"Mike," she was saying, "how are you goin g to manage it?"
"I'm going out with them. I'm going to take tha t gold out, and somehow or other I've got to sta y alive and keep that gold for you. Right now everythin g hinges on it."
"Mike, I'm afraid."
"You just wait here. I'll be back. If Be n Stowe doesn't have that gold, he doesn't hav e anything. He can't buy the mine, he can't pa y off his men; everything will fall apart for him and fo r Clagg Merriam too. Merriam's mortgage d everything to put up the money to buy the gold."
"They will fight."
"Yes, I think so."
"Then be careful. You'll be all alone , Mike."
He looked at her and smiled, a littl e wistfully. "When haven't I been alone?" h e said.
"Wasn't there ever anybody, anybody a t all?"
"No ... not really. Maybe that was why I k ept moving. It's easier to be alone if yo u keep moving, because it seems natural not to know peopl e or be close to anybody in strange country."
"Mike," she pleaded, "please don't go.
Let's just ride away from here. We can go to th e capitol and talk to the governor, then let hi m investigate."
"Laine, by that time they'd have your gold out of her e and everything covered up. You might get Ben Stow e out of his job and take the mines back, but you can b e sure he'd dynamite the approaches to th e high-grade, so that you might spend all you have, jus t looking for it--at least he'd try."
Mike Shevlin hesitated, and then he said , "Laine, I came here to find out the truth abou t Eli Patterson, to clear his name, and to put th e man who killed him where he should be--i n prison."
"You'd not kill him?"
"Not unless he pushed it on me. The law i s coming to this country, and the sooner the better. Men can't live without law, and each of us should do his par t to help the men who enforce it. After all, they ar e our servants, and without them we'd liv e in anarchy. Take it from me, because I've seen i t both ways."
At the door he paused. "Keep that gu n close by, and don't answer the door i f anybody knocks."
He went out, and the door closed behind him. He was gone from the hall before she realized she ha d forgotten to bring her gun with her.
She propped a chair under the doorknob, the n she sat down on the bed, and took off her shoes.
She must make no noise. It would not do to hav e anyone wondering who was in Mike Shevlin's room after he had gone out.
It was no use to worry about Dotti e Clagg, either. Dottie would be frightened, an d worried sick, but if Laine went back to th e doctor's house she would only bring more trouble wit h her. She must trust in Shevlin, and wait.
She considered Shevlin. Although almost nothin g personal had passed between them, a feeling existe d that needed no words. From the first, she had bee n drawn to him. Lean and savage as he was, ther e was an odd gentleness in him, too, and a curiou s respect for her.
She tried to recall everything Uncle El i had said about him, and thinking of this, she lay bac k on the bed. She did not see the knob tur n slowly, did not hear the slight creak a s pressure was put on the door to open it.
The chair under the knob remained firm, and th e person outside the door ceased trying. Had sh e been awake, she might have heard his breathing , might have heard the soft creak of the floor board s as he retreated down the hall. But she was fas t asleep.
Chapter 18
Rafter Crossing crouched in the darkness like a waiting cat. And like a waiting cat, its eye s missed nothing--or almost nothing. Mike Shevlin , refreshed after only three hours of sleep , walked toward the lighted window of Ben Stowe's office. Around him there was a rustle of movement i n the night--notothing a man could actually hear if h e stopped to listen, but something of which he would be keenl y aware.
Ben Stowe looked up when the door opened, an d his eyes became wary when he recognized Mik e Shevlin.
Mike leaned his big fists on the table.
"Ben," he said, "I'll move your gold if yo u have it ready before daybreak."
Stowe rolled his cigar in his mouth while h e took a minute to consider what this might mean.
What had happened to settle Shevlin's mind s o quickly? Could he have heard of the seizure of Do c Clagg and his party? That was unlikely because, a s Stowe happened to know, Shevlin had gone to hi s hotel and had not left it until now.
"Look at it this way, Ben," Mik e continued. "If Hollister is still around, he will hav e spies in town. I've a hunch they won't suspect me, but if we start now we can ge t into safe country before Hollister can get word an d start moving."
"That's likely," Ben agreed. He sa t back in his chair and looked up at Shevlin.
"Have you got any men you want to take along?"
"No, that's your play. I'll ramrod th e job, you furnish the men. Let's face it , Ben. With Gentry gone, I don't have a friend i n the country. I'll take my cut from this deal an d ride out."
"All right, Mike. You be at the mouth o f Parry's canyon an hour from now. The gold wil l be there."
"I'll want pack mules--thirty or fort y of them. That much gold, at present prices, wil l weigh a ton."
"Any special reason for mules rather than a wagon?"
"They'll be looking for a wagon, and I ca n take mules where no wagon could go." Shevli n lowered his voice. "I'm going over the ridge , Ben."
"You're crazy! There's no trail."
"Ben, I punched cows all over this country , much more than you ever did, and I know a trail tha t even Ray Hollister won't know."
"All right."
Ben pushed back his chair and stood up.
"Don't try anything, Mike. I need you, bu t I don't trust you. You go along with me, an d you'll be in at the payoff. But try a double-cross, and you won't live twenty-fou r hours."
"Don't be foolish, Ben. Where else coul d I get that kind of money?"
Shevlin walked to the door, the n turned. "By the way, Ben, who is Bur t Parry? Is he your man?"
"Parry? Just an eastern pilgrim who think s he knows mining." Suddenly Ben Stowe read somethin g else into the question. "Why do you ask?"
"Just wondered, that's all. That claim where h e had me working ... there isn't a sign of minera l over there, and I don't think there ever was."
When Mike Shevlin had gone, Stowe sat ver y still for a long time. He smoked his cigar for a while , then let it go out, and chewed for a while longer on th e dead butt.
Burt Parry had seemed so much what he wa s supposed to be that after a few days of doubt , Stowe had largely ignored him. From time to time h e heard that Parry was having a drink with Clag g Merriam, but it seemed of no importance.
Clagg had lived much of his life in the East, an d Parry was an easterner, so what was more natura l than some casual talk between them? But suppose i t was more than that? Suppose Parry had bee n imported by Merriam? Imported for a specifi c job--to watch over the gold, and perhaps to handl e another task later?
Stowe realized now that his contempt for Merria m had blinded him to the depths that might lie within th e man. He had been so sure that he was usin g Merriam, that he had not considered the other sid e of the coin. Suppose Clagg Merriam had bee n using him?
He, Ben Stowe, was operator of the mines ... y es. But if suddenly the operation was taken out of hi s hands, if the governor suddenly sent a corps o f investigators into the area, he alone would b e sitting in a vulnerable position.
True, Clagg Merriam stood to lose al l he possessed if anything went wrong, bu t Merriam might have some ace-in-the-hole of whic h Stowe was unaware. And Merriam had been smar t enough to plant Burt Parry in a worthless clai m where he could watch the gold cache.
Ben Stowe considered his long-range plan fo r removing Gentry, and then using Clagg Merria m and his share of the gold as a means to establishing himsel f on a respectable footing in Rafter, and in th e state. Folks didn't look to see how a ma n came by money, he told himself; they only looke d to see if he had it. But he could not feel eas y n
ow.
He got up and paced the room , muttering to himself. With a thick finger he reached up an d ripped open his shirt collar--the thing seemed to b e choking him. Maybe he was playing the fool, with hi s ideas of respectability. How long could h e make it stick without blowing up? He'd be bette r off to take the half-million and run. Why b e greedy?
His eyes narrowed with thought, and he stared at th e flame of the coal-oil lamp. Well, why not d o it that way?
The gold train would be going over the mountai n to Tappan Junction. At the Junction a railroad car was already spotted to receive it, a ca r that was supposed to be loaded with hides, and was , in fact, partly loaded with them.
Mike Shevlin could take the gold across th e mountain if anybody could, and arrangements ha d already been made on the other side. Stowe ha d received word that his men were waiting at the Junction.
The car was routed right through to the East, where the gol d could most easily be disposed of ... or enough of it , at any rate.
Stowe had taken eastern trips before, so no on e would be surprised when he took the stage out o f town for the railroad, carrying only one bag.
They would all see he was taking nothing with him , and they'd never believe he was cutting out. The mor e he thought of it, the better he liked the idea. Th e gold would reach the Junction about the same time h e did, and there was never anybody at the Junction bu t the telegraph operator, or some passing cowhan d who stopped by to pick up the news.
He considered the matter with care. He woul d write a letter of resignation to leave behind , attributing his leave-taking to the unsettle d conditions, the unfortunate slaying of Ev e Bancroft, and the accompanying events. That wa y they would have nothing on him, nothing at all. Th e charges down in the mine would be set off, th e drifts that led into the stopes where the high-grad e had been mined could be shot down, and all they coul d ever accuse him of would be quitting his job.
The more he thought of it, the better he liked it.
He would have half a million dollars, an d nobody the wiser. There were, of course, a fe w details to be taken care of.
He called in the men he needed and gave th e necessary orders, and after that he went through his desk; a ll the while he was thinking of Burt Parry. Th e more he considered the situation, the surer h e became that Parry had been posted to watch th e gold; and no doubt he was still there, or somewher e close by.
Then his thoughts shifted to Clagg Merriam.
What could he do about him? Even if Parry wa s eliminated in one way or another, Merriam woul d be aware within a few days that the gold had bee n removed, and he would raise hell.
Yet what could he do? To start any lega l action would be to reveal his own part in the swindle; an d Merriam was not the type to kill. Not, at least , the type to cope with Ben Stowe. So the thing to do abou t Merriam was simply to do nothing. Let Merria m do whatever he wished, and then Stowe would do what wa s necessary.
He checked his gun, thrust another into hi s waist band and shouldered into his coat. It wa s clouding up again, and looked like rain ... so much th e better. Fewer people would be riding out on a rain y night, fewer people who might see a train o f mules starting over the mountain toward the Junction.
The street was empty when he went out. He stood for a moment, collar turned up against th e wind, and then he crossed the street toward th e livery stable. Once, on the far side of th e street, he turned and looked back toward th e lights of the mine. He grinned wryly. "To hel l with it!" he said aloud.
Suddenly he felt free; he fel t relieved, as if he had dropped a grea t burden.
There had been no movement in the shadows up th e street, and he had seen no one. But he himself ha d been seen.
Jess Winkler was too canny an ol d hunter to reveal himself, and he held still in th e shadows, his cold eyes watching Ben Stowe. An d suddenly, as surely as if he had been told , Winkler knew: Ben Stowe was cashing in. He wa s checking out of the game, out of the town, and out of th e country.
After a few minutes Winkler went to his ow n horse and followed Stowe at a discreet distance.
At the mouth of Parry's canyon, Stowe turne d in.
"By the Lord Harry," Winkler muttered , "Ray was right! He's goin' to move that gold."
Behind a low sandhill, under cover of greasewoo d that topped it, Winkler hunkered down to wait an d watch. Scarcely an hour had gon e by when the first of the mules appeared. Winkler counte d forty, some of them probably carrying the grub an d outfit for the guards.
He watched them trail off across the country , keeping just off the main trail. He counted nin e men in the party, and Ben Stowe was not one of them. Bu t Mike Shevlin was.
"I'd rather it had been Ben," Winkler sai d to himself.
He watched them for several more minutes, the n went to his horse and rode wide around and heade d for Hollister's camp.
In the first gray light of day, when only a n arrow of red had found the clouds above, Mik e Shevlin drew up and waved the first man by, with th e mules following. He waved them into an openin g among the enormous tumbled boulders that were pile d all around. The rider hesitated, and starte d to speak.
"Go ahead," Shevlin said shortly. "You can't miss it."
Shevlin tugged his sombrero a little lower on hi s head and swore softly. The dust had settle d around his shirt collar and his neck itched from dust an d sweat. He was playing it by ear ... he had n o real plan--just a vague, half-formed idea tha t seemed to be taking shape in the back of his mind.
He knew none of these men, although two were the me n he had seen inside the mine; but he knew th e breed. It was a breed of tough men, men hired fo r their guns, or for their willingness to use violence , men working here today, and five hundred miles from her e next week or the week after. Their bodies li e in many an arroyo, in unmarked boot-hil l graves, or churned into mud on the grasslands o f Kansas or the Indian Territory.
Some of them were good men, good in the sense o f courage and physical ability, but for the most par t they were men who sought what they thought of as eas y money, although it rarely was. They earned thre e times as much as the average cowhand, and as a rul e they lived a third as long.
He knew their kind, for in a sense he was on e of them. The difference was that he had chosen to rid e on the side of the law--and when you came down to it , that was quite a difference.
He had deeply ingrained within him a respec t for the law, and the need for it. He knew that otherwis e life would be a jungle, and he knew , too, that many of those who made out to despise th e law the most, found themselves wishing for it s protection.
He watched them go by, counting off th e burro-loads as they passed, and checking off th e men too. Not one familiar face among them, an d he had hoped to find at least one. After all, th e West wasn't that big ... not as far as populatio n went, and he had ridden a lot of trails. Ha d he found one man who knew him, he might wel l have found an ally, and he desperately neede d one.
He needed more than one, when it came to that. He found himself searching their faces for some hint of wha t he sought, but he did not find it.
Red was not among them, and that worried him, fo r Red should have been here.
He waited for the last mule and rider to pass , and let dust settle behind them. The thought cam e into his mind that he had always expected to wind u p dead in a canyon somewhere, and this might be the time.
He let his horse take its own pace , unworried, for he knew the trail and nobod y could go anywhere but straight along. Just short o f midway there was a cutoff he would take, bu t nobody else would be apt to find it without bein g shown.
The sun came up behind clouds that steadil y grew darker. There had been rain clouds ove r Rafter, but they had been a good while catchin g up. Somewhere ahead he could expect attac k by Hollister and his men.
Ben Stowe expected it and, knowing Hollister , Mike was sure it would come. Who would Holliste r have with him? Babcock, of course, and some of the othe r
soreheads. But how many? And where would it be?
Hollister, he felt sure, would not know of thi s trail, nor even Babcock. They had neve r been on good terms with Rafter, and their range ha d been far from here.
It was a steep, climbing trail, with many a switch-back and double. It had been mad e by Indians or mountain sheep, and it was the onl y way across the mountain for miles in either direction.
The higher slopes were covered with stunted pines an d juniper; the canyons fell away from the trai l to the bottom of steep cliffs. Here and there rounde d hills rose by the trail, and they offered invitin g chances to escape it, but they were all deceptive , ending in sheer cliffs or slides o f shifting rock.
Presently rain began to fall, scattere d drops at first, followed by a steady downpour.
Shevlin drew up, got out his slicker, and sli d into x. Up ahead he could see the others doing th e same.
Occasionally the leaders would draw up to catch thei r wind, and the party would close up. Shevlin watche d for the turn-off ... he had rarely come this way, an d he was worried that he might miss it. It was a steep, alternate route that cut a good mile of f the distance. There was no other chance to get ahead, an d that was where he needed to be.
He saw the twisted, lightning-struck pine o n the ridge only a moment before he saw the slid e of shale. The slide slanted up steeply, endin g against the sky. It was a stiff scramble for a goo d horse--not over sixty feet of shale, but i t appeared to go nowhere, and certainly was a n unlikely beginning for a trail.
The big horse took it without urging. On top of the slide was a ridge of slate, slantin g back less steeply. Here, barely visible, wa s a narrow way worn by years of passing, bu t invisible to any but a trained eye. This was th e cutoff, and the horse took to it readily.
Beyond lay a vast jumble of grass-covere d slopes, pine-crested ridges, dee p canyons, knolls covered with jagged, broke n rock. It was a place where no man seemed to hav e come, a wild and lonely place, high under th e gray clouds, with only the whispering rain and the soun d of his horse's hoofs to attend him.
the High Graders (1965) Page 15