The Lawless West Read online

  It was little enough, but a hint. I left the assayer’s report but pocketed the letter. The long ride had tired me, for my wounds, while much improved, had robbed me of strength. Dousing the candle, I returned it to its shelf. And then I heard a low mutter of voices and steps on the stair.

  Backing swiftly, I glanced around and saw a closed door that must lead to an inner room. Stepping through it, I closed it just in time. It was a room used for storage. Voices sounded and a door closed. A match scratched, and light showed under the door. “Nonsense! Probably got in some drunken brawl! You’re too suspicious, Morgan.”

  “Maybe, but the man worries me. He rides too much, and he may get to nosing around and find something.”

  “Did you see Lyell before he died?”

  “No. He shot first, though. Some fool saw him take a bead on somebody. This other fellow followed it up and killed him.”

  The crabbed voice of Booker interrupted. “Forget him. Forget Sabre. My men are lined up and they have the cold cash ready to put on the line! We haven’t any time for child’s play! I’ve done my part and now it’s up to you! Get Sabre out of the way and get rid of Maclaren!”

  “That’s not so easy,” Park objected stubbornly. “Maclaren is never alone, and, if anybody ever shot at him, he’d turn the country upside down to find the man. And after he is killed, the minute we step in, suspicion will be diverted to us.”

  “Nonsense!” Booker replied irritably. “Nobody knows we’ve had dealings. They’ll have to settle the estate and I’ll step in as representative of the buyers. Of course, if you were married to the girl, it would simplify things. What’s the matter? Sabre cutting in there, too?”

  “Shut up!” Park’s voice was ugly. “If you ever say a thing like that again, I’ll wring you out like a dirty towel, Booker. I mean it.”

  “You do your part,” Booker said, “and I’ll do mine. The buyers have the money and they are ready. They won’t wait forever.”

  A chair scraped and Park’s heavy steps went to the door and out. There was a faint squeak of a cork twisting in a bottleneck, the gargle of a poured drink, then the bottle and glass returned to the shelf. The light vanished and a door closed. Then footsteps grated on the gravel below. Only a minute behind him, I hurried from the vicinity, then paused, sweating despite the cool air. Thinking of what I’d heard, I retrieved my horse and slipped quietly out of town. Bedded down among the clustering cedars, I thought of that, and then of Olga, the daughter of Maclaren, of her soft lips, the warmth of her arms, the quick proud lift of her chin.

  Coming home to Cottonwood Wash and the Two Bar with the wind whispering through the greasewood and rustling the cottonwood leaves, I kept a careful watch but saw nobody until Mulvaney himself stepped into sight.

  “Had any trouble?” I asked him.

  “Trouble? None here,” he replied. “Some men came by, but the sound of my Spencer drove them away again.” He walked to the door. “There’s grub on the table. How was it in Silver Reef?”

  “A man killed.”

  “Be careful, lad. There’s too many dying.”

  When I had explained, he nodded. “Do they know it was you?”

  “I doubt it.” It felt good to be back on my own place again, seeing the whitefaced cattle browsing in the pasture below, seeing the water flowing to irrigate the small garden we’d started.

  “You’re tired.” Mulvaney studied me. “But you look fit. You’ve thrown a challenge in the teeth of Park. You’ll be backing it up?”

  “Backing it up?” My eyes must have told what was in me. “That’s one man I want, Mulvaney. He had me down and beat me, and I’ll not live free until I whip him or he whips me fair.”

  “He’s a power of man, lad. I’ve seen him lift a barrel of whiskey at arm’s length overhead. It will be a job to whip him.”

  “Ever box any, Mulvaney? You told me you’d wrestled Cornish style.”

  “What Irishman hasn’t boxed a bit? Is it a sparrin’ mate you’re wantin’? Sure ’n’ it would be good to get the leather on my maulies again.”

  For a week we were at it, every night we boxed, lightly at first, then faster. He was a brawny man, a fierce slugger, and a powerful man in the clinches. On the seventh day we did a full thirty minutes without a break. And in the succeeding days my strength returned and my speed grew greater. The rough-and-tumble part of it I loved. Nor was I worried about Morgan’s knowing more tricks than I—the waterfronts are the place to learn the dirty side of fighting. I would use everything I’d learned there, if Morgan didn’t fight fair.

  It was after our tenth session with the gloves that Mulvaney stripped them off and shook his head admiringly. “Faith, lad, you’ve a power of muscle behind that wallop of yours. That last one came from nowhere and I felt it clean to my toes. Never did I believe a man lived that could hit like that.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m ridin’ to town tomorrow.”

  “To fight him?”

  “No, to see the girl, Olga Maclaren, to buy supplies, and perhaps to ride him a little. I want him furious before we fight. I want him mad…mad and wild.”

  He nodded wisely at me. “It’ll help, for no man can fight unless he keeps his head. But be careful, lad. Remember they are gunnin’ for you, an’ there’s nothin’ that would better please them than to see you dead on the ground.”

  When the buckskin was watered, I returned him to the hitch rail and walked into the saloon. Hattan’s Point knew that Lyell was dead, but they had no idea who had done it. Key Chapin was the first man I met, and I looked at him, wondering on which side he stood.

  He looked at me curiously and motioned toward the chair across the table from him. Dropping into it, I began to build a smoke. “Well, Sabre, you’re making quite a name for yourself.”

  I shrugged. “That’s not important. All I want is a ranch.”

  “All?”

  “And a girl.”

  “One may be as hard to get as the other.”

  “Maybe. Anyway, I’ve made a start on the ranch. In fact, I have the ranch and intend to keep it.”

  “Heard about Lyell?”

  “Killed, wasn’t he? Somewhere west of here?”

  “At Silver Reef. It’s a peaceful, quiet place in spite of being a boomtown. And they have a sheriff over there who believes in keeping it peaceful. They tell me he is working hard to find out who killed Lyell.”

  “It might be anybody. There was a rumor that he was one of the men in the raid on the Ball Ranch.”

  “And which you promised to bury on the spot.”

  What this was building to I did not know, but I was anxious to find out just where Chapin stood. He would be a good friend to have, and a bad enemy, for his paper had a good deal of influence around town.

  “You told me when I first came here that the town was taking sides. Which is your side?”

  He hesitated, toying with his glass. “That’s a harder question to answer since you came,” he replied frankly. “I will say this. I am opposed to violence. I believe now is the time to establish a peaceful community, and I believe it can be done. For that reason I am opposed to the CP outfit whose code is violence.”

  “And Maclaren?”

  He hesitated again. “Maclaren can be reasoned with at times. Stubborn, yes, but only because he has an exaggerated view of his own rightness. It is not easy to prove him wrong, but it can be done.”

  “And Park?”

  He looked at me sharply, a cool, measuring glance as if to see what inspired the remark. Then he said: “Morgan Park is generally felt to see things as Maclaren does.”

  “Is that your opinion?”

  He did not answer me, frowning as he stared out the door. Key Chapin was a handsome man, and an able one. I could understand how he felt about law and order. Basically I agreed with him, but when I’m attacked, I can’t take it lying down.

  “Look, Chapin”—I leaned over the table—“I’ve known a dozen frontier towns tougher than this one. To eac
h came law and order, but it took a fight to get them. The murderers, cheats, and swindlers must be stamped out before the honest citizens can have peace. And it’s peace that I’m fighting for. You, more than anybody else, can build the situation to readiness for it with your paper. Write about it. Get the upright citizens prepared to enforce it, once this battle is over.”

  He nodded, then glanced at me. “What about you? You’re a gunfighter. In such a community there is no place for such a man.”

  That made me grin. “Chapin, I never drew a gun on a man in my life who didn’t draw on me first, or try to. And while I may be a gunfighter, I’m soon to be a rancher and a solid citizen. Count on me to help.”

  “Even to stopping this war?”

  “What war? Ball had a ranch. He was a peaceful old man who wanted no trouble from anyone, but he was weaker than the Bar M or the CP, so he died. He turned the ranch over to me on the condition that I keep it. If protecting one’s property is war, then we’ll have it for a long time.”

  “You could sell out.”

  “Run? Is that what you mean? I never ducked out of a good fight yet, Chapin, and never will. When they stop fighting me, I’ll hang up my guns. Until then, I shall continue to fight.” Filling my glass, I added: “Don’t look at the overall picture so long that you miss the details.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look for motives. What are the origins of this fight? I’d start investigating the participants, and I mean neither Maclaren nor Pinder.” Getting up, I put my hat on my head and added: “Ever hear of a man named Booker at Silver Reef? A lawyer?”

  “He’s an unmitigated scoundrel, and whatever he does he’s apt to get away with. If there’s a loophole in the law he doesn’t know, then nobody knows it.”

  “Then find out why he’s interested in this fight and, when the Slade boys drift into this country, ask yourself why they are here. Also, ask yourself why Morgan Park is meeting Booker in secret.”

  Olga was not in town, so I turned the buckskin toward the Bar M. A cowhand with one foot bandaged was seated on the doorstep when I rode up. He stared, his jaw dropping.

  “Howdy,” I said calmly, taking out the makings. “I’m visiting on the ranch and don’t want any trouble. As far as you boys are concerned, I’ve no hard feelings.”

  “You’ve no hard feelin’s! What about me? You durned near shot my foot off!”

  I grinned at him. “Next time you’ll stay under cover. Anyway, what are you gripin’ about? You haven’t done a lick of work since it happened!”

  Somebody chuckled. I looked around and saw Canaval. “I reckon he did it on purpose, Sabre.”

  “Excuse?” the injured man roared. Disgusted, he rose and limped off.

  “What you want here, Sabre?” Canaval asked, still smiling.

  “Just visiting.”

  “Sure you’re welcome?”

  “No, I’m not sure. But if you’re wondering if I came looking for trouble, I didn’t. If trouble comes to me on this ranch now, it will be because I’m pushed and pushed hard. If you’re the guardian angel of peace, just relax. I’m courtin’.”

  “Rud won’t take kindly to that. He may have me order you off.”

  “All right, Canaval, if he does, and you tell me to go, I’ll go. Only one thing…you keep Park off me. I’m not ready for him, and, when it comes, I’d rather she didn’t see it.”

  “Fair enough.” He tossed his cigarette into the yard. “You’ll not be bothered under those circumstances. Only”—he grinned and his eyes twinkled—“you might be wrong about Olga. She might like to see you tangle with Park.”

  Starting up the steps, I remembered something. “Canaval!”

  He turned sharply, ready on the instant.

  “A friendly warning,” I said. “Some of the people who don’t like me also want your boss out of here. To get him out, you have to go first. If you hear of the Slades in this country, you’ll know they’ve come for you and your boss.”

  His eyes searched mine. “The Slades?”

  “Yeah, for you and Maclaren. Somebody is saving me for dessert.”

  He was standing there, looking after me, when I knocked. Inside a voice answered that set my blood pounding. “Come in!”

  Chapter 7

  As I entered, there was an instant when my reflection was thrown upon the mirror beside hers. Seeing my gaze over her shoulder, she turned, and we stood there, looking at ourselves in the mirror—a tall, dark young man in a dark blue shirt, black silk neckerchief, black jeans, and tied-down holsters with their walnut-stocked guns, and Olga in a sea-green gown, filmy and summery-looking.

  She turned quickly to face me. “What are you doing here? My father will be furious!”

  “He’ll have to get over it sometime, and it might as well be right now.”

  She searched my face. “You’re still keeping up that foolish talk? About marrying me?”

  “It isn’t foolish. Have you started buying your trousseau?”

  “Of course not!”

  “You’d better. You’ll need something to wear, and I won’t have much money for a year or two.”

  “Matt”—her face became serious—“you’d better go. I’m expecting Morgan.”

  I took her hands. “Don’t worry. I promised Canaval there would be no trouble, and there will be none, no matter what Morgan Park wants to do or tries to do.”

  She was unconvinced and tried to argue, but I was thinking how lovely she was. Poised, her lovely throat bare, she was something to set a man’s pulses pounding.

  “Matt!” She was angry now. “You’re not even listening! And don’t look at me like that!”

  “How else should a man look at a woman? And why don’t we sit down? Is this the way you receive guests at the Bar M? At the Two Bar we are more thoughtful.”

  “So I’ve heard,” she said dryly. Her anger faded. “Matt? How do you feel? I mean those wounds? Are they all right?”

  “Not all right, but much better. I’m not ready for Morgan Park yet, but I will be soon. He won’t be missed much when he’s gone.”

  “Gone?” She was surprised. “Remember that I like Morgan.”

  “Not very much.” I shrugged. “Yes, gone. This country isn’t big enough to hold both of us even if you weren’t in it.”

  She sat down opposite me and her face was flushed a little. She looked at me, then looked away, and neither of us said anything for a long minute. “It’s nice here,” I said at last. “Your father loves this place, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, only I wish he would be content and stop trying to make it bigger.”

  “Men like your father never seem to learn when they have enough.”

  “You don’t talk like a cowhand, Matt.”

  “That’s because I read a book once.”

  “Key told me you had been all over the world. He checked up on you. He said you had fought in China and South Africa.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “How did you happen to come West?”

  “I was born in the West, and then I always wanted to return to it and have a ranch of my own, but there wasn’t anything to hold me down, so I just kept on drifting from place to place. Staying in one place did not suit me unless there was a reason to stay, and there never was…before.”

  Tendrils of her dark hair curled against her neck. The day was warm, and I could see tiny beads of perspiration on her upper lip. She stood up suddenly, uneasily. “Matt, you’d better go. Father will be coming and he’ll be furious.”

  “And Morgan Park will be coming. And it doesn’t matter in the least whether they come or not. I came here to see you, and, as long as they stay out of the way, there’ll be no trouble.”

  “But, Matt…” She stepped closer to me, and I took her by the elbows. She started to step back, but I drew her to me swiftly. I took her chin and turned her head slightly. She resisted, but the continued pressure forced her chin to come around. She looked at me then, her eyes wide and more
beautiful than I would ever have believed eyes could be, and then I kissed her.

  We stood there, clinging together tightly, and then she pulled violently away from me. For an instant she looked at me, and then she moved swiftly to kiss me again, and we were like that when hoofs sounded in the yard. Two horses.

  We stepped apart, but her eyes were wide and her face was pale when they came through the door, her breast heaving and her white teeth clinging to her lower lip. They came through the door, Rud Maclaren first, and then Morgan Park, dwarfing Maclaren in spite of the fact that he was a big man. When they saw me, they stopped.

  Park’s face darkened with angry blood. He started toward me, his voice hoarse with fury. “Get out! Get out, I say!”

  My eyes went past him to Maclaren. “Is Park running this place, or are you? It seems to me he’s got a lot of nerve, ordering people off the place of Rud Maclaren.”

  Maclaren flushed. He didn’t like my being there, but he disliked Park’s usurping of authority even more. “That’ll do, Morgan! I’ll order people out of my own home!”

  Morgan Park’s face was ugly at that minute, but, before he could speak, Canaval appeared in the door. “Boss, Sabre said he was visitin’, not huntin’ trouble. He said he would make no trouble and would go when I asked him. He also said he would make no trouble with Park.”

  Before Maclaren could reply, Olga said quickly: “Father, Mister Sabre is my guest. When the time comes, he will leave. Until then, I wish him to stay.”

  “I won’t have him in this house!” Maclaren said angrily. He strode to me, the veins in his throat swelling. “Damn you, Sabre! You’ve a gall to come here after shootin’ my men, stealin’ range that rightly belongs to me, an’ runnin’ my cattle out of Cottonwood Wash!”

  “Perhaps,” I admitted, “there’s something in what you say, but I think we have no differences we can’t settle without fighting. Your men came after me first. I never wanted trouble with you, Rud, and I think we can reach a peaceful solution.”

  It took the fire out of him. He was still truculent, still wanting to throw his weight around, but mollified. Right then I sensed the truth about Rud Maclaren. It was not land and property he wanted so much as to be known as the biggest man in the country. He merely knew of no way to get respect and admiration other than through wealth and power.