After the water was polluted, it had been necessar y to drive the cattle back from the stream where they ha d always watered, something it was not easy to do. The onl y other water was too far away for the good of the stock , and the grass there was poor. He could have use d Hollister's help then, for they were short-handed; s everal of the newer boys had gone off prospectin g ... as if they knew anything about finding gold!
With the hands that remained Babcock had pushed th e cattle back from the water with only a few lost , and there had been a time when he had been up to hi s ears in work far on the other side of the range.
Anyway, Babcock himself had never been much of a hand for raising hell in town.
Now, Babcock's mind had not let go o f Ray Hollister's comment on why Gentry ha d been set up that way. Of course, he thought, i t was something a man might guess at, or figur e out. He looked across the fire at Hollister , considering him thoughtfully, and remembering wha t Shevlin had said.
He was a man slow to arrive at an y conclusion, and he was taking great care in tryin g to think this matter out. But as he considered it, littl e bits and pieces of half-forgotten conversation s returned to mind.
"They've got to move it!"
Hollister exclaimed again suddenly. "The y daren't take a chance on running short of cash , or being caught with the gold." He looke d shrewdly at Babcock. "Bab, we could have a piece of money out of this."
"I'm no thief." Babcock spok e irritably, for he did not like to have his thinkin g interrupted. "That money ain't mine."
"It's not theirs, either," Hollister protested , and then added, more slyly, "Without that money thos e mines won't operate long."
That made a kind of sense, Babcoc k agreed. "It would be guarded," he suggested.
Hollister dismissed that with a wave of the hand. "Of course it would. But we'd have surprise on ou r side, and that counts for a lot." He paused.
"We'd need a couple of good men, aside from yo u and Wink and me.
"There's Halloran ... and John Sande."
Yes, they were good men. Ray Holliste r considered the route the gold would be likel y to take. Understanding the problem, as probabl y nobody else did quite so well, he knew th e gold must go east. On the west coast th e channels of finance were narrow, and there would be to o much chance of talk. California was filled wit h rumors upon rumors, everybody was agog fo r discoveries, and the slightest suggestion of gol d appearing from a new source would set off a rush.
Such an amount of gold as this might be more easil y handled if it could be shipped to the East.
One by one he went over the routes in his mind , and one by one he eliminated them until only tw o were left, and of these one was very doubtful.
Winkler rode in before midnight. He sa t down on a rock and listened to Hollister's plan. "All right," he said, "count on me.
... What about Halloran and Sande?"
"They'll go," Babcock said.
Suspicion was not a normal attitude fo r Babcock. He was a man who did his job , whatever it was, did it simply and directly , and with no nonsense, nor did he allow an y nonsense from anyone else.
The handling of cattle was not only his job, it wa s his vocation; it was the biggest part of his life, an d aside from the problems of cattle, nothing had eve r seemed important for any length of time. He wa s always concerned with range conditions, wate r supplies, noxious weeds, and the amoun t of beef that could be packed on a steer's frame.
From the hour of rising, usually before sunup , until dusk or after, he lived, breathed, an d thought cattle. If Babcock ever dreamed, it wa s only of greener pastures, clearer water, and a short drive to market. He had never taken tim e out to consider Ray Hollister as anything but a boss who permitted him freedom in the job h e knew best; but now the ugly thought was growing in hi m that Hollister might actually have been involved wit h Ben Stowe.
The arrival of Jess Winkler had interrupte d his thoughts. He had a sort of respect for th e wolfer, but had never liked him, for, as is often th e case, the hunter had taken on some of th e qualities of the creature he hunted. Winkle r could not approach anything--a strange camp, a house, a person, or an idea--without circlin g warily and sniffing the breeze from every angle. He was a man with the suspicions of a wolf. He ha d trapped, so he feared traps.
Winkler had held a rough affection for Ev e Bancroft, but he had considered her to o notional, too feminine. He did not trus t Hollister, and he also did not trust Babcock , nor anybody else he could think of at th e present time. He was a hard old man whos e rifle was an extension of himself.
It had not yet occurred to him that his stake in th e game had gone with the death of Eve Bancroft. Th e idea of taking gold away from the mining outfi t appealed to him, and gave direction to his days , at least for a little while.
Two days later, Halloran and Joh n Sande rode in, and as Babcock had promised , they were ready. Winkler would ride in to town to nos e about and see what he could discover. The others, afte r some discussion, decided upon a rendezvous a t Boulder Spring. It was close enough to Rafter, ha d good grass and water, and yet was out of the way.
All was quiet at Parry's claim cabi n when Mike Shevlin returned. But Parry wa s nowhere to be seen, nor was there any indication that h e had been around the place for hours. Mike wen t back into the mine tunnel, but no further work ha d been done there.
Suddenly feeling uneasy, he came bac k to the cabin. The canyon was utterly still ... u nnaturally so.
Seated on a bench outside the cabin door , Mike Shevlin cleaned and oiled his Winchester, an d then his pistols, working steadily, but with one of th e guns always at hand and in operating order.
Carefully, he sorted over in his mind all h e knew of Burt Parry, and it was very little.
Where did Burt Parry go when he left th e claim. Shevlin wondered. The question had been a t the back of his mind, but now for the first time he brough t it out into the open to consider.
He certainly had not gone to town, though he ha d ridden in that direction. Aside from the fact that h e had disclaimed any interest in the difficultie s of the people around Rafter, and had even disclaimed an y interest in the gold or the high-grading, he ha d said very little. However, one thing stuck in Shevlin's mind. The first time he had seen Parry in th e caf@e, he had been in conversation with Clag g Merriam.
That in itself need not mean anything at all.
Parry seemed a man of some education, appeare d to be of eastern background, and he might have som e things in common with Merriam.
Shevlin glanced up the canyon now, his eye s resting on the dump at the mouth of the old tunne l -comthe discovery claim, Parry had said.
Coming back to his mind was Hoyt's comment that th e high-grade lay between the two mines, and that at th e first hint of discovery the approach tunnels would b e blasted shut. Those explosives should be found an d removed, but that was not up to him. First, he must fin d the cache of gold bullion.
Feeling restless, he wandered back into Parry's tunnel, considering the idea of drilling a round o f holes. He scanned the walls, and realized for th e first time that the rock showed no evidence of minerals , no quartz, nothing at all but ordinary rock.
Returning to the outside, he backed off to th e edge of the bench and studied the slope above the mine.
He saw no promising outcropping, nor an y sign of work; yet Parry's ore was suppose d to have been located by a find somewhere on that slope.
Suppose there was no ore there? Suppose thi s operation, this mining claim of Parry's, was a fake, a blind, just a useful cover for some othe r operation? What, then, would it be? A n investigator of some kind? It was possible. Or ... suppose Parry was put here to watch something?
Suppose during those mysterious absences he wa s keeping guard over something?
Mike Shevlin sat down on the bench and li t a cigar. Suppose, then ... suppose just for th e sake of argument that Burt Parry was guarding th e gold itself. Was he guarding it for the combin
e? Or fo r one of them against the others?
Stifling his excitement, Shevlin bega n to consider this new possibility. Actually, it wa s of no importance to him just why Parry was watching th e gold, if that was what he was doing. What wa s important was the obvious fact that if he wa s watching the gold it must be close by. The minin g claim must have been located just where it was for a reason.
Parry always went down the canyon, but did h e continue in that direction? Or did he retur n under cover of the brush in the canyon bottom?
Shevlin had once seen him standing on the dum p at the mouth of the old discovery tunnel.
The old discovery tunnel! He got up , his mouth suddenly dry. Suppose ...?
He turned away sharply, and picked up hi s rifle. No use saddling his horse. Th e tunnel was only a few minutes walk up th e canyon.
He had not reached the spring when he heard a clatter of horse's hoofs on the trail fro m Rafter. He hesitated, swore softly, the n turned around, and retraced his steps.
As he got to the cabin, the rider came into th e open area on the bench. It was Red ... the miner wit h whom he had had trouble the day he arrived i n Rafter.
"Get your horse," Red said abruptly.
"Ben Stowe wants to see you!"
Mike Shevlin looked at him calmly, the n took the stub of the extinguished cigar from his pocke t and put it between his teeth. He struck a match wit h his left hand and lifted it to light the cigar.
"If Ben Stowe wants to see me, he know s where to find me."
Red looked surprised. "You want m e to tell him that?"
"You tell him whatever you've a mind to."
Red stared at him. "I got a damn' goo d notion to take you in," he said.
"All right," Shevlin replied, "go ahead.
You take me!"
Chapter 14
Red hesitated a moment, then backed down.
"The hell with it! If you don't want to come , that's your hard luck. I'll tell Ben."
He wheeled his horse and started away , muttering to himself. From the top of a rise in the narro w trail he glanced back. Mike Shevlin wa s gone. "Now where the devil--his"
Red drew rein and turned in his saddle. Wher e could Shevlin have gone so suddenly? As far as tha t went, where had he been coming from when he rode up?
He had acted surprised, and he had seeme d hurried.
Red pulled his horse over against the roc k wall where they would be less visible, and he watche d the canyon for some time. Then he saw a figur e appear on the dump of the old discovery claim.
It was Mike Shevlin, and he vanished into th e tunnel.
When several minutes passed and he did no t emerge, Red swung his horse and cantered of f toward town.
All was quiet when he rode up the street.
Hoyt was standing in front of his office, and Do c Clagg was walking along with his sister and tha t Tennison girl who was visiting them.
The door of Ben Stowe's office was locked , so Red went across to the Nevada House, where h e found Stowe eating.
"He wouldn't come," Red said. "He said if yo u wanted to see him, you knew where he was."
Surprisingly enough, Ben Stowe did not see m angered at that. "All right," he said mildly.
"I'll ride out that way."
"You won't find him," Red said. "He's prowling around up the canyon. I saw him goin g into the old discovery tunnel."
Ben Stowe's features stiffened, and the hand tha t held the fork gripped hard. But when he spoke , his voice was casual.
"How long ago was that?"
"Long as it took me to ride in. I cam e right along."
"Thanks, Red. You hang around town, d'yo u hear? I might need you."
When Red had gone, Ben Stowe put his for k down slowly. His appetite was gone completely.
He had been a fool to allow Shevlin to go to wor k up there, but Clagg Merriam had said there wa s nothing to worry about. Working for Bur t Parry would keep him out of trouble, and nobody eve r saw anything that was right under their nose, anyway.
It had seemed a good idea at the time. Mayb e it was still a good idea.
He had planned to offer Shevlin the plac e Gentry had held; now he was not so sure. It wa s unlikely that Shevlin would find anything; and i f he did, they might still make a deal. But why wa s Shevlin nosing around? What was he looking for? An d where was Burt Parry?
It would not do to move hastily, and above all , Red's suspicions must not be aroused. Of course, he had told Red he would ride out an d talk to Shevlin, and so he would. There are some thing s a man had better do himself.
He forced himself to eat a little more, and to take hi s time over another cup of coffee.
What he did within the next few hours coul d mean the difference between success and failure, betwee n wealth and poverty, even between life and death.
For the first time in his life he felt haunte d by uncertainties. His life until this minute ha d been relatively simple, but within a matter o f days, hours even, the certainties had vanished.
With Gib Gentry's death, the keystone of hi s plan was gone. He had come to despise Gentry , but the man had been essential to their plan, with th e freighting company carefully set up for th e purpose. His death, through Lon Court's mistake, left a gaping hole in the carefull y planned structure.
And that girl at Doc Clagg's--whicho was she?
What was she?
Irritation mounted within him, an irritation that wa s born of panic, a panic he stifled. There wa s no reason to get stirred up. First, he must fin d Mike Shevlin, find out how much he knew, an d whether or not he would go along with Ben Stowe.
Thinking of Shevlin's suggestion that Stowe rid e out of town to see him, he swore bitterly , hating the idea of approaching Shevlin with a proposition. Unfortunately, he knew o f nobody else who might get that gold safel y to its destination, nobody at all.
He had an uneasy feeling that things were gettin g out of hand, yet, despite the unfortunate killin g of Eve Bancroft, nothing really seemed amis s that couldn't be taken care of.
Ray Hollister was out of it ... he wa s finished. Ben Stowe should have been please d about that, but Hollister had been a gathering point fo r his enemies. As long as Hollister was around , Stowe had always known where the cattlemen would be.
He went now to the livery stable, strollin g casually along the street. He wanted his manne r to be remembered: he was a man going for a littl e ride after lunch, something he had done occasionall y over the years. That he was going to win an ally o r kill a man before the day was over was something nobod y must guess.
Brazos was not at the stable. Ben Stowe ha d grown accustomed to service, and he disliked saddlin g his own horse. Irritably, he saddled up , led the horse outside, and stepped into the saddle.
Where was that damned hostler, anyway?
At that very moment Brazos was seated in th e kitchen of Dr. Clagg's home with a shotgu n across his knees, and close at hand, a Wincheste r .44. He had been recruited by Clagg as a guard for Laine Tennison.
In Clagg's office several patients ha d arrived for consultation. Billy Townsend, owne r of the Blue Horn Saloon, James Marti n Field, editor and publisher of the Rafte r Blade, and Tom Hayes, who operated a general store, were all there. There were severa l others, chosen with care.
Clagg was speaking to them.
"We will waste no time arguing about the past.
What remains is to see what possibilitie s are open to us now. If any of you have any doubt s as to the purpose of our meeting, it is just this: t o consider the state of affairs in Rafter as of thi s minute.
"A young woman, a well-known and generall y respected owner of a ranch, has been shot dow n on the streets of Rafter. Gib Gentry, a businessman of this town, has been murdered jus t outside it. A notorious killer, imported fo r what reason we do not know, has been slain in th e hills nearby. These killings have all happened i n the last few days."
Hayes shifted uncomfortably, and swea t began to bead his
forehead.
"We have a marshal with an excellen t reputation," Dr. Clagg went on, "but he i s also a marshal who is willing to go along with what th e townspeople accept, and within those limits , to keep the peace. That has been the customar y practice in most western communities.
It remains to be seen whether that is sufficien t here."
The outer door opened and closed, then the doo r to the inner office opened, and Laine Tenniso n stood there. "Rupert," she said abruptly, "I b elieve this meeting concerns me. I wish to joi n it."
"I was expecting you," Clagg said. "I t old Dottie to let you know what was happening.
Will you sit down?"
Tom Hayes started to get up, then sat dow n again. "Now look, Doc," he protested, "I a in't sure I want to get mixed up in this.
Things have been going along pretty good, and--wa s "Hold your horses, Tom," Bill y Townsend said easily. "You just set still and liste n to what the Doc has to say. He looks to me lik e a man with ideas."
Hayes glanced around uneasily, but sa t back in his chair. "What about her?" h e grumbled. "What's that girl doin' in here?"
Laine turned on him coolly. "I am her e because I have a bigger stake in this than any of you.
I own the mines--butoth of them."
All eyes turned toward her and she colore d a little, her chin lifting.
"That's right, gentlemen," Clagg said.
"Miss Tennison has another distinction. Sh e is the niece of Eli Patterson, the man whos e murder started all this."
Hayes started at the word "murder," then h e relaxed.
"We are here to make a decision," Clag g said. "Do we wish to continue to live upon th e proceeds of crime and murder, to rear ou r families in an atmosphere of the acceptance o f crime, getting in deeper and deeper each day; o r are we going to make a break with the past an d demand that this town be cleaned up?"
Billy Townsend crossed one knee over th e other, and said, "If we start cleaning up this town , a lot of people are going to get hurt."
Laine Tennison spoke up sharply.
"Gentlemen, let me tell you this: somebody i s going to get hurt anyway. My attorneys hav e drafted a letter to the governor--I believe h e is Jack Moorman's son-in-law--asking tha t a special officer be appointed to bring law an d order to Rafter. I have requested a complet e investigation."
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