by Harold Titus
CHAPTER XIII
THE FRAME-UP
The water in Devil's Hole was fenced.
It was the Reverend who brought word of the fencing. He had made acircuit of the ranches, holding services and selling pens, and on hisway back from the lower reaches of Coyote Creek he stopped to call onthe Coles. His visit was not financially productive but he did see longrows of posts set by three Mexicans, and saw wire being stretched onthem.
Another thing he saw, which he did not mention to Hepburn: He saw BobbyCole riding beside a man, a man who did not wear the dress of hercountry but who wore swagger riding clothes; who did not talk with theself consciousness of a mountain man who rides beside a pretty girl,but who leaned toward her and talked engagingly, so engagingly that thegirl lost her hostile attitude and looked up into his face with wide,eager eyes.
The fencing stirred the country as nothing had done since the first andonly time sheep bands attempted to come in. There was talk of it intown, there was talk of it when men met on trail or road, there wastalk of it in ranch houses down the creek and there was talk of itelsewhere, at length, in stealthy jubilation....
Riley of the Bar Z rode the thirty miles from his ranch to discuss itwith Jane Hunter.
"I don't guess you quite understand how serious it is, Miss Hunter," hesaid after they had talked a time. "Do you realize that if we have adry summer--and it's startin' out that way--that this is goin' to cutyour cattle off some of your best range. It may break you."
"I understand that, Mr. Riley," she said, leaning across her desk, "butthere are other things I do not understand and I am inclined to believethat they are of first importance. Without understanding them, thiscondition can not be remedied."
He gave evidence of his surprise.
"I'm not wanted here," she went on. "I'm not wanted because the HC isa rich prize. It seems to be the accepted opinion that I cannot stay,that I will be unable to stand my ground.
"I want to know _why!_ I want to know who is going to drive meout. Some one is behind this nester, I am convinced, and it is theinfluence behind the things we can see that is dangerous. Loss of rangeis serious, surely; but by what manner has that range been lost._That_ is what I want to know!"
Riley eyed her with approval.
"I came up here with the idea that you didn't understand but I guessyou do," he said quietly. "You've got the situation sized up right, butthere's one thing I want to tell you: So far only one blow has beenstruck; it has fallen on you. The next and the next may fall on you,but every time you are hurt it's goin' to hurt the rest of us. Thatmakes your fight our fight.... If you fail, others are likely to fail.
"I've lived here too long in peace after fighting for that peace, tostand by and see trouble start again if I can help it. I'm of the oldschool, Miss Hunter; your uncle and I came in here together. I think alot of his ranch and ... well, if it comes to a fight I can fight againbeside his heir as I fought by his side.
"It won't be pleasant for a woman. Cattle wars ain't gentle affairs.They can't be if they're going to be short wars. There's three thingsto be used; just three: guns an' rope and nerve."
"I trust I can stand unpleasantness if necessary," was her reply.
Riley was impressed with the girl's courage but like the others he wasreluctant to believe that she was made of the stuff that couldrecognize disaster and fight it out, her strength unweakened by panic.
Another visitor was there that day: Pat Webb. Jimmy Oliver had foundone of his colts badly cut by wire and had brought it in. Webb had cometo see the animal and had lingered to talk intimately with Hepburn.
This gave Beck much to think about.
He was saddling his horse at noon when Hepburn approached and asked hisplans for the balance of the day.
"It depends on what I find. I'm after horses first, but I might have alook at other things. There's so damned much happenin' around here thatit pays a man to look sharp."
"You'd better cut out that sort of talk, Beck!"
"What talk?"--mockingly. "Seems to me if you didn't know any more thanI do you wouldn't be so easily roiled up, Hepburn."
"You mind your business and I'll look after mine," the foreman warned,breathing heavily. "About one more break from you and we'll partcompany."
His eyes glittered ominously and his face was malicious.
"I wouldn't be surprised. This outfit's a little too small for you andme. It seems to shrink every day, Dad. Maybe, sometime, you'll have togo, but just keep this in your head: I've promised Miss Hunter to stayand my word is good."
He mounted and Hepburn, walking slowly toward the stable, twirled hismustache speculatively, one eye lid drooped as though he saw faintly aplan which promised to solve perplexities.
Beck was cautious that afternoon, as he had trained himself to be whenriding alone. He kept an eye on the back trail and scanned both gulcheswhen he rode a ridge; but cautious as he was he did not see the tworiders who sat on quiet horses beneath a spreading juniper tree at thehead of Twenty Mile.
It was after dark when he returned to the ranch and the moon was justcommencing to show. The others were at supper. He threw his gun andchaps into the bunk house and fed his horse. As he walked down towardthe ranch house the other men were straggling out and their dining roomwas empty. Carlotta brought him steaming food and he ate with gusto.
When he had nearly finished Jane entered and he started to rise, butshe made him remain seated.
"What do you suppose that man Webb is doing here?" she asked. "Hepburnexplains that he is trying to arrange to send a representative with ourround-up."
"Whatever he's doin' here, it ain't for your good," he replied.
"Nor yours."
"Don't you worry about mine, ma'am and unless he's a lot smarter than Ithink he is, or unless he's got lots of help, don't figure he's goin'to do you any great harm. He's just a low-down--"
A man was running toward the house and he broke off to listen.
Two-Bits came hurriedly into the room, eyes wide, face white, showingnone of his usual confusion at Jane's presence.
"Tommy, they want you," he said unnaturally.
"Yeah? What for, Two-Bits?"
"I don't know, Tommy. Hepburn an' Riley an' Webb an' the rest want you.I don't know what it is, Tommy, but it must be serious."
Tom saw the anxiety in Jane's eyes. She did not put her query intowords; it was not necessary; he knew and answered:
"I ain't got an idea, ma'am, but I'll go find out. You're all wound up,Two-Bits!"--laughing.
"My gosh, Tommy, they acted funny. Have you done anything?" the cowboyasked in an undertone as they left the house.
"A lot, Two-Bits. I sure hope they don't go proddin' into my awfulpast! There's some terrible things they might find!"
He hooked his arm through the other's and laughed at the boy'sapprehension.
But Beck knew that something of grave consequence impended the instanthe set foot in the bunk house for the men, who had been talking lowly,stopped and eyed him in sober silence. Afterward he had a distinctrecollection of Two-Bits slipping along the wall, looking at him overhis shoulder with the freckles showing in great blotches against hiswhite skin. Hepburn, Riley and Webb sat on one bed. The foreman wasleaning back, hands clasping a knee, but he chewed his tobacco withnervous vigor.
"The Reverend about to offer prayer?" Tom asked easily.
There was no responsive smile on any face. Someone coughed loudly andsharply as if it had been an unnecessary cough. Tom halted.
"I'm here. What's up?" he asked quietly. "This is like a funeral ... ora trial."
At that Hepburn cleared his throat.
"Want to ask you somethin', Beck. I want you to tell these other menwhat you said to me this noon."
Tom hitched up his belt.
"If you want 'em to know, why don't you speak the piece yourself? Yourecall it, don't you?"
"Better talk, Tom," Riley advised.
"I don't know what this is all about; I don't know what differ
ence whatI said to Hepburn can make to the rest of you, but I respect youropinions, Riley, and if he's willing for you to know what I said, Isure am willing to repeat it.
"Hepburn and I've had a little argument. It's been goin' on for sometime. He'd be pleased to have me move on, I take it, but I sort of likethis outfit."
"Go on," Hepburn said impatiently.
"I told you, Hepburn, and I'll tell you again that this ranch isgettin' a little small to hold both of us. It seems to shrink every dayand I don't get good elbow room any more, but so far as I'm concernedI'm more or less permanent."
Webb nodded and Riley shifted uneasily, looking from Beck to Hepburn,frankly puzzled.
"Yes, that's what you said to me. Now will you tell the boys where yourode this afternoon?"
Beck eyed him a long moment and the foreman stared back, assured butnot quite composed, his little eyes dark. Once he bit his chew savagelybut his expression did not change.
"I rode out of here straight up Sunny Gulch, climbed out at the head,rode those little dry gulches as far down as Twenty Mile and came upthe far ridge. Then I took a circle to the east and came home by theroad."
"You admit bein' at the head of Twenty Mile, then?"
"Admit it? Yes."
"What time?"
"Three o'clock or thereabouts,"--after a pause in which he considered.
"See any other men?"
"Not a man until I got back."
Hepburn looked about. Two-Bits muttered lowly to himself. Riley draggeda spur across the floor slowly. Every eye in the room was on Beck, andBeck's eyes were on Hepburn.
"Then will you tell the boys how come this?"
The foreman drew a gun and holster from behind him. It was Beck's gun.He drew it from the scabbard, broke it and dropped the cartridges intohis palm.
Three of the shells were empty.
The two gave one another stare for stare. Hepburn was breathing rapidlybut his look was of a man who faces a crisis with all confidence. Beckdid not move or speak. His eyes smouldered and his face settled intostern lines. Then that smouldering burst into blaze and before theglare of will the foreman's hand, holding the contents of the revolverchambers, trembled. He closed it quickly and looked away and where amoment before he had been the accuser he was now on the defense. It wasdetermination against determination and in the conflict words werewrung from him.
"Somebody fired three shots at me at the head of Twenty Mile at threeo'clock this afternoon."
And that sentence, though it was an indictment, was voiced more in amanner of defense than in accusation. With it Beck's expressionchanged; it became alert, as though following some play upon whichgreat stakes hung, but following intelligently, not blind to the way ofthe game.
"I can explain those empty shells. I took a shot at a coyote on the wayback. I didn't see you, Hepburn, after I left here this afternoon untilI got back."
Webb got up.
"I guess that makes the case," he said to no one in particular.
Then to Tom: "I was with Dad; he was ten rod ahead of me. Th' shotscome from above and landed all around him.
"_We_ didn't have to look very hard for somebody who wants to getrid of Dad, but we wanted it from you, Beck."
Triumph was in his little beady eyes and on his mottled face. There wasa shuffling of feet and Tom hooked one thumb in his belt, with a slow,uncertain movement. His eyes held on Hepburn's face, prying, searching,striving to force a meeting but the other would not look at him, hebusied himself stuffing the evidence into his shirt pocket.
Riley rose and the low stir which had followed the revelation subsided.
"Isn't there something else you want to say, Beck?" he asked. "Didn'tyou see any other man? Can't you say something for yourself?"
"I didn't see another man this afternoon," the other replied, stillstriving to make Hepburn meet his gaze, "an' besides there don't seemto be much to say. I've told my story. It's simple enough.... You'veheard the other story, which seems simple enough. Now it's my wordagainst Hepburn's ... an' Webb's,"--as though the last were inafterthought, and of little matter.
Riley faced the circle of listeners.
"This is no boy's play," he said grimly. "The foreman of the biggestoutfit in this country has been shot at, shot at by somebody who didn'tcome from cover and give him even a fair show for a fight. We know thatthere's been bad blood between these two men; Tommy's admitted that. Ihate like hell to think he lost his head over a quarrel and that he'dfight a man from cover, but it looks bad.
"We can't have this go on! There's been stealing and rumors of stealingfor months. There's trouble comin' over water and fence. We've gottenalong like good neighbors for years but now trouble seems to be in theair. I don't see that there's much to it but to take Tom to town an'turn him over to the sheriff.
"Unless,"--facing Beck. "Tommy, ain't there anything you want to say?You've refused once but I keep thinkin' you've got something else youcould tell us."
"No, Riley, I'd be taking a chance by doing more talkin' tonight. I'lldo it when it'll do me more good," he said, but at his own words, bravethough they sounded, his heart sank and a rage boiled up in him.
"Then I'm afraid it's jail for you, son," Riley said. "I can--"
"Jail?"
Jane Hunter had stepped into the bunk house. It was the first time shehad ever been there and that was reason enough to rivet attention onher; but now she came under circumstances which were stressed, her facewas white, lips parted, eyes wide with a child-like wonder and as shepaused on the threshold, one hand against the casing, dread was inevery line of her figure.
"Jail?" she repeated in a strained voice. "And why?"
The silence was oppressive and for a breath no one moved or spoke. Beckhad not turned to face her; his eyes never left Hepburn's face and itwas he who broke the suspense with one word, addressed to the foreman.
"Well?"--a challenge.
Hepburn moved slowly toward the girl.
"There's been a little trouble, Miss Hunter," with an attempt at alaugh, which resulted dismally.
"Trouble?"--with rising inflection.
She took a step forward, looking about at the serious faces. She lookedback at Hepburn; then at Beck. Her eyes clung to him a moment, thenswept the circle again.
"Trouble? About what? Who is in trouble?"
"I didn't want to bother you with it," her foreman said, his assurancecoming back, for Beck had ceased looking at him. "It's a nasty mess; Idon't like it. None of us like it. Even if he is inclined to be alittle hot-headed, we all thought better of Tom--"
"Tom?"
Slowly she turned to face Beck.
"Yes. Tom. We're.... We're sorry, ma'am," Dad stammered; then recoveredand with an effort to belittle the situation by his manner proceeded:"Somebody did a small amount of shootin' at me this afternoon. Webb,here, an' I was at the head of Twenty-Mile and somebody fired threetimes at me. Tom come in tonight with three empty shells in his gun.He.... He didn't explain well enough to suit us because all he couldsay was that he fired at a coyote comin' down the road, but--"
"And you're going to take him to jail?"
Her hand had gone slowly to her throat, fingers clamping on the goldlocket as if for support. Her eyes had become very dark.
"Well, ma'am, that's about all we can do: turn him over to thesheriff," Hepburn said.
She drew a deep breath, a second interval of tense silence prevailedand then Jane, putting one arm across her eyes, began to laugh. Thelaugh started low in her throat and rippled upward until it was fulland as clear as the ringing of a glass gong. She swayed back againstthe wall and pressed her extended palms hard against the tough logs....
"On that evidence?" she cried. "On such evidence you would charge a manwith attempted murder and turn him over to the law? Because there wereempty shells in his revolver?
"Why, I was with him when he came down the road and he _did_ shootat a coyote ... three times ... I heard it; I saw it ... I was there."
She lea
ned her head back and her body shook with silent, nervouslaughter.
"Praise ye the Lord!" chanted the Reverend, "For his ways are wonderousand strange to behold!"
A babel of comments, loud, profane, excited, relieved, arose. Hepburnstood as if struck dumb, mouth agape and then, face growing dark with arush of blood under the bronzed skin, he said:
"I thought you said you didn't see a soul!"
"I said I didn't see a man, you pole-cat!" Beck retorted and his eyesdanced. Webb sat down on a bunk as though suddenly weakened. Riley,voice husky, took Tom's hand, shook it gravely.
"Why didn't you tell us, my boy?" he questioned.
The rest stopped to hear the answer:
"I didn't want to spill my case before this ... this _hombre_showed his full hand," he lied.
He turned to look at the other who had lied ... but Jane Hunter hadfled.