Riders Of the Dawn (1980) (16 page)

He stared hard at me, his knuckles whitening on th e arm of the chair. Suddenly, reluctantly, he grinned. Sinkin g back into his chair, he shrugged. "You ride a man hard , Sabre. All right, peace it is."

'Thanks. Pinder." I thrust out my hand. He hesitate d and then took it.

Katie O'Hara filled his cup.

"Look," he said suddenly, "I've got to make a drive. Th e only way there's water is across Your place."

"What's wrong with that? Drive 'em across, and whatever water your herd needs is yours. Just so it doesn't tak e you more than a week to get 'em across!"

Pinder smiled bleakly, but with humor. "Aw, you kno w it won't take more than a . D
ay!" He subsided into his chair an d started on the coffee.

Jake Booker had been taking it all in, looking from one t o the other of us with his sharp little eyes.

Canaval opened the door and stepped in, looking pal e and drawn, followed by Tom Fox. "Miss Olga could hav e signed for me," he said. "She's the owner."

You sign, too," I insisted. "We want to cover ever y eventuality."

Booker was smiling. He rubbed his lips with his thin , dry fingers. "All nonsense!" he said briskly. "Both the Ba r M and the Two Bar belong to me. I've -filed the papers.

You've twenty-four hours to get off and stay o f "Booker," I said, "has assumed we are fools. He believe d if he could get a flimsy claim he could get us into court an d beat us. Well, this case will never go to court."

Booker's eyes were beady. "Are you threatening me?"

Sheriff Will Tharp came into the room. His eyes reste d on Jake, but he said nothing.

"We aren't threatening," I said. "On what does you r claim to the Bar M stand?"

"Bill of sale," he replied promptly. "The ranch was actually left to Jay Collins, the gunfighter. He was Maclaren'
s brother-in-law. His will left all his property to a nephew, an d I bought it, including the Bar M and all appurtenances thereto!

Canaval gave me a brief
nod." Sorry , Jake. You've los t your money. Jay Collins is not dead."

The lawyer jumped as if slapped. "Not dead? I saw -hi s grave!"

"Booker," I smiled, "look down the table at Jay Collins!"

I pointed to Canaval.

Booker broke into a fever of protest, but I was looking a t Olga Maclaren. She was staring at Canaval, and he wa s smiling.

"Sure, honey," he said. "That's why I knew so muc h about your mother. She was the only person in the world I e ver really loved--until I knew my niece."

Booker was worried now, really worried. In a matter o f minutes half his plan had come to nothing. He was shrew d enough to know we would not bluff and that we had proof o f what we said.

"As for the Two Bar," I added, "don't worry about it.

I've my witnesses that the estate was given me. Not that i t will matter to you."

"What's that? What'd you mean?" Booker stared at me.

"Because you were too greedy. You'll never rob anothe r man, Booker. For murder, you'll hang.-

He protested, but now he was cornered and frightened.

"You killed Rud Maclaren," I told him, and if that's no t enough, you killed one of Slade's men from ambush. We ca n trail your horse to the scene of the crime, and if you think a western jury won't take the word of an Indian tracker, you'r e wrong.

He killed Maclaren?" Canaval asked incredulously.

"He got him out of the house on some trumped-u p excuse--to show him the silver, or to show him something I w as planning--it doesn't matter what excuse was used. H
e shot him and then loaded him on a horse and brought him t o my place. He shot him again, hoping to draw me to th e vicinity, as he wanted my tracks around the body.-

"Lies!" Booker was recovering his assurance. "Sabre ha d trouble with Maclaren, not I. We knew each other only b y sight. The idea that I killed him is preposterous."

He got to his feet. "In any event, what have the ranche s to do with the silver claim of which you speak?"

"Morgan Park found the claim while trailing a man h e meant to murder--Arnold D'Arcy, who knew him as Cantwell.

Arnold had stumbled upon the old mine. Park murdered hi m only to find there was a catch in the deal. D'Arcy had alread y filed on the claim and had done assessment work on it.

Legally, there was no way Park could gain possession, and n o one legally could work the mine until D'Arcy's claim lapsed.

Above all, Park wanted to avoid any public connection wit h the name of D'Arcy. He couldn't sell the claim, because i t wasn't his, but if he could get control of the Bar M and th e Two Bar, across which anyone working the claim must go, h e could sell them at a fabulous price to an unscrupulous buyer.

The new owner of the ranches could work the claim quietly , and by owning the ranches he could deny access to th e vicinity, so it would never be discovered what claims wer e being worked. When D'Arcy's assessment work lapsed, th e claims could be filed upon by the new owners.-

"Booker was to find a buyer?" asked Tharp.

"Yes. Park wanted money, not a mine or a ranch. Booker , I believe, planned to be that buyer himself. He wante d possession of the Bar M, so he decided to murder Ru d Maclaren."

-You've no case against me that would stand in court!"

Booker sneered. You can prove nothing! What witnesses d o you have?"

We had none, of course. Our evidence was a footprint.

All the rest of what I'd said was guesswork. Tharp couldn'
t arrest the man on such slim grounds. We needed a confession.

Tom Fox leaned over the table, his eyes cold. "Some o f us are satisfied. We don't need witnesses an' we don't need t o hear no more. Some of us are almighty sure you killed Ru d Maclaren. Got any arguments that will answer a six-gun? Or a rope?"

Booker's face thinned down, and he crouched back agains t his chair. "You can't do that! The law! Tharp will protect me!"

Sighting a way clear, I smiled. "That might be, Booker!

Confess, and Tharp will protect you! He'll save you for th e law to handle. But if you leave here a free man, you'll be o n your own."

"An' I'll come after you!" Fox said.

"Confess, Booker," I suggested, "and you'll he safe."

"Aw! Turn him loose!" Fox protested angrily. "No nee d to have trouble, a trial an' all! Turn him loose! We all kno w he's a crook, an' we all know he killed Rud Maclaren! Tur n him loose!"

Booker's eyes were haunted with fear. There was n o acting in Tom Fox, and he knew it. The rest of us 'night bluff , but not Fox. The Bar M hand wanted to kill him, and give n an opportunity, he would.

Right then I knew we were going to win. Jake Booke r was a plotter and a conniver, not a courageous man. Hi s mean little eyes darted from Fox to the sheriff. His mout h twitched and his face was wet with sweat. Tom Fox, his han d on his gun, moved relentlessly closer to Booker.

"All right, then!" he screamed. "I did it! I killed Maclaren.

Now, Sheriff, save me from this man!"

I relaxed at last, as Tharp put the handcuffs on Booker.

As they were leaving I said, "What about Park? What happened to him?"

Tharp cleared his throat. "Morgan Park is dead. He wa s killed last night on the Woodenshoe."

We all looked at him, waiting. "That Apache of Pinder'
s killed him," Tharp explained." Park ran for it after he buste d out of jail. He killed his horse crossin' the flats an he run int o the Injun with a fresh horse. He wanted to swap, but th e Apache wouldn't go for the deal, so Park tried to drygulc h him. He should have knowed better. The Injun killed him a n lit out."

"You're positive?" D'Arcy demanded.

Tharp nodded. "Yeah, he died hard, Park did."

The door opened, and Jonathan Benaras was standin g there. "Been scoutin' around," he said. "Bodie Miller's don e took out. He hit the saddle about a half hour back an heade d north out of town."

Bodie Miller gone!

It was impossible. Yet, he had done it. Miller was gone!

I got to my feet. "Good," I said quietly. "I was afraid ther e would be trouble."

Pinder got to his feet. "Don't you trust that Miller," h e said grudgingly. "He's a snake in the grass. You watch out."

So there it was. Pinder was no longer an enemy. Th e fight had been ended, and I could go back to the Two Bar. I s hould feel relieved, and yet I did not. Probably it wa s because I had built myself up for Bodie Miller and nothin g had come of it. I was so ready, and then it had all petered ou t to nothing at all.

Olga had the Bar M and her uncle to run it for her, an d nobody would be making any trouble for Canaval. There wa s nothing for me to do but to go back home.

My horse was standing at the rail, and I walked out t o him and lifted the stirrup leather to tighten the cinch. But I d id not hurry. Olga was standing there in front of the restaurant, and the one thing I wanted most was to talk to her.

When I looked up she was standing there alone.

"You're going back to the Two Bar?" Her voice wa s hesitant.

"Where else? After all, it's my home now."

"Have--have you done much to the house yet?"

"Some." I tightened the cinch and then unfastened th e bridle reins. "Even a killer has to have a home." It wa s rough, and I meant it that way.

She flushed. "You're not holding that against me?"

"What else can I do? You said what you thought, didn'
t you?"

She stood there looking at me, uncertain of what to say , and I let her stand there.

She watched me put my foot in the stirrup and swin g into the saddle. She looked as if she wanted to say something , but she did not. Yet when I looked down at her she was mor e like a little girl who had been spanked than anything else I c ould think of.

Suddenly, I was doing the talking. "Ever start that trousseau I mentioned?"

She looked up quickly. "Yes," she admitted, "but--bu t I'm afraid I didn't get very far with it. You see, there was--"

"Forget it." I was brusque. "We'll do without it. I wa s going to ride out of here and let you stay, but I'll be doubl e damned if I will. I told you I was going to marry you, and I a m. Now listen, trousseau or not, you be ready by tomorro w noon, understand?"

"Yes. All right. I mean--I will."

Suddenly, we were both laughing like fools and I was of f that horse and kissing her, and all the town of Hattan's Poin t could see us. It was right there in front of the cafe, and I c ould see people coming from saloons and standing along th e boardwalks all grinning.

Then I let go of her and stepped back and said, "Tomorrow noon. I'll meet you here." And with that I wheeled m y horse and lit out for the ranch.

Ever feel so good it looks as if the whole world is you r big apple? That was the way I felt. I had all I ever wanted.

Crass, water, cattle, and a home and wife of my own.

The trail back to the Two Bar swung around a huge mes a and opened out on a wide desert flat, and far beyond it I c ould see the suggestion of the stones and pinnacles of badl ands beyond Dry Mesa. A rabbit burst from the brush an d sprinted off across the sage, and then the road dipped dow n into a hollow. There in the middle of the road was Bodi e Miller.

He was standing with his hands on his hips, laughing , and there was a devil in his eyes. Off to one side of the roa d was Red, holding their horses and grinning too.

"Too bad!" Bodie said. "Too bad to cut down the bi g man just when he's ridin' highest, but I'll enjoy it."

This horse I rode was skittish and unacquainted with me.

I'd no idea how he'd stand for shooting, and I wanted to b e on the ground. Suddenly, I slapped spurs to that gelding, an d when the startled animal lunged toward the gunman I wen t off the other side. Hitting the ground running I spun on on e heel and saw Bodie's hands blur as they dove for their guns , and then I felt my own gun buck in my hand. Our bullet s crossed each other, but mine was a fraction the fastest despit e that instant of hesitation when I made sure it would count.

His slug ripped a furrow across my shoulder that stun g like a thousand needles, but my own bullet caught him in th e chest and he staggered back, his eyes wide and agonized.

Then I started forward, and suddenly the devil was up in me.

I was mad, mad as I had never been before. I opened up wit h both guns. "What's the matter?" I was yelling. "Don't yo u like it, gunslick? You asked for it. Now come and get it! Fast , are you? Why you cheap, two-bit gunman, I'll--"

But he was finished. He stood there, a slighter man tha n I was, with blood turning his shirtfront crimson, and with hi s mouth ripped by another bullet. He was white as death.

Even his lips were gray, and against that whiteness was th e splash of blood. In his eyes now there was another look. Th e killing lust was gone, and in its place was an awful terror, fo r Bodie Miller had killed, and enjoyed it with a kind of sadisti c bitterness that was in him--but now he knew he was bein g killed, and the horror of death was surging through him.