Law Of the Desert Born (Ss) (1984) (26 page)

This was a woman to quicken the blood in a man, Sabre thought. As he stepped toward her, he saw Falle
y
come from the Empire House and look down the street toward them. Strange, until then he had not noticed. Fahey never seemed to carry a gun.

The girl in gray held out her hand to him. Her eyes were clear and very, very lovely.

-I am Claire Gallatin. I came as quickly as I could, but I've been afraid I'd be too late."

-Too late?"

-To see about your prisoner, about my brother."

Matt Sabre returned his hat to his head, and when his hand returned to his side, his eyes were again quiet.
I see. Your brother is a prisoner of mine? Under another name perhaps?"

-Yes. He was known here as Rafe Berry."

Matt Sabre somehow knew he had expected this. And yet he showed nothing in his face.
I am sorry, Miss Gallatin, sorry for you and your family. It is most unfortunate, but you see, Rafe Berry is to be hanged the day after tomorrow."

-Oh, no!" Her fingers touched his arm.
He mustn't be! It's all a dreadful mistake! Rafe couldn't have done what they accuse him of doing! I just know it!"

Her face was agonized, showing the shock and pain she must be feeling. He glanced around at the curious gathering about them. None listened obviously, yet all were attentive.

"We'd better go inside. We can talk in the dining room," he said quietly.

When they were seated at a table over coffee, she looked across the table at him; her eyes were very large. She leaned toward him, her hand resting on his sleeve. The touch was light yet intimate, and Matt found that he liked it.
Rafe wasn't a bad boy," she said quickly,
although he was reckless. But he never did hurt anybody, and I am sure he would not. There's been some dreadful mistake."-

-The evidence was quite conclusive," Matt said quietly. "And in any event, I am only the marshal. I arreste
d
him, but I did not try him. Nor could I free him." She ignored this. Her voice was low and persuasive as she talked, telling him of their Louisiana home, of her ailing mother, of how they needed Rafe at home. "I'm sure," she added, "that if he were home again, he would never come back here." And she talked on, her voice low. She was, he decided, just exactly what one would expect a cultured lady of Louisiana to be like. He shook his head slowly. "Unfortunately, ma'am," he said gently, "Rafe has already been sentenced. There's nothing I, or anyone, could do."

She bit her lip. "No," she said, lifting her handkerchief, "I suppose not, but if there is anything just anything-I could do, no matter how much it costs, would you let me know? After all, what will be gained by his death? If he goes away and is never seen again, wouldn't that be just as good?"

"I'm afraid folks wouldn't think so, ma'am. You see, the jury sentenced Rafe for murder, but it wasn't only that that they had in mind. This is to be an example, ma'am. There have been a lot of murders around here lately. They have to stop."

She left him then and went to her room, and Matt Sabre returned to the street. It was quiet tfit night, more quiet than usual. It was almost as if the whole town were waiting to see Rafe Berry hanged and if he was hanged on schedule . . . if not, the whole lid might blow off.

The lawless element had been running Painted Rock with complete immunity, and the first blow at this immunity had been struck by the arrest of Rafe Berry and his sentencing. For Sabre had demanded an immediate trial for Berry, and before anybody had time to cool off and before his friends had a chance to frighten the jury, Rafe Berry was tried and convicted and sentenced to hang.

The first attempt to save him had followed the trial when a note was found by Matt Sabre lying on his bed.

The note told him to see that Berry escaped or die. He not only ignored the note's warning but took added precautions. He double-locked the cell door and carried one key himself.

On the street, he paused, lighting a cigarette and letting his eyes travel slowly along the loafers who were beginning to gather with the ending of day. His eyes hesitated slightly as they reached the walk before Gilbert's Palace. Burt Breidenhart was standing there leaning against an awning post.

He bulked big standing there, and he bulked big in Painted Rock, too. Sabre watched with cold, knowing eyes as men turned across the street to avoid the man. And some of them were tough men. Breidenhart was cruel, vindictive, and dangerous. A brute with his fists, he was also a gunman of sorts. Yet it was his willingness to fight and kill that worried more peaceful men. And Breidenhart had trailed with Rafe Berry.

Matt Sabre turned from his place and walked slowly down the street, purposely walking close to Breidenhart. The big man turned slowly as he neared, and he smiled, his hard eyes dancing with a reckless light.
Hello, marshal!" He said it softly, yet with a certain lifting challenge in his voice.
Hope you ain't all set for that hangin'."

Sabre paused. It doesn't really matter whether I am or not, Burt," he said quietly.
The hanging is scheduled and it will go off on schedule."

"Don't bet on it," Breidenhart said, hitching up his jeans. lust don't you bet on it
.

It would be a safe bet," Sabre said quietly. And then he walked on, feeling Breidenhart's eyes following him. Other eyes followed him too. And then he felt a queer little start. Across the street were three horses, and he knew those horses and knew their riders. Johnny Call was in town!

Darius Gilbert came out of the Emporium with Cobb and Falley. They stopped when they saw him, an
d
Cobb said worriedly,
Matt, things don't look so good. Maybe we made a bad bet
.

His eyes strayed from one to the other of them and rested finally on Nat Falley.
You boys getting the wind up? Nothing to worry about."

-Breidenhart's in town, spoiling for trouble." Gilbert looked over his cigar at Sabre.
You know he doesn't bluff. If he came in, he won't leave without starting something."
h
andle it."

-It isn't that easy," Falley said suddenly, irritably.
We've property to consider. Rafe Berry has fifty friends in this town right now, and they are all armed and ready for trouble. People will be killed and property damaged. If we go through with this hanging, they'll tear the town to pieces."

-And if we don't, they've got us whipped, and they'll know it. They'll bleed the town white. Sorry, but you've got to make a stand somewhere. We've got to show our teeth.

Gilbert cleared his throat and then nodded worriedly.
I suppose you're right, but still-"

-The jury found him guilty; the judge sentenced him." Matt Sabre let his eyes wander off up the street.
Sorry, gentlemen, but that's the way it stands."

-That's easy for you to say!" Cobb burst out.
What about us? What about our property?"

-You'll be protected," Sabre replied shortly.
I'm sorry, gentlemen, but there is something more than your property at stake. I refer to the welfare of the community. We are making a decision here today whether this community is to be ruled by justice and by law or by force and crime." Sabre took a step back.
Good evening, gentlemen!"

Yet as he turned away, he was uneasy. He needed support; one man alone could not stand before a mob. And these three were the town's wealth and power. Among them, they owned everything but the home
s
of the workers in the mines and small claims. Men with wives and families, but with little property and no power.

And Johnny Call was in town. Never forget that, Matt Sabre, he told himself. If you forget that, you die.

Johnny Call was a killer. Scarcely nineteen, utterly vicious, with nine killings behind him. His friends bragged that he was faster than Billy the Kid, that by the time he was twenty-one, he would have more killings chalked up and would still be alive.

Johnny Call had been a friend of Rafe Berry's too. Not that it mattered. Johnny had been hunting an excuse to tackle him, Matt knew. Yet the Johnny Calls of the West were an old story to Matt Sabre of Mobeetie. Matt Sabre of the cattle drives, Matt Sabre who had been Major Sabre and Colonel Sabre in more than one army.

He stopped at the corner, glanced both ways, then turned and started back, taking his time. Suddenly, he cut across the street. Long ago, he had practiced these sudden deviations from the way he appeared to be taking, and to it he probably owed his life on more than one occasion.

He was a tall man, lean in the body and wide in the shoulder. He wore a .44 Russian in the holster on his leg and had another, invisible to the casual eye, thrust behind his waistband under the edge of his coat.

He had known Johnny Call before. He had seen him before and watched his climb up the ladder of gun-slinging fame. Johnny was not yet nineteen, and he had done most of his killing in two years. Four of the dead men had been town marshals, the last one had been the marshal of Painted Rock, who preceded Matt Sabre.

Lights were out now, and the street that had been crowded was about empty. With a curious sense of loss, he realized the men who had voted to hang Rafe Berry were gone on this gold rush. He considered that. . . . Suppose it had been a ruse?

No matter what the reason, they were gone, and what came he must face alone. He walked down to the Empire House and entered. It was the quietest night he had known.

Forcing the jail would not be easy. Jeb Cannon was jailer, and Jeb was a man who knew no compromise with duty. The building was strongly built, carved, in fact, from solid rock. It could be got at only from in front, and Jeb was inside with several rifles, two shotguns, and plenty of ammunition.

Still Breidenhart had seemed very sure of himself. Sabre thought that over and decided he did not like it. The big man would stop at nothing, but the place was invulnerable . . . unless they had a cannon. If a shell exploded against the door . . . Sabre felt a queer sense of premonition go through him, a subtle warning from his subconscious.

Blasting powder!

Quickly, over a cup of coffee, he surveyed the possible places where they might secure it. The store . . . he would have to see Falley and the others and block that. Or one of the claims. That could not be blocked, but there was probably little around. Those on the rush had probably taken their supplies with them
.

Mentally, he reviewed the case against Rafe Berry. The man had shot and killed Plato Zappas, a Greek prospector, and had stolen his poke and his equipment. He had been seen on the road before Zappas's death, and he had been caught trying to sell Zappas's horse and pack mules.

It was given in evidence that he had also sold a horse once known to belong to Ryan, an Irish miner recently murdered. He was utterly vicious. He had laughed when they arrested him. He had laughed at the trial. He had said he had friends, that he would be set free. He had seemed very sure.

Breidenhart? Somehow Matt Sabre did not find that logical. Nor Johnny Call. To set him free against th
e
will of the town would not be easy. It meant somebody of influence.

He shook his head. He was imagining things. Suddenly, he looked up to see Claire Gallatin beside him. "May I join you?" She smiled widely, then sat down. "I'm still hoping to persuade you to help us, you know." Her purse had fallen open, facing him. There was a fat sheaf of bills visible. "I must free my brother."

Matt shook his head. "Sorry. The answer is the same as before."

Her eyes searched his. "You're a strange man, Matt. Tell me about yourself."

"Nothing much to tell." His eyes were faintly humorous as he looked across the table. "I'm past thirty, single, and own a ranch south of here. I've covered a lot of countries and places." He smiled as he said this. "And I've known a lot of women, in Paris, in London, in Vienna and Florence. Twice women got things from me that I shouldn't have given them. Both times were before I was eighteen."

Her eyes chilled a little. "You mean you can't be persuaded now? Is it so wonderful to be hard? To be cold? Do you find it so admirable to be able to refuse a girl who wants to help her only brother to escape death? Is that something of which to be proud?" Her lips trembled. Her chin lifted proudly. "I'll admit, I had little hope, but I'd heard that western men were gallant and that if . . . if they lacked gallantry, they might . . . they might be persuaded by other means." She touched the packet of bills.

"And if that failed?"

"Matt Sabre," she said, her voice low and pleading, "can't you see? I am offering all that I have! Everything! I know it is very little, but-"

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling faintly. "Very little? I think it
is quite a lot. There must
be two thousand dollars in that sheaf of bills!"

"Three thousand."

"And you . . . you're very lovely, very exciting, and you play your role even better than you did when I saw you play in East Lynne. That was last year, in El Paso." Her face stiffened with anger. "You've been laughing at me! Why, you-"

Matt Sabre got up quickly and stepped back. "Laughing at you? Of course not! But this performance has been preposterous. Two days ago, I became marshal. My first official act was to arrest Rafe Berry and bring him to trial. He was convicted. Almost at once you appear and claim to be his sister."