Collection 1986 - The Trail To Crazy Man (v5.0) (40 page)

They pushed on, entered the canyon, and emerged from it, heading due west. He rode warily, and once, far off on his left, he glimpsed a horseman. Later, seeing the same rider, nearer than before, he deduced they were under observation and hoped there would be no attack.

“The country where most of the squatters are is right smack dab in the middle of the range the company is after. The hombre most likely to head ’em is Bob McLennon. He’s got him two right-hand men name of Pete Slagle an’ Pit Laine. Now, you asked me the other day if they would fight. Them three are shinnery oak. Slagle’s an oldish feller, but McLennon’s in his forties an’ was once a cow-town marshal. Laine, well, he’s a tough one to figure, but he packs two guns an’ cuts him a wide swath over there. I hear tell he had him some gun trouble up Durango way an’ he didn’t need no help to handle it.”

From behind him Kedrick heard a low voice mutter, “Most as hard to figure as his sister!”

_______

D
ORNIE’S MOUTH TIGHTENED. He gave no other evidence that he had heard, but the comment added a little to Kedrick’s information. Obviously, Dornie Shaw had a friend in the enemy’s camp, and the information with which he had been supplying Keith must come from that source. Was the girl betraying her own brother and her friends? It could be, but could Shaw come and go among them without danger? Or did he worry himself about it?

There had been no mention of Dai Reid, yet the powerful little Welshman was sure to be a figure wherever he stood, and he was definitely a man to be reckoned with.

Suddenly, a rider appeared from an arroyo not thirty yards off and walked her horse toward them. Dornie Shaw swore softly and drew up. As one man, they all stopped.

The girl was small, well made, her skin as brown as that of an Indian, her hair coal black. She had large, beautiful eyes and small hands. Her eyes flashed from Dornie to the others and then clung to Tom Kedrick, measuring him for a long minute. “Who’s your friend, Dornie?” she said. “Introduce me.”

Shaw’s eyes were dark and hard as he turned slightly. “Captain Kedrick, I want you to meet Sue Laine.”

“Captain?” She studied him anew. “Were you in the Army?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. Her pinto was not the horse of the rider who had been observing them; therefore, there was another rider out there somewhere. Who was he?

“You’re ridin’ quite a ways from home, Sue,” Shaw interrupted. “You think that’s wise?”

“I can take care of myself, Dornie!” Her reply was cool, and Kedrick saw blood rise under Shaw’s skin. “However, I came to warn you, or Captain Kedrick, if he is in charge. It won’t be safe to ride any further. McLennon called a meeting this morning, and they voted to open fire on any party of surveyors or strange riders they see. From now on, this country is closed. A rider is going to Mustang tonight with the news.”

“There she is,” Goff said dryly. “They are sure enough askin’ for it! What if we ride on anyway?”

Sue glanced at him. “Then there will be fighting,” she said quietly.

“Well,” Poinsett said impatiently, “what are we talkin’ for? We come here to fight, didn’t we? Let’s ride on an’ see how much battle they got in them.”

Tom Kedrick studied the girl thoughtfully. She was pretty, all right, very pretty. She lacked the quiet beauty of Connie Duane, but she did have beauty. “Do they have scouts out?” he asked.

She glanced at him. “Not yet, but they will have.” She smiled. “If they had, I’d never have dared ride to warn you.”

“Whose side are you on, Miss Laine?” Kedrick asked.

Dornie’s head came around sharply, and his eyes blazed. Before he could speak, Sue Laine answered for herself. “That decision I make for myself. My brother does not make it for me, nor any one of them. They are fools! To fight over this desert!” Contemptuously, she waved a hand at it. “There’s no more than a hare living on it, anyway! If they lose, maybe we can leave this country!”

She swung her horse abruptly. “Well, you’ve had your warning. Now I’ll go back.”

“I’ll be ridin’ your way,” Shaw interposed.

Her eyes swung back to him. “Don’t bother!” Then she turned her attention deliberately to Kedrick and measured him again with her cool eyes, a hint of a smile in them now. “If anybody comes, let Captain Kedrick come. They don’t know him!”

_______

S
OMEBODY IN THE group chuckled, and Dornie Shaw swung his horse, his face white as death. His teeth were bared, his right hand poised. “Who laughed?” he said, his voice almost trembling.

“Miss Laine,” Kedrick said quietly, “I think Dornie Shaw could make the trip better than I. He knows the country.”

Shaw’s eyes glittered. “I asked—
who laughed?
”

Kedrick turned his head. “Forget it, Shaw.” His voice was crisp. “There’ll be no fighting with other men in this outfit while I’m in command!”

For an instant, Dornie Shaw held his pose. Then his eyes, suddenly opaque as a rattler’s, swung toward Kedrick. “You’re tellin’
me
?” Incredulity mixed with sarcasm.

Tom Kedrick knew danger when he saw it, but he only nodded. “You or anybody, Dornie. We have a job to do. You’ve hired on for that job as much as any man here. If we begin to fight among ourselves we’ll get nothing done, and right now we can’t afford to lose a good man.

“I scarcely think,” he added, “that either Keith or Burwick would like the idea of a killing among their own men.”

Shaw’s eyes held Kedrick’s, and for an instant there was no sound. A cicada hummed in the brush, and Sue Laine’s horse stamped at a fly. Tom Kedrick knew in that instant that Dornie Shaw hated him, and he had an idea that this was the first time Shaw had ever been thwarted in any purpose he held.

Then Shaw’s right hand slowly lowered. “You got me on that one, Captain.” His voice was empty, dry. “I reckon this is too soon to start ‘shootin’—an’ old man Burwick is right touchy.”

Sue Laine glanced again at Kedrick, genuine surprise and not a little respect in her eyes. “I’ll be going. Watch yourselves!”

Before her horse could more than start, Kedrick asked, “Miss Laine, which of your outfit rides a long-legged grulla?”

She turned on him, her face pale as death. “A—a grulla?”

“Yes,” he said. “Such a rider has been watching us most of the morning, and such a rider is not over a half mile away now. Also,” he added, “he has a field glass!”

Fessenden turned with an oath, and Poinsett glared around. Only Shaw spoke. His voice was strained and queer. “A grulla? Here?”

He refused to say more, but Kedrick studied him, puzzled by the remark. It was almost as if Shaw knew a grulla horse, but had not expected it to be seen here. The same might be true of Sue Laine, obviously upset by his comment. Long after they rode on, turning back toward the spring on the North Fork, Kedrick puzzled over it. This was an entirely new element that might mean anything or nothing.

There was little talking on the way back. Poinsett was obviously irritated that they had not ridden on in, yet he seemed content enough to settle down into another camp.

IV

Dornie Shaw was silent, saying nothing at all. Only when Tom Kedrick arose after supper and began to saddle his horse did he look up. Kedrick glanced at him. “Shaw, I’m ridin’ to Yellow Butte. I’m going to look that setup over at first hand. I don’t want trouble an’ I’m not huntin’ any, but I want to know what we’re tacklin’.”

Shaw was standing, staring after him, when he rode off. He rode swiftly, pushing due west at a good pace to take advantage of the remaining light. He had more than one reason for the ride. He wanted to study the town and the terrain, but also he wanted to see what the people were like. Were they family men? Or were they outlaws? He had seen little thus far that tended to prove the outlaw theory.

The town of Yellow Butte lay huddled at the base of the long, oval-shaped mesa from which it took its name. There, on a bit of flat land, the stone and frame buildings of the town had gathered together. Most of them backed against the higher land behind them and faced toward the arroyo. Only three buildings and the corrals were on the arroyo side, but one thing was obvious. The town had never been planned for defense.

A rifleman or two on top of Yellow Butte could cover any movement in the village, and the town was exposed to fire from both the high ground behind the town and the bed of the arroyo, where there was shelter under its banks. The Butte itself was scarcely one hundred and fifty feet higher than the town and looked right down the wide street before the buildings.

Obviously, however, some move had been made toward defense, or was in the process of being made, for there were some piles of earth, plainly from recent digging, near several of the buildings. He studied them, puzzled over their origin and cause. Finally, he gave up and scouted the area.

He glanced at the butte thoughtfully. Had they thought of putting their own riflemen up there? It would seem the obvious thing, yet more than one competent commander had forgotten the obvious at some time during his career, and it might also be true of these men. The top of the butte not only commanded the town, but most of the country around. It was the highest point within several miles.

That could come later. Now Kedrick turned his palouse down the hill toward the town, riding in the open, his right hand hanging free at his side. Yet, if he was seen, nothing was done to disturb him. How would it have been if there were more than one rider?

He swung down before the Butte Saloon and tied his horse at the rail. The animal was weary, he knew, and in no shape for a long ride, but he had made his own plans, and they did not require such a ride.

The street was empty, so he stepped up on the walk and pushed through the swinging doors into the bright lights of the interior. A man sitting alone at a table saw him, scowled and started to speak, and then went on with his solitaire. Tom Kedrick crossed to the bar. “Rye,” he said quietly.

The bartender nodded and without looking up, poured the drink. It was not until Kedrick dropped his coin on the bar that he looked up. Instantly, his face stiffened. “Who’re you?” he demanded. “I never saw you before!”

_______

K
EDRICK WAS AWARE that men had closed in on both sides of him, both of them strangers. One was a sharp-looking, oldish man, the other an obviously belligerent redhead. “Pour a drink for my friends, too,” he said, and then he turned slowly, so they would not mistake his intentions, until his back was to the bar. Carefully, he surveyed the room.

There were a dozen men here, and all eyes were on him. “I’m buying,” he said quietly. “Will you gentlemen join me?”

Nobody moved, and he shrugged. He turned back to the bar. His drink was gone.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the bartender. “I bought a drink,” he said quietly.

The man stared back at him, his eyes hard. “Never noticed it,” he said.

“I bought a drink and paid my money, and I want my drink.”

All was still. The men on either side of him leaned on the bar, ignoring him.

“I’m a patient man,” he persisted. “I bought a drink, an’ I want it—now.”

“Mister,” the bartender thrust his wide face across the bar, “we don’t serve drinks to your kind here. Now get out before we throw you out!”

Kedrick’s forearms were resting on the edge of the bar, and what happened was done so swiftly that neither man beside him had a chance to move.

Tom Kedrick’s right hand shot out and grabbed the bartender by the shirt collar under his chin. Then he turned swiftly, back to the bar, and heaved! The bartender came over the bar as if greased and hit the floor with a crash. Instantly, Kedrick spun away from the two men beside him and stood facing the room, gun in hand.

Men had started to their feet, and several had moved toward him. Now they froze where they were. The .44 Russian had appeared as if materialized from thin air.

“Gentlemen,” Kedrick said quietly, “I did not come here hunting trouble. I have been hired for a job, as all of you, at some time or another, have been hired for a job. I came to see if you were the manner of men you have been represented as being. Evidently your bartender is hard of hearing or lacking in true hospitality. I ordered a drink.

“You,” Kedrick gestured at the man playing solitaire, “look like a man of judgment. You pour my drink and put it on the end of the bar nearest me. Then,” his eyes held the room, “pour each of these gentlemen a drink.” With his left hand he extracted a gold eagle from his pocket and slapped it on the bar. “That pays.”

He took another step back, and then coolly, he holstered his gun. Eyes studied him, but nobody moved. The redhead did not like it. He had an urge to show how tough he was, and Kedrick could see it building. “You!” Kedrick asked quickly. “Are you married? Children?”

The redhead stared at him, and then said, his voice surly, “Yeah, I’m married, an’ I got two kids. What’s it to you?”

“I told you,” Kedrick replied evenly, “I came to see what manner of men you are.”

The man who was pouring the drinks looked up. “I’ll answer your questions. I’m Pete Slagle.”

“I’ve heard of you.”

A slight smile came to Slagle’s mouth. “Yeah,” he said, “an’ I’ve heard of you.”

_______

N
OBODY MOVED OR spoke while Slagle calmly poured the drinks. Then he straightened and glanced around the room. “Men,” he said, “I reckon there’s no use goin’ off half cocked an’ gettin’ somebody killed. Let’s give this man a chance to speak his piece. We sure don’t have to buy what he wants to sell us if we don’t like his argument.”

“Thanks, Slagle.” Kedrick studied the room. Two of the faces seemed hard, unrelenting. Another was genuinely interested, but at the door in the rear, a man loitered who had shifty eyes and a sour face. He could have been in disposition at least, a twin brother to the former outlaw Clauson.

“The land around here,” Kedrick said quietly, “is about to be purchased from the government by the firm who have employed me. The firm of Burwick, Keith and Gunter. In New Orleans, where I was hired, I was told that there were squatters on the land, a bunch of outlaws, renegades, and wasters, and that they would resist being put off and would aim to keep the badlands for themselves. My job was to clean them out, to clear the land for the company. I have come here for that purpose.”