Collection 1986 - The Trail To Crazy Man (v5.0) (20 page)

Both ranches had pushed the Two Bar cattle back, usurping the range for their own use. In the process of being pushed north, most of the Two Bar calves had vanished under Bar M or CP brands. “Mostly the CP,” Ball advised. “Them Pinders are poison mean. Rollie rode with the James boys a few times, and both of them were with Quantrill. Jim’s a fast gun, but nothin’ to compare with Rollie.”

At daylight, with three unbranded mules to carry the supplies, I started for Hattan’s, circling around to hit the trail on the side away from the Two Bar. The town was quiet enough, and the day warm and still. As I loaded the supplies I was sweating. The sweat trickled into my eyes and my side pained me. My face was still puffed, but both my eyes were now open. Leading my mules out of town, I concealed them in some brush with plenty of grass and then returned to Mother O’Hara’s.

Key Chapin and Canaval were there, and Canaval looked up at me. “Had trouble?” he asked. “That job at the Bar M is still open.”

“Thanks. I’m going to run my own outfit.” Foolish though it was; I said it. Olga had come in the door behind me, her perfume told me who it was, and even without it something in my blood would have told me. From that day on she was never to be close to me without my knowledge. It was something deep and exciting that was between us.

“Your own outfit?” They were surprised. “You’re turning nester?”

“No. Ranching.” Turning, I swept off my hat and indicated the seat beside me. “Miss Maclaren? May I have the pleasure?”

Her green eyes were level and measuring. She hesitated and then shook her head. Walking around the table she seated herself beside Canaval.

Chapin was puzzled. “You’re
ranching?
If there’s any open range around here, I don’t know of it.”

“It’s a place over east of here,” I replied lightly, “the Two Bar.”

“What about the Two Bar?” Rud Maclaren had come in. He stood cold and solid, staring down at me.

Olga glanced up at her father, some irony in her eyes. “Mr. Sabre was telling us that he is ranching—on the Two Bar.”

“What?”
Glasses and cups jumped at his voice, and Ma O’Hara hurried in from her kitchen, rolling pin in hand.

“That’s right.” I was enjoying it. “I’ve a working partnership with Ball. He needed help and I didn’t want to leave despite all the invitations I was getting.” Then I added, “A man dislikes being far from the girl he’s to marry.”

“What’s that?” Maclaren demanded, his eyes puzzled.

“Why, Father!” Olga’s eyes widened. “Haven’t you heard? The whole town is talking of it! Mr. Sabre has said he is going to marry me!”

“I’ll see him in hell first!” Maclaren replied flatly. “Young man, you stop using my daughter’s name, or you’ll face me.”

“No one,” I said quietly, “has more respect for your daughter’s name than I. It’s true that I’ve said she was to be my wife. That is not disrespectful, and it’s certainly true. As for facing you, I’d rather not. I’d like to keep peace with my future father-in-law.”

C
ANAVAL CHUCKLED, AND even Olga seemed amused. Key Chapin looked up at Rud. “One aspect of this may have escaped you. Sabre is now a partner of Ball. Why not make it easy for Sabre to stay on and then buy him out?”

Maclaren’s head lifted as he absorbed the idea. He looked at Sabre with new interest. “We might do business, young man.”

“We might,” I replied, “but not under threats. Nor do I intend to sell out my partner. Nor did I take the partnership with any idea of selling out. Tomorrow or the next day I shall choose a building site. Also, I expect to restock the Two Bar range.

“All of which brings me to the point of this discussion. It has come to my attention that the Bar M cattle are trespassing on Two Bar range. You have just one week to remove them. The same goes for the CP. You’ve been told and you understand. I hope we’ll have no further trouble.”

Maclaren’s face purpled with fury. Before he could find words to reply, I was on my feet. “It’s been nice seeing you,” I told Olga. “If you care to help plan your future home, why don’t you ride over?”

With that I stepped out the door before Maclaren could speak. Circling the building, I headed for my horse.

Pinder’s black-haired man was standing there with a gun in his hand. Hatred glared from his eyes. “Figured you pulled a smart one, hey?” he sneered. “Now I’ll kill you!”

His finger started to whiten with pressure, and I hurled myself aside and palmed my gun. Even before I could think, my gun jarred in my hand. Once! Twice!

Blacky’s bullet had torn my shirt collar and left a trace of blood on my neck. Blacky stared at me and then lifted to his toes and fell, measuring his length upon the hard ground.

Men rushed from the buildings, crowding around. “Seen it!” one man explained quietly. “Blacky laid for him with a drawed gun.”

Canaval was among the men. He looked at me with a cool, attentive gaze. “A drawn gun? That was fast, man.”

Ball was at the gate when I arrived. “Trouble?” he asked quickly.

M
Y ACCOUNT WAS brief.

“Well, one less for later,” said Ball. “If it had to be anybody it’s better it was Blacky, but now the Pinders will be after you.”

“Where does Morgan Park stand?” I asked. “And what about Key Chapin?”

“Park?” Ball said. “He’s fixin’ to marry the Maclaren girl. That’s where his bread’s buttered. He’s got him a ranch on the Arizona line, but he don’t stay there much. Chapin publishes the
Rider’s Voice
, a better newspaper than you’d expect in this country. He’s also a lawyer, plays a good hand of poker, an’ never carries a gun. If anybody isn’t takin’ sides, it’s him.”

Mostly I considered the cattle situation. Our calves had been rustled by the large outfits, and if we were to prosper we must get rid of the stock we now had and get some young stuff. Our cattle would never be in better shape and would get older and tougher. Now was the time to sell. A drive was impossible, for two of us couldn’t be away at once, and nobody wanted any part of a job with the Two Bar. Ball was frankly discouraged. “No use, Matt. They got us bottled up. We’re through whenever they want to take us.”

An idea occurred to me. “By the way, when I was drifting down around Organ Rock the other day, I spotted an outfit down there in the hills. Know ’em?”

Ball’s head came up sharply. “Should have warned you. Stay away. That’s the Benaras place, the B Bar B brand. There’s six in the family that I know of, an’ they have no truck with anybody. Dead shots, all of ’em. Few years back some rustlers run off some of their stock. Nobody heard no more about it until Sheriff Will Tharp was back in the badlands east of here. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of man nor beast for miles when suddenly he comes on six skeletons hanging from a rock tower.”

“Skeletons?”

Ball took the pipe from his mouth and spat. “Six of ’em, an’ a sign hung to ’em readin’, ‘They rustled B Bar B cows.’ Nothin’ more.”

But quite enough! The Benaras outfit had been let strictly alone after that. Nevertheless, an idea was in my mind, and the very next morning I saddled up and drifted south.

It was wild and lonely country, furrowed and eroded by thousands of years of sun, wind, and rain, a country tumbled and broken as if by an insane giant. There were miles of raw, unfleshed land with only occasional spots of green to break its everlasting reds, pinks, and whites. Like an oasis, there appeared a sudden cluster of trees, green fields, and fat, drifting cattle. “Whoever these folks are, Buck,” I commented to my horse, “they work hard.”

The click of a drawn-back hammer froze Buck in his tracks, and carefully I kept my hands on the saddle horn. “Goin’ somewhere, stranger?” Nobody was in sight among the boulders at the edge of the field.

“Yes. I’m looking for the boss of the B Bar B.”

“What might you want with him?”

“Business talk. I’m friendly.”

The chuckle was dry. “Ever see a man covered by two Spencers that wasn’t friendly?”

The next was a girl’s voice. “Who you ridin’ for?”

“I’m Matt Sabre, half owner of the Two Bar, Ball’s outfit.”

“You mean that old coot took a partner? You could be lyin’.”

“Do I see the boss?”

“I reckon.” A tall boy of eighteen stepped from the rocks. Lean and drawn, his hatchet face looked tough and wise. He carried his Spencer as if it were part of him. He motioned with his head.

T
HE OLD MAN of the tribe was standing in front of a house built like a fort. Tall as his son, he was straight as a lodgepole pine. He looked me up and down and then said. “Get down an’ set.”

A stout, motherly woman put out some cups and poured coffee. Explaining who I was, I said, “We’ve some fat stock about ready to drive. I’d like to make a swap for some of your young stuff. We can’t make a drive, don’t dare even leave the place or they’d steal it from us. Our stock is in good shape, but all our young stuff has been rustled.”

“You’re talkin’.” He studied me from under shaggy brows. He looked like a patriarch right out of the Bible, a hard-bitten old man of the tribe who knew his own mind and how to make it stick. He listened as I explained our setup and our plans. Finally, he nodded. “All right, Sabre. We’ll swap. My boys will help you drive ’em back here.”

“No need for that. Once started down the canyons I’ll need no help. No use you getting involved in this fight.”

He turned his fierce blue eyes on me. “I’m buyin’ cows,” he said grimly. “Anybody who wants trouble over that, let ’em start it!”

“Now, Paw!” Mother Benaras smiled at me. “Paw figures he’s still a-feudin’.”

Old Bob Benaras knocked out his pipe on the hearth. “We’re beholden to no man, nor will we backwater for any man. Nick, roust out an’ get Zeb, then saddle up an’ ride with this man. You ride to this man’s orders. Start no trouble, but back up for nobody. Understand?”

He looked around at me. “You’ll eat first. Maw, set up the table. We’ve a guest in the house.” He looked searchingly at me. “Had any trouble with Jim Pinder yet?”

It made a short tale; then I added, “Blacky braced me in town a few days ago. Laid for me with a drawn gun.”

Benaras stared at me, and the boys exchanged looks. The old man tamped tobacco into his pipe. “He had it comin’. Jolly had trouble with that one. Figured soon or late he’d have to kill him. Glad you done it.”

All the way back to the Two Bar we watched the country warily, but it was not until we were coming up to the gate that anyone was sighted. Two riders were on the lip of the wash, staring at us through a glass. We passed through the gate and started up the trail. There was no challenge. Nick said suddenly, “I smell smoke!”

Fear went through me like an electric shock. Slapping the spurs to my tired buckskin, I put the horse up the trail at a dead run, Nick and Zeb right behind me. Turning the bend in the steep trail, I heard the crackle of flames and saw the ruins of the house!