. They're up there al l right."
"Hell," Babcock said, "I couldn't sto p them! Ray's got 'em itching for it. The way the y feel they'd charge hell with a bucket of water."
The riders were coming on now, a solid rank o f them, wall to wall on the street, walking thei r horses. And as they drew nearer, the ride r waiting between the buildings started to move out to joi n them.
"Look!" exclaimed Brazos.
The silent cavalcade had stoppe d abruptly, almost opposite the livery stable.
A blocky, powerful figure had stepped from th e restaurant, a toothpick between his teeth. He stood now in the center of the street--dark, silent , but somehow indomitable.
It was Wilson Hoyt.
Chapter 10
Hoyt wore two six-shooters, and a third wa s thrust into his waistband. In his hands was a Col t revolving shotgun.
He said not a word. He just stood there, lettin g them see him, letting them count the odds for themselves.
Every man there knew they could ride him down: the questio n was, who was to die in the process? How man y shots could he get off before he went down?
The range was point-blank, and just enough to get a fair spread on his shot; they would be slugs , heavy enough to kill a man. If he could get of f two shots he could empty three to six saddle s at that range; and he might get out of the way an d keep shooting.
Mike Shevlin, watching from the darkness, kne w how they felt. Of the forty or so men out there, onl y two or three might die, but which ones?
Wilson Hoyt spoke suddenly, quietly , and he showed his shrewdness in not even glancing towar d Ray Hollister. Hollister was the sort that woul d feel he had to prove himself, no matter who go t killed; so Hoyt deliberately threw th e responsibility to another.
"Walt Kelly," he said, "you turn thi s outfit around and ride back where you came from."
"Get out of the way, Hoyt!"
"Don't be a damn' fool, Walt,"
Hoyt replied in a reasonable tone. "You know thi s is my job. Did you ever hear of me quittin g on the job?"
Mike Shevlin stepped out from the stable. "Bac k up, boys. That crowd up the street are waitin g there in the dark, just praying for you to ride up."
Eyes had turned toward him. Some of them wer e hard, hating eyes, some questioning, some even hopeful.
In any such crowd there are always a few who do no t want the thing to happen, who are wishing for something , anything, to stop it before it goes too far. Thes e found their hope in Hoyt, and now in Shevlin's backing of Hoyt.
But Ray Hollister had been ignored to o long. "He's a damn' liar!" he yelled.
"There's nobody up there! Come on, let's go!"
There was a noticeable surge in the crowd, an d Hoyt's shotgun lifted. "If any of yo u boys are friendly to Walt Kelly," he said , "you'd better tell him goodbye ... an d there's a couple more had better say it for themselves."
Hoyt had made his mistake. As a crowd , they could hold back and acquire no blame, bu t now he had named an individual, and one of the bes t among them. Walt Kelly could not hold bac k now.
"Damn you, Hoyt!" he said. "Get out of th e way. I'm riding!"
"What about Arch, Walt?" Shevlin's voic e carried easily.
All his life Walt Kelly had been father a s well as big brother to Archer Kelly. And it wa s Arch's name that made him hesitate now.
At that instant a rider thrust forward from th e crowd. It was Eve Bancroft, and her face wa s white with fury. "You yellow-livered coyotes!"
Her voice was hoarse with anger. "Come on , Ray! We'll show 'em!"
She slapped the spurs to her horse and h e leaped forward. Hoyt sprang to grab he r bridle, but she was past him and charging up th e street.
Ray Hollister made one lunge to follow , then pulled up.
Eve Bancroft, her gun blazing, went u p the street, and the waiting miners could not see she was a woman. She rode full-tilt into a rippin g wall of lead that struck her from the saddle, tearin g with hot metal claws at her flesh. Sh e half-turned before she fell clear, and the scream tha t tore from her throat, a scream of agony an d despair, echoed in the street.
From the darkness where the miners lay, a voic e called out in horror. "It's a woman! My God, we've killed a woman!"
The eyes of the cattlemen looked at the stil l figure lying in the street a hundred yard s away. And then as one man they looked at Ra y Hollister.
Every man of them knew that Eve Bancroft ha d ridden up the street because she believed i n Hollister, and she had invited him to ride with her.
He sat his horse, staring at her body as i f he couldn't believe it, scarcely aware as th e riders one by one turned and rode away. He ha d brought her to this, and in the moment of need, he ha d failed her. He had let her ride alone.
Hoyt moved suddenly. "Hollister, get ou t of here. If I ever see you again I'll shoot yo u like a mad dog. I'll kill you where yo u stand."
People, mysteriously absent until now, bega n to appear on the street. Two of the women wen t to Eve's body. Nobody needed to ask if sh e was dead, for no one could have ridden into t burst o f fire and survived.
Shevlin moved up beside Hoyt. "I trie d to stop her!" Hoyt said. "Damn it, I t ried!"
"Nobody could have stopped her then," Shevli n said. "Nobody but Ray."
People were gathering in clusters on the street , talking. Ben Stowe was nowhere in sight.
"He didn't do a damn' thing," Hoyt said.
"He just sat there and watched her go."
"He started," somebody said. "He started, an d then he quit ... he quit cold
."
Mike Shevlin turned away, but Hoy t stopped him. "Do you think this will end it?"
"Has anything changed?" Shevlin asked. "A g irl's dead that should be alive, but the situation's the same. Hoyt, you take it from me. Throw Be n Stowe in jail. Then call a meeting of half a dozen of your best citizens and get this thing cleane d up."
Hoyt hesitated, staring gloomily before him.
"Arrest Ben Stowe? He hired me."
"Hired you to do a job."
Shevlin walked off. He was going back to th e claim. Tomorrow was another day, and he had a jo b to do; and what better place to do some thinking tha n there with a shovel in his hands?
Suddenly he thought of Burt Parry. Where wa s he? He had left the claim for town, bu t Shevlin had seen nothing of him ... and the town was no t that big, not unless he had a girl and was staying wit h her.
But Shevlin realized that he himself wanted no mor e of the town, or its people. He had not liked Ev e Bancroft, but she had been young and alive, and sh e had believed in her chosen man. To waste such a faith ... that was the sad thing, and he had n o stomach for what had happened.
All he wanted now was to ride away to where th e mountains reached for the sky, where the pines brushed a t the clouds. He paused by the stable, and his thoughts wer e gloomy. He was an old lobo who ran th e hills alone, and he had best get used to th e idea. There was no use looking into the eyes o f any girl. He was the sort who woul d wind up in the dead end of a canyon, snarling an d snapping at his own wounds because of the weakness the y brought.
There was nothing here he wanted, nothing but for tha t old man up on the hillside to rest easy, no t buried as a man who died in a gunfight, but a s one shot down with empty, innocent hands. For ol d Eli had never been a man of violence, just a s Mike himself was his opposite, a man who walke d hard-shouldered at the world.
He got the black horse from the stable and rod e him out of town. He avoided the trails, scoutin g wide upon the grassy hills, and riding th e slopes away from the tracks left by horses an d men.
the High Graders (1965) Page 9