The H&R Cattle Company (29 page)

“Eldon Mays,” Human said with a sigh after Joe Brown had finished the story. “That sonofabitch. Jolly had to threaten to kick his ass a time or two in order to get any work out of him, and after that happened, Mays pretty well kept to himself.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I didn't think anything about it at the time, but now I remember Jolly talking about how quick Mays got out of Dodge City after he was paid.” He shook his head a few times. “Just wait till Jolly hears about this.”

None of the now dead men had moved after hitting the ground. Ballinger had been shot in the head, while Peel and Tate had been shot through the heart. Hunter pointed to the bodies and spoke to Human: “I owe you, Bob, and I won't be forgetting it.”

Human shook his head. “You don't owe me anything, Zack. I acted in self-defense.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “Them sonsofbitches could have got that money if they'd gone about it right. All they had to do was hide along the road somewhere and gun us down. Like this man says, they'd just now found out that we were on the road and seen that we were about to get ahead of them.

“They didn't have time to ride ahead of us and lay an ambush, so their only chance was to ride down the slope and block the road. I don't know why and I don't know how, Zack, but I knew what the bastards were up to the second they rode out of them cedars up yonder.”

“I can easily believe that,” Zack said, beginning to uncoil his forty-foot rope, “'cause you were certainly ready for them.”

After cutting the rope to the necessary lengths, they tied the body of each of the dead men onto the back of his own horse, then picked up the four six-guns that still lay in the road. Joe Brown had dropped his gun when ordered to do so, and Ballinger's Colt had slid from his holster as he fell from the saddle. Peel and Tate had each drawn his own gun when the shooting started, but neither had lived to fire it.

After tying Joe Brown's hands behind him, Hunter tied his legs beneath the belly of his horse. Moments later, with each man leading two horses, Hunter and Human headed for Lampasas at a walking pace.

Two hours later, they rode down Main Street. Several men walked or rode alongside the horses asking questions, but received no answers. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone, both Hunter and Human continued to ride toward the sheriff's office.

Sheriff Pope was easy enough to find, for he was outside his office about to mount his horse when the two men rode up. As soon as Pope recognized the men from County Line Ranch and his eyes had taken in the horses carrying the dead men, he retied his mount to the hitching rail. “I can see what you've got there, Mister Hunter,” he said, beginning to walk around the horses. “Now I'd like to hear the story.”

Zack had not dismounted. “They tried to rob us out on County Line Road,” he said, nodding toward the dead men. “Three of 'em paid a stiff price.” He pointed to Brown. “This bastard here claims his name is Joe Brown. He was in on the plan right from the beginning, and he'll tell you the whole story.” He turned in the saddle, looking the prisoner squarely in the eye. “You will tell the sheriff the whole story, won't you?”

Brown nodded. “Ain't got nothin' ta lose. Not now.”

Pope did not speak again until he had finished walking around the horses and inspected each of the corpses. “Don't recognize but one of them,” he said finally. “Ballinger's had it coming for a long time, and this certainly ain't the first time he's got it in his head to rob somebody.” The sheriff untied Brown's legs and helped him from the saddle. “Come along, Mister Brown,” he said, taking the man's arm and leading him up the steps toward the office. “I'm just dying to hear your tale of woe.” He spoke to Zack, who had still not dismounted. “I'll be needing you and Mister Human to witness the confession, Mister Hunter.”

Zack shook his head. “I'll have to do it later, Sheriff. I just sold a herd of cattle and I've got to get to the bank before it closes.”

Pope smiled, then chuckled aloud. “By God, if I had that kind of money, I'd be anxious to get to the bank, too. Go ahead, we'll wait for you.”

When Zack returned to the sheriff's office forty minutes later, Bret Rollins sat on the porch. “I just heard about you bringing in some dead men,” he said, getting to his feet. “I was over at the White Horse shooting pool when Jim Whaley came in with the news.” He pointed toward the sheriff's office with his thumb. “Bob pretty well filled me in on what happened.”

Zack handed Rollins the receipt for the bank deposit. “This is what they were after, Bret. Eldon Mays sold us out.”

“So I've been told,” Rollins said. He glanced at the receipt, then handed it back to Zack. He stood staring down the street for a while, then spoke again: “I've seen Mays more than once lately, so he's still around town. You want me to hunt him up and kill him?”

Zack shook his head. “No, but I would like to get my hands on him before the sheriff does. Pope'll treat him too damn nice.” He pointed toward the office. “We'll talk about it some more in a few minutes. Right now, I've got to witness Brown's confession.”

“I already did that for you, Zack. All the sheriff wanted was a witness to what was said. Brown confessed to the whole thing, and Pope put him in leg irons and locked him in a cell. The sheriff ain't in the office right now anyway. He left Deputy Hillman in charge and trotted his horse off down the street. Deputy Morse rode off right behind him.

“I figure Pope's gone hunting Eldon Mays, and if he don't find him before Bob Human does, the grave diggers'll have one more hole to dig.”

“Human's hunting Mays?”

“Didn't say so, but he sure had that kind of expression on his face when he left here.”

Zack was already untying his horse's reins from the hitching rail. “Let's go,” he said.

Rollins had noticed that both Pope and Human had ridden down Main Street, and he did not believe that they would find Eldon Mays there. Mays' hangout was the Twin Oaks Saloon, located well off the beaten path on a short street that nobody had bothered to name. The ride to the Twin Oaks took less than five minutes.

Only two horses were tied at the hitching rail, and both Hunter and Rollins recognized the long-legged buckskin as Mays' mount. They tied their own horses and walked through the batwing doors side by side. A man was seated alone at the far end of the bar, and Eldon Mays sat on a stool closer to the door, engaged in a conversation with owner and bartender Jake Smith.

When Mays turned his attention to the newcomers, he found that he was staring into the barrel of Rollins' Colt. Keeping the gun pointed between Mays' eyes, Rollins walked forward and jerked the man's gun out of its holster, tucking it behind his own waistband. Then he turned to Hunter, saying, “He's all yours, Zack.”

Hunter handed his own Colt to Rollins, then jerked Mays off the stool, elbowing him in the mouth at the same time. Mays fell over a table but regained his feet quickly. Then he began to give a fair accounting of himself, proving very quickly that he was a much better fighter than Rollins had suspected. Nevertheless, Rollins was confident of the outcome. He turned his back to the fight, took a seat on a stool and ordered a beer, knowing that the conflict would end just like all the rest of the fights in which Zack Hunter was involved.

The tussle ended just as suddenly as it had begun, and Rollins turned his head to see Zack standing over the unconscious Mays. Then Zack walked to the bar. He had one shaded eye, a few bruises around his chin, and a single drop of blood fell from the corner of his mouth. “Give me a beer, Jake,” he said. When the bartender complied, Zack walked across the room and took a seat at a table beside the unconscious man. He began to sip his beer and appeared to be waiting for Mays to regain consciousness so he could beat him some more.

Zack's full intent would never be known, for at that moment, Sheriff Pope and Deputy Morse walked through the door. Pope spotted Mays' feet and legs, which were well out into the aisle and in plain view. He was there quickly. “I see you found your man before I could, Mister Hunter. Is he still alive?”

Zack nodded. “Think so.”

The sheriff was soon bathing Mays' face with a wet towel. Twenty minutes later, aboard his own buckskin, Eldon Mays was being led to jail, charged with attempted murder and attempted robbery.

After Rollins had filled Smith in on the day's happenings, the saloon owner set a bottle of his best whiskey on the bar. Hunter and Rollins were later joined by Bob Human, and the three sat drinking till late in the night.

19

When the Twin Oaks Saloon closed at midnight, Bob Human headed for the ranch, insisting that he preferred riding during the last few hours before daybreak. Not so with Hunter. He followed Rollins home, loosed his horse in Rollins' corral, then helped himself to the extra bed.

He could see daylight around the edges of the window shade when he opened his eyes next morning. He sat on the side of the bed stretching and yawning for a while, then walked to the kitchen. He kindled a fire in the stove, put on the coffeepot and reseated himself on the bed to await the coffee.

It was then that Zack noticed a large envelope lying on the small table next to the bed. He absentmindedly picked it up and read its face, then laid it back down with a chuckle. He sat shaking his head, wondering what kind of scheme Rollins was up to this time. The oversized letter had come from a Chicago firm and was addressed to “Doctor” Bret Rollins.

Zack was still sitting on the bed when Rollins, already fully dressed, walked into the room. After a cheerful greeting, Rollins moved the table farther away from the bed, as if to get it out of Zack's way. Then he quickly picked up the letter and carried it to his bedroom.

Though Zack knew that he himself would get a good laugh out of knowing what was in the letter, he would never mention it to Bret. The obvious fact that Bret had some kind of scheme going in which it was advantageous to pass himself off as a doctor surprised Zack not in the least. It had long been that way with Bret; even as a schoolboy, he had always had something in the works.

And whether that something was honest or dishonest had been of little concern to young Bret. Zack knew of one incident in particular when a deputy sheriff had collared him on the school playground and carried him home to his grandfather. Bret and one of his young friends had recently canvassed farmhouses all over the area, soliciting cash donations to buy flowers for a well-known lady who had supposedly been confined to the local hospital for more than a week. The boys' pockets soon jingled with coin, and they laughed a lot.

Their scheme came to an abrupt halt when they told their story to a woman who had talked with the lady in question only two days before and knew her to be as healthy as a horse. The county sheriff was notified at once, and he quickly dispatched the deputy to the schoolhouse. Bret was easy to find, especially since the woman making the complaint had identified one of the culprits as “that blond-haired Rollins kid.”

Zack walked to the corral and fed the horses while Bret busied himself making breakfast. As they sat down to the table a short time later, Zack discovered why Bret had volunteered to make breakfast instead of eating at one of the restaurants, as they usually did. Bret had wanted to show off his newly acquired skill at making biscuits. Zack eyed the pan with appreciation, knowing that Toby's T-Bone turned out none better. He dumped some jelly onto his plate, then buttered himself a few of the hot biscuits. “Now that you've learned to cook this good, I don't suppose you'll ever get married.”

“Aw, I suppose I will someday,” Rollins said, speaking around a mouthful of ham. “I sure won't be getting married till after you do, though.”

Zack chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. “Why in the world do you say that, Bret?”

“Why?” Rollins dropped his fork in his plate. “Hell, Zack, look at how many years we've been running loose together. A man don't take that lightly, my friend.”

Zack stared at his plate for a moment. “No,” he said, “I guess not.” He knew that Bret Rollins might very well be the only true friend he had in the world; that aside from Bret's rough edges and the fact that their ideas of morals and scruples were worlds apart, Rollins loved him like a brother and would not hesitate to lay his life on the line if Zack were in trouble. Indeed, Zack suspected that most men lived and died without ever having a friend who would side them when the chips were truly down, and he knew that he had such a friend in Bret.

Zack finished his breakfast and carried his empty plate to the dishpan. “I've had an idea for several months now, Bret,” he said, reseating himself at the table. “I think we should fence the ranch with barbed wire. Not only will it save us money on the payroll, but with some cross-fencing, it'll completely eliminate overgrazing.”

Rollins spoke quickly: “I've thought of the same thing, Zack, and I believe you're right on both counts.” He got to his feet and began to walk around the room. “But I think we should wait till next spring. You see, County Line Ranch is gonna be a whole lot bigger by then. Clyde Post is chomping at the bit to have at me in another poker game, and I intend to nail his ass to the cross long before springtime. Each time he's asked me about another game, I've begged off, wanting to let him stew a while longer.

“I saw him last week and told him I was ready to play, but he had to attend a cattle auction in Fort Worth. I won't rush it, Zack; my time will come. After the fall roundup is over, there won't be much else to do but play poker.” He poured a cup of coffee and reseated himself at the table. “I'll tangle with Post in a no-limit game before the winter's over. The game might last a week, but I'll wait however long I have to for just the right hand. When I get him where I want him, I'll show no mercy. When I get done with Clyde Post, the H and R Cattle Company will be the biggest thing in this part of Texas.”