Hardcase Law

by Neil Webb

  ‘So you did ride up to the Porter place last night ready to kill.’ Latimer’s lips tightened. ‘Well we’ll soon put a stop to Rand’s game. How come you’re loosening your tongue now?’

  ‘Because you’re riding straight to KS, and I’m certain you won’t leave it alive. From the tales I’ve heard about you, Latimer, I thought you were a clever man. But this proves you ain’t. I’ll allow you’ve got gall. But that won’t be enough on KS.’

  Latimer did not reply. He shrugged his shoulders, turning in his saddle continuously, studying his back trail and scanning the country all around. He saw nothing to alarm him, but did not relax his vigilance. He was now on KS range, and knew he could not afford to take chances. The ground ahead became broken and rough, and great rocks reared up their copper coloured bulk to disturb the pleasant greenery of the rangeland. The breaks stretched eastwards as far as the eye could see.

  ‘Where has Rand taken Glory Stott?’ Latimer suddenly demanded.

  ‘You’ll have to ask him. He’s the boss.’

  EIGHT

  They continued, the gunman moving into the lead and angling into the scrub, following a faint trail that Latimer could hardly discern. Their progress was slow over this great tract of broken ground. They skirted large piles of curious rock formations that stood as if built by devilish giant hands, and they felt dwarfed and insignificant as they sweated on their game mounts through this wilderness of natural revolt against nature’s order of things. An hour’s ride found them coming into gentle country again. Latimer was relieved when they began cantering over open range. He watched ceaselessly for KS riders, but saw no sign of life in this vast green wilderness.

  Another hour’s ride found them picking their way down the steep back trail that gave access to the great natural basin in which stood Kenton Stott’s ornate house. The prisoner reached the bottom and waited for Latimer to join him. The man was in affable mood now.

  ‘If I was in your boots, Latimer, I wouldn’t have come within ten miles of this place.’ The gunman pointed to the big ranch house. ‘There are close to forty guns in Rand’s gang. They would welcome the chance to tear you to pieces. Some of them are pards to the men you’ve killed. Rand wouldn’t have to give the order for them to kill you.’

  ‘I sharpen my teeth on gun hawks,’ Latimer replied shortly. ‘Get moving. And I don’t want any trouble from you when we reach the house. You’re my prisoner, and I’ll shoot you down in cold blood if you try anything.’

  They rode into the yard and made for the house, and Latimer checked his guns as he allowed the gunman to draw slightly ahead of him. They moved at a canter. Latimer noted that four saddle mounts stood at the rail outside the bunkhouse under the trees to the right.

  ‘There’s a man sitting on the porch holding a rifle,’ Latimer said. ‘You pull over to the right and sit your horse at the end of the hitch rail in front of the porch. You don’t say anything, and you don’t dismount. If you’re not where you should be when I want you again I’ll come looking for you, and you know what that means.’

  The gunman angled to the right. Latimer rode to the wide stone steps and reined in. He sat with his right hand at his hip. The man on the porch got up and came forward with the rifle held across his body, the muzzle pointing at the ground.

  ‘Is Colley Rand here?’ Latimer demanded.

  The guard glanced at the law badge on Latimer’s coat. Then he shook his head.

  ‘He’s not here. Rode to town two hours ago.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘No. He took six riders with him.’

  ‘Then I’ll see Kenton Stott. Is he here?’

  ‘He is. But I’ve got orders that no one is to see him.’

  ‘Well I’m not no one. I’m Frank Latimer, deputy sheriff from town. If you figure on stopping me seeing Stott, you’d better get that rifle working.’

  The man hesitated. Latimer saw a shadow of fear cross his face and smiled inwardly. There would be no trouble from this one, he thought. But he watched the man very closely, ready to flow into action at the first hostile movement.

  ‘It was Rand’s orders,’ the guard said at length. ‘If he wants to tangle with you then that’s his business. But I’m not going to commit suicide.’

  ‘Then drop your rifle and your gun belt. Leave them lying and go over to the bunkhouse and stay there until I’ve ridden out. Move now.’

  Latimer’s lips pulled back into a savage grin when the man dropped his weapons and began walking slowly to the bunkhouse. This had happened many times before when he had thrown a challenge to someone who knew of his reputation. These two-bit gunmen were never keen to face up to a real out and out badman.

  Latimer dismounted and strode up the steps, pausing on the porch. He thrust open the big front door of the house. The interior was as silent as the open range. He turned and looked at his prisoner still sitting in his mount quietly at the hitch rail. The man caught his eye and looked away. Latimer looked into the house again.

  ‘Stott,’ he shouted, and listened to his voice echoing through the house. ‘Stott, this is Latimer, the deputy. Come on out here to me.’

  He waited silently for several moments, his eyes flickering around the yard for signs of Rand’s men moving in to tackle him. But everywhere was silent and still. Then he heard footsteps from somewhere inside the house, and he drew his right hand Colt. Kenton Stott appeared from a room. The obese rancher came towards Latimer with quick, nervous steps. Latimer was shocked by the rancher’s appearance. Stott had been sleeping in his clothes. His thickly fleshed face, with its many creases and wrinkles and puppy-fat pouches under the eyes, was covered with a sparse, greying stubble, and Stott’s eyes were bloodshot and tired.

  Stott grasped Latimer’s left arm, and the man’s great relief was apparent in his bloated face. Sweat stood out in great beads on his forehead and trickled down his nose from time to time.

  ‘We’re getting out of here,’ Latimer said. ‘Come on, before some of these gunmen get organized.’

  ‘Rand has taken Glory off somewhere,’ Stott gasped. ‘He’s been holding me prisoner.’

  ‘I know all about that, but we can’t do anything now. Let’s get out of here. There’s a rifle and pistol down there. Pick them up and be prepared to use them.’

  Stott was gasping, breathing heavily through his mouth. He grunted as he bent to pick up the guns. Latimer crossed the porch and swung into his saddle. A quick glance across at the bunkhouse showed him half a dozen gunmen standing at the door. He swung to his prisoner.

  ‘Ride in close,’ he commanded. He was holding his Colt in his right hand. The gunman came near. ‘Now get down and get the hell out of here. I want your horse. But I shan’t forget your face, and if I ever see you again I’ll take you in.’

  The gunman dismounted and Latimer grabbed the trailing reins of the horse.

  ‘Come on, Stott, climb into the saddle and let’s get out of here before they start shooting.’

  ‘I haven’t ridden a horse inside of twenty years,’ the big rancher protested.

  ‘You can stay here if you like,’ Latimer said flatly ‘but don’t forget about your daughter. We’ve got to make a start somewhere. I’ll get you into town, then go after Glory. But it’s no use getting your daughter back if Rand still has you.’

  Sweat poured down Stott’s face as he tried to haul himself into the saddle. The horse pulled away when it felt the rancher’s great weight. Latimer cursed and swung down, holstering his gun. He heaved at Stott, cursing loudly until the big man sat leather and had grabbed the reins. Then Latimer regained his own saddle with a lithe bound, and as he swung his mount he looked at the assembled gunmen. They were still standing quietly in front of the bunkhouse.

  ‘Let’s ride,’ Latimer said and spurred his mount. Stott bounced up and down in his saddle as they rode out of the yard. Latimer kept close watch on the immobile gunmen until they had put a considerable distance between themselves and the ranch.

  ‘Any idea w
here Rand has taken Glory?’ Latimer asked, when they had pulled their horses down to a trot.

  ‘No.’ Stott shook his head. He spoke through clenched teeth. ‘He said he’d keep her prisoner until I’d signed over more than half the ranch to him. All this happened when we got back home from Court. Rand accused Glory of making up to you, and demanded she agreed at once to marry him. I told him I would not let her throw herself away on him, and she made it more than clear that she didn’t want him. Then I told him I was going to fire most of the gunmen and just keep cow-punchers. He drew on me, made me a prisoner, and took Glory. I wouldn’t sign any part of the ranch over to him, because I knew he would kill me the moment I did so.’

  ‘Rand’s gone into town now,’ Latimer said.

  ‘Rand has got to be stopped, Latimer.’ Stott cursed as he tried to ease himself in the saddle. ‘My God, this ride is killing me. Do you think he’ll harm Glory?’

  ‘I don’t know what the hell he’ll do. But he sent three riders last night to tear down the fence between your ranch and the Porter place. A herd of your stock is on Porter range right now.’

  ‘I know nothing about that.’ Stott wheezed. ‘Everything is out of my hands. I’ve lost control. But when I get to town I’m going to hire me another crew.’

  ‘Now you’re talking.’ Latimer turned in his saddle to survey their back trail. ‘A lot of blood has been spilt on your account. It’s about time you started cleaning up.’

  ‘I can’t put life back into dead men.’ Stott said. ‘But I’ll try and make amends. Wait until I get to town.’

  ‘We’ll ride a little faster if you can take it,’ Latimer said. ‘Rand has a lot to answer for, and the sooner he’s stopped the better.’

  They broke into a gallop that jolted the breath out of Stott, and Latimer watched the big man with little sympathy for the rancher. Indeed he felt more pity for the labouring horse the man was riding.

  It wanted two hours to sundown when Latimer and Stott entered the town. Latimer led the way down the centre of the street. Stott was swaying wearily in his saddle.

  ‘I want nothing more than to lie down,’ the fat rancher said. ‘Get me into the hotel, Latimer. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘We’re going to see the sheriff first.’ Latimer grinned through stiff lips. ‘You are going to swear out a complaint against Colley Rand. Then we’ve got to get your daughter back. Or are you more concerned with your own comfort?’

  ‘No. Let’s see Walsh. But make it quick.’

  ‘You’d better stay in jail.’ Latimer looked around the street. He was struck by the excitement which obviously gripped these townsfolk on the sidewalks. He wondered if Rand had pulled something else upon his arrival in town. ‘If Rand finds out you’re no longer a prisoner on KS he’ll figure you’re no further use to him and have you cut down.’

  Stott paled. He licked his dusty lips. Latimer saw that the man was in the last stages of exhaustion.

  Stott’s expansive face was grey, his eyes bloodshot. The rancher hadn’t sat a horse in many a long year, and the heat from the brassy sun had almost dehydrated his huge body. Latimer’s lips thinned. Stott had brought all this upon himself.

  They reined in at the hitch rail outside the law office, and Latimer had to drag Stott out of his saddle. The rancher tottered when his feet were on the ground. He grabbed at Latimer to prevent himself falling, and Latimer staggered under the man’s immense weight.

  Latimer noticed that the townsfolk along the sidewalks were converging upon the sheriff’s office. He wondered if Rand had been arrested when he arrived in town. It was obvious that something big had happened. The door of the office was jerked open then, and Barr emerged. The big deputy was holding a levelled shotgun, and his face was suffused with anger.

  ‘Throw them up, Latimer,’ he grated. ‘Don’t do anything with your hands or you’ll get both barrels.’ Latimer halted in shocked silence. He was supporting Stott, who was grunting with fatigue which had put pain into his joints and muscles. For once in his life, Latimer was completely surprised. Barr stamped on the sidewalk, the muzzle of the shotgun gaping ominously at Latimer’s chest.

  ‘What in hell is this?’ Latimer demanded. ‘Don’t you know you shouldn’t be fooling around with guns, Barr? They’re dangerous.’

  ‘Just reach for a gun and see if I’m fooling, Latimer. Raise your hands and keep them high.’

  Latimer lifted his hands. Barr circled him and lifted Latimer’s Colts from their open holsters. Weariness descended upon Latimer when the weight of his weapons was taken from his hips. He could guess what had happened. His face hardened. Barr poked him in the back with the shotgun. Latimer stepped forward into the office. Stott followed, muttering in his surprise. Barr entered and slammed the door against the gathering crowd. The sheriff sat at his desk. The older man looked tired and woebegone. His eyes met Latimer’s then flickered away. He picked up a wanted notice from his desk and studied it.

  ‘So you’re the great Link Latimer!’ ejaculated Barr. ‘Take off that star.’

  Latimer removed the badge from his coat and tossed it on to the desk. It lay upon his picture on the dodger under the sheriff’s hands.

  ‘I always say let sleeping dogs lie,’ Latimer said softly. ‘I’ve done no wrong here. In fact I’ve risked my life more than once for the law and I’ve accomplished more since I’ve been here than this office has done since Rand hit this range.’

  ‘You’re an outlaw,’ Barr said flatly. ‘There’s a price on your head. We’re going to lock you up.’

  ‘What about Rand? He came to town, didn’t he?’ Latimer stared at the sheriff.

  ‘He did,’ Walsh said slowly. ‘He came in here with this dodger. He turned you in. Then we arrested him and put him in the cells. An hour ago, while Barr and I were along the street, three of his gunnies came in here, shot Walker and took Rand out.’

  Latimer’s teeth clicked together. ‘Is Walker dead?’ he demanded.

  The sheriff nodded slowly. ‘He is. They never gave him a chance. He was shot in the back.’

  Latimer slowly shook his head in disbelief. Young Walker murdered! The youngster who had hoped that one day he would become the sheriff of this County. Walker had envied Latimer’s gun skill. Now he was dead.

  ‘Sheriff, let me go after Rand,’ Latimer said. ‘I’ll come back and lock myself in jail afterwards. But let me ride out of here now.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Barr said. ‘There’s a fifteen hundred dollar reward for you.’

  ‘So you want the money.’ Latimer snarled. ‘It doesn’t matter to you that Walker, your partner, has been shot down in cold blood. It would be more to your credit if you’d gone out after Rand.’

  ‘Walker’s dead, and getting myself killed as well won’t solve anything. Rand is too good for me and I know it.’ Barr spoke bitterly. ‘I’m only a deputy sheriff. Now undo your gun belts. You won’t need them anymore. Shall I lock him up, sheriff?’

  ‘Don’t do a fool thing like that, sheriff,’ Stott wheezed. ‘Latimer’s the best man you’ve ever had wearing a star, outlaw or not. Give him back his guns and let him go after Rand. He’s the only man in this County who would offer to go, and the only one who would have a chance from an even break. Rand has kept me prisoner in my home since yesterday, and has taken my daughter off somewhere to use her as a hostage against me. He’s after control of KS, and doesn’t care how he gets it. My life will be in danger when he finds that Latimer has gotten me away from KS.’

  ‘We’ve already wired the sheriff of Dry Ford County, telling him we’ve got you, Latimer,’ said Barr. ‘He’ll send a deputy for you within a week. You’ve come to the end of your trail.’

  Latimer could see that pleading with the lawman would avail him nothing. He was filled with sorrow for Walker’s death. Rand would pay for that even though he hadn’t pulled the trigger himself.

  ‘Has Aggie Porter showed up in town?’ Latimer asked. ‘I left her heading this way at sun-up this mornin
g.’

  ‘I’ve seen her around town today,’ said Barr. ‘She came in and told us what happened out at her place last night.’

  ‘It’s all Rand’s work, sheriff,’ Stott said quickly. ‘I’ve been turned out of my home. I daren’t go back now. Rand’s men will shoot me on sight. You’ve got to do something. There’s no telling what will happen to my daughter.’

  ‘You’ve brought all this trouble on to yourself and us,’ said Walsh. ‘It’s all your fault. Now we’ve got to do the dirty work.’

  Barr picked up the cell keys and motioned to Latimer, who sighed in resignation.

  ‘You know the way,’ Barr said.

  Latimer went into the cell block. Barr had discarded the shotgun for his six-gun, and Latimer stood silent while the deputy unlocked a cell. Then he entered and sat down on a bunk. Barr locked the door, holstered his gun and went back into the office. Latimer stretched himself out on the bunk and laced his fingers behind his head. He relaxed with a long sigh. In an instant all his planning and scheming had become useless. Ever since he had left KS his head had been whirling with plots. Now it was all over. All he had to worry about was his own predicament, and he knew he was facing fifteen years in prison for the long list of crimes he had committed through the years. The knowledge left him bleak.

  So Rand had informed against him! That meant a showdown with Rand if ever they met again. Latimer’s thin lips twisted. Rand was the cause of all the trouble around here.

  At sundown Barr came in and lit the lamp that hung in the passage between the cells. He left again without speaking. Latimer sat up. He had been dozing for an hour, and now he felt mentally refreshed. He had nothing to plan at this moment. If he didn’t go to prison for the rest of his life — and the only way of avoiding that was to break jail — then he would look for Rand to face the gunman through smoke. Rand would be easy to find. Beyond that there was nothing to occupy his mind.

  The noisy opening of the door between the cells and the office attracted Latimer’s attention. Barr entered leading Aggie Porter. The deputy stood aside to let the girl enter. Then he went out and shut the door. Aggie came slowly to the cell door.