Collection 2008 - Big Medicine (v5.0) Read online

  By this time Dornie Shaw must have returned to Mustang with news of his disappearance and, probably, of their murder of the messenger. For he was sure that it had been his own group who had committed the crime. It was scarcely likely that Gunter or Keith would countenance such a thing near town where it would not fail to be seen and reported upon by unfriendly witnesses.

  Returning, he studied the slide to the rim. It was barely possible that a horse might scramble up there. It would be no trick for an active man, and the Appaloosa was probably a mountain horse. It was worth a gamble—if there was no one on top to greet him. Pulling an armful of grass from near the brush and boulders, he returned to the horse, and watched it gratefully munch the rich green grass.

  Connie Duane was disturbed. She had seen the messenger come to her uncle and the others, and had heard their reply. Then, at almost noon the following day, Dornie Shaw and the others had come in, and they had returned without Tom Kedrick. Why that should disturb her she could not have said, but the fact remained that it did. Since he had stepped up on the verandah, she had thought of little else, remembering the set of his chin, the way he carried his shoulders, and the startled expression when he saw her. There was something about him that was different, not only from the men around her uncle, but from any man she had known before. Now, when despite herself she had looked forward to his return, he was missing.

  John Gunter came out on the verandah, nervously biting the end from a cigar. “What happened?” she asked. “Is something wrong? Where’s Captain Kedrick?”

  “Wish I knew!” His voice was sharp with anxiety. “He took a ride to look over those squatters an’ never came back. I don’t trust Shaw, no matter how much Keith does. He’s too bloodthirsty. We could get into a lot of trouble here, Connie. That’s why I wanted Kedrick. He has judgment, brains.”

  “Perhaps he decided he wanted no part of it, Uncle. Maybe he decided your squatters were not outlaws or renegades.”

  Gunter glanced at her sharply. “Who has been talking to you?” he demanded.

  “No one. It hasn’t been necessary. I have walked around town, and I’ve seen some of these outlaws, as you call them, have wives and children, that they buy supplies, and look like nice people. I don’t like it, Uncle John, and I don’t like to think that my money may be financing a part of it.”

  “Now, now! Don’t bother your head over it. You may be sure that Loren and I will do everything we can for your best interests.”

  “Then drop the whole thing!” she pleaded. “There’s no need for it. I’ve money enough, and I don’t want money that comes from depriving others of their homes. They all have a right to live, a chance.”

  “Of course!” Gunter was impatient. “We’ve gone over all this before! But I tell you most of these people are trash, and no matter about that, they all will be put off that land, anyway. The government is going to buy out whoever has control. That will mean us, and that means we’ll get a nice, juicy profit.”

  “From the government? Your own government, Uncle?” Connie studied him coolly. “I fail to understand the sort of man who will attempt to defraud his own government. There are people like that, I suppose, but somehow I never thought I’d find one in my own family.”

  “Don’t be silly, child. You know nothing of business…you aren’t practical.”

  “I suppose not. Only I seem to remember that a lot of worthwhile things don’t seem practical at the moment. No, I believe I’ll withdraw my investment in this deal and buy a small ranch somewhere nearby. I will have no part in it.”

  “You can’t do that!” Gunter exploded impatiently. “Your money is already in, and there’s no way of getting it out until this business is closed. Now, why don’t you trust me like a good girl? You always have before!”

  “Yes, I have, Uncle John, but I never believed you could be dishonest.” She studied him frankly. “You aren’t very happy about this yourself. You know,” she persisted, “those people aren’t going to move without a fight. You believed they could be frightened. Well, they can’t. I’ve seen Bob McLennon, and he’s not the kind of a man who can be frightened. Even by that choice bunch of murderers Loren has gathered together.”

  “They aren’t that. Not murderers,” Gunter protested uneasily, but refused to meet her eyes. “Reckless, yes. And temperamental. Not murderers.”

  “Not even Dornie Shaw? The nice-looking, boyish one who has killed a dozen men and is so cold-blooded and fiendish at times that others are afraid of him? No, Uncle, there is no way you can sidestep this. If you continue, you are going to countenance murder and the killing of innocent people. Loren doesn’t care. He has always been cold-blooded. You’ve wondered why I wouldn’t marry him. That’s why. He has the disposition of a tiger. He would kill anything or anyone that stood in his way. Even you, Uncle John.”

  He started and looked at her uneasily. “Why did you say that?”

  “Because it’s true. I know our tall and handsome man. He will allow nothing to come between him and what he desires. You’ve chosen some choice companions.” She got to her feet. “If you hear anything of Captain Kedrick, let me know, will you?”

  Gunter stood still for a long time after she left. He swore bitterly. Connie was like her mother. She always had the faculty for putting her finger on the truth, and certainly she was right about this. It was beginning to look ugly, but away down deep in his heart he was upset less over Keith than over Burwick. That strange, fat, and dirty man was a thing of evil, of corruption. There was some evil thing within him, something cold and vicious as a striking snake. Connie Duane was not the only person who was disturbed over the strange disappearance of Tom Kedrick.

  Bob McLennon, unofficial commander of the forces for defense, sat in his rambling ranch house on the edge of Yellow Butte. Pete Slagle, Burt Williams, Dai Reid, and Pit Laine were all gathered there. With them was Sue Laine, keeping in the background. Her dark, lively eyes were stirring from one to the other, her ears were alert for every word.

  “Blazes, man!” McLennon said irritably. “Where could he have gone? I’d have sworn he went into that box cañon. There was no other place for him to go, unless he took wings and flew! He had to go in there!”

  “You looked yourself,” Slagle said dryly. “Did you see him? He just ain’t there, that’s all! He got plumb away!”

  “He probably did that,” Dai Reid commented. “A quick man, that Tom Kedrick. Hand or mind, he’s quick.” He drew out his pipe and stoked it slowly. “You shouldn’t have jumped him,” he continued. “I know the lad, an’ he’s honest. If he said that was what he come for, it was the truth he told. I’d take any oath he’d no knowledge of the killin’!”

  “I’d like to believe that,” McLennon agreed. “The man impressed me. We could use an honest man on the other side, one who would temper the wind a bit, or get this thing stopped.”

  “It won’t be that Shaw who stops. He’s a murderin’ little devil,” Slagle said. “He’ll kill like a weasel in a chicken pen until there’s naught left to kill.”

  “Kedrick fought me fair,” Williams said. “I’ll give him that.”

  “He’s a fair man,” Dai persisted. “Since a lad I’ve known him. I’d not be wrong. I’d give fifty acres of my holdin’ for the chance to talk to him.”

  Daylight brought the first attack. It came swiftly, a tight bunch of riders that exploded from the mouth of the arroyo hit the dusty street of Yellow Butte on a dead run, pistols firing, and then the deep, heavy concussion of dynamite. As suddenly as they had come, they were gone. Two men sprawled in the street.

  Peters, the man Shaw had faced down in the street of Mustang, was one of them. He had taken three .44 slugs through the chest and died before he hit the ground. He had made one final effort to win back his self-respect. He had seen Dornie Shaw in the van of the charging riders and rushed into the street to get him. He failed to get off a single shot. The second man down was shot through the thigh and arm. He was a Swede who had just put in
his second crop.

  The riders had planned their attack well and had worked near enough to the guards at the mouth of the arroyo, and at a time when no attack was expected. The one guard awake was knocked down by a charging horse, but miraculously suffered only bruises. Two bundles of dynamite had been thrown. One had exploded against the door of the general store, smashing it off its hinges and tearing up the porch. The sound exploded harmlessly between the buildings.

  The first rattle of rifle fire brought Tom Kedrick to an observation point. He had saddled his horse, hoping for a break, and instantly he saw it. The two guards had rushed in to the scene of action, and he led his horse out of the crevasse, rode at a canter to the cañon’s mouth, and, seeing dust over the town, he swung right and, skirting close to the butte, slipped out into the open, a free man once more.

  VI

  Kedrick did not return to Mustang. He had come this far for a purpose, and he meant to achieve it. Turning west and north, he rode upstream away from Yellow Butte and Mustang. He wanted actually to see some of the homes of which so much had been said. By the way these people lived he could tell the sort they were. It was still and warm in the morning, and after the preliminary escape he slowed his horse to a walk and studied the terrain.

  Certainly nothing could be further from swamp-land, and in that at least the company had misrepresented. Obviously they had misrepresented in maintaining that the land was vacant, but, if the squatters were a shiftless lot, Kedrick knew he would continue his job. Already he was heartily sick of the whole mess, yet he owed Gunter money, and how to pay it back was a bigger problem. And then, although the idea lurked almost unthought in the back of his consciousness, there was Connie Duane.

  In his fast moving and active life he had met many women, and a few had interested him, but none so much as this tall girl with the quiet, interested eyes. His desire to get back to Mustang had nothing to do with the company, but only with her. At the same time, Dornie Shaw had acted without his orders, had slain the messenger, and attacked the town. Of course, they might think him dead.

  Turning due north, he rode though the sagebrush and catclaw toward two towering blue mountains that stood alone this side of the rim that bordered the country to the north. On his left, he saw broken land, and what was evidently a deep arroyo. He swung the Appaloosa over and headed it toward the cañon. Suddenly he reined in.

  On the ground before him were the tracks of a trotting horse, and he recognized them. They were the same tracks left by the strange rider on the grulla mustang that had scouted their approach to Yellow Butte. The tracks were fresh.

  Riding more slowly, he came to the edge of the cañon and looked down at a long, green meadow, fenced and watered by a small stream. At the far side, tucked in a corner, was a stone cottage, at once more attractive and better built than any other he had seen in this section. Ahead of him a trail turned down, so without delay he rode down it and walked his horse across the meadow by a narrow lane, toward the house.

  It was a pleasant place of sandstone blocks and a thatched roof. Shade trees sheltered the yard, and there were a half dozen hens pecking about. In the corral there were several horses. His heart jumped as he saw the grulla, saddled and waiting.

  He drew up in the courtyard and swung down, trailing his reins. The door opened and a girl came out with a pan of water. She started as she saw him, and he recognized her instantly. It was Sue Laine, the girl of the trail, the girl in whom Dornie was reported to be interested.

  “You!” she gasped as she stared at him. “They told me you were dead!”

  He shrugged. “Not dead, just hungry. Could you feed a man?”

  She studied him a minute, then nodded. “Come in. Better tie your horse, though. He’ll head for that meadow if you don’t. And”—her voice was dry—“you may need him. This isn’t exactly friendly country.”

  He tied his horse near the grulla and followed her inside. “Isn’t it?” he said. “Somehow I gathered you weren’t exactly an enemy to the company.”

  “Don’t say that!” she flared. “Don’t ever say that!” Her voice lowered. “Not around here, anyway. If my brother ever heard …”

  So Pit Laine and his sister did not see alike? That was an interesting point. He bathed his hands and face in the basin she left him, then combed his hair. Ruefully he rubbed his chin. “Your brother got a razor? I hate to go unshaven.”

  She brought a razor without comment, and he shaved, then dried his face and hands and walked into the house. It was amazingly neat, and on a side table there were several books. Flowered curtains hung at the windows, and several copper dishes were burnished to brightness. He sat down and she brought him food, beef, eggs, and homemade bread with honey.

  “Everybody’s looking for you,” she said. “Where have you been?”

  He accepted the statement and ignored the question. “After that messenger was killed, I had to get out of Yellow Butte. I did. What’s been happening?”

  “Keith served a final ultimatum. We either move, or they run us out. McLennon refused.”

  “He did right.”

  She turned on him, her eyes questioning. “You think that? I thought you were their man?”

  He looked up from his food, and shook his head. “I don’t know where I stand, but I don’t go for murder, nor for running people out of their homes.”

  “They can’t stay, anyway. If this land becomes a reservation, they will all be moved off. We will, too. They are foolish to fight.”

  “At least, the government will buy their land and pay for their investment. In any event, the company has misrepresented things.”

  “Does it matter?” She sat down opposite him. “They will win. They have money, influence, and power. The settlers here have nothing.” She looked around bitterly. “Perhaps you think I am going against my own people, but that’s not true. These aren’t my people. Pit and I don’t belong here and we never have, although Pit won’t see it. Do you think I want to slave my life away on this desert?” She leaned toward him. “Look, Captain Kedrick, you’re one of them, not just working for them, not just a hired gunman like Dornie Shaw. You can lead the men you have to, and I wouldn’t be surprised but what you could even handle Keith. You could be a big man in this country, or any country. Why be foolish and start thinking like you are? These farmers and ranchers can do nothing for you. They can’t even help themselves. The company will win, and, if you are one of them, you will have a share in the winning. Don’t get foolish, Captain, stay with them, do what you have to do.”

  “There are things more important than money. There’s self-respect.”

  She stared at him, her eyes widening. “You don’t really believe that? Try buying supplies with it, sometime. You won’t get any place. But that isn’t the point. You’ll do what you want, but I want a man who will take me out of this desert.” She got up quickly and came around the table. “You could do it, Captain. You could become rich, right here.”

  He smiled at her. “Ambitious, aren’t you?” “Why not? Being a rancher’s wife doesn’t appeal to me. I want to get away from here, go some place, be something, and enjoy life.” She hesitated, studying him. “You could edge Gunter out of it, and Keith... maybe even Burwick. But the first two would be easy, and I know how.”

  “You do?” He looked up at her. She stood very close to him, and she was smiling down at him. She was, he had to admit, a lovely girl, and an exciting one. Too exciting for comfort right now, and that was a fact she understood completely. “How?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no! That I’d tell you only if you threw in with me, joined me. But this much I’ll tell you… John Gunter is small potatoes. They needed money, and he had that girl’s money, so they roped him in. Keith is dangerous because he is ambitious and unscrupulous, but the man to reckon with is Burwick. He will be top man when this thing is over, and you can bank on it, he has a way figured, all the time!”

  “You seem to know a great deal.”

  “I do.
Men like me, and men talk. They don’t have any idea how much I lead them to say, or how much I remember.”

  “Why tell me all this?”

  “Because you’re the man who can do what has to be done. You could whip that bunch into line. All of them would listen to you, even Dornie Shaw…and he’s suspicious of you.”

  “Of me? Why?”

  “He saw Dai Reid come from your room. He was watching you.”

  So that was it! He had suspected that Shaw had something on his mind. But why had Shaw been watching? What was the little gunman thinking of? And had he reported that conference to Keith?

  Kedrick finished his meal and lighted a cigarette. Ever since their first meeting in the desert, this girl had puzzled him. He was inclined to doubt if any girl, reared as she must have been, could be so sincerely disdaining of all loyalty and so plainly self-seeking. And this girl was scarcely more than a child, slim, brown, and lovely, with her quick, measuring eyes and her soft lips. Now, she seemed to have selected him for the man who was to take her away from the desert. But how many others had the same idea? And then, he had no idea of leaving the desert.

  “Your brother around?” he asked.

  Her glance was a quick flash of alarm. “You don’t want to see him, or talk to him. You’d better get out of here.”

  “On the contrary, Sue, I’d like to talk to Pit. I’ve heard about him and I’d like to know him.”

  “You’d better go,” she warned. “He’ll be back soon, and some of that Yellow Butte crowd may be with him.”

  “You mean he’s not here? Then whose horse is that out there? That grulla?”

  Her face was strange as she shook her head. “You’ll think I’m a liar, but I don’t know. I never saw the rider.”

  His eyes searched hers. He could see nothing but sincerity there, sincerity and a little fear. “You mean that horse showed up there, tied like that? And you never saw the rider?”