The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour: Vol 3 Part 16

Wiley Dunn stiffened. "No. Anyway, the price is off. We'd lose money to sell now."

Ollie Herndon said nothing. Gunman he might be, but he was also a cattleman. It was hard to sell when prices were down, yet better to sell now while they had beef on their bones than to let them lose weight. But he knew better than to make suggestions. Wiley Dunn had always had a fixation on numbers.

"If we had that Lonetree place it would help," he suggested. "You give me the word and I'll tackle Tanner."

Dunn waited while a man might have counted ten, staring out over the long brown miles of his range. He was wishing this affair had never come up. The expression in the eyes of Tanner's pretty wife had hurt him more than he would have admitted to anyone. He had grown more sensitive, he reflected, as he grew older. And if he faced Tanner now there would be no telling the outcome. If he died, what good would all these vast acres be? And if Tanner died, what would become of that lovely girl?

"No," he said finally, "not yet."

He saw nothing of Tanner. Twice he rode up the valley, keeping well out of sight, and another time he rode along a ridge overlooking the place from a distance. Lonetree was more lovely than he remembered it. There had always been water there, but now there were long, perfectly lined rows of planted crops, and over against the far side there was a field of alfalfa, or what seemed to be alfalfa. Tanner was no fool. He had a good thing there. He stared at the hay. Yet that was a lot of feed for the stock he had ... suspicion leaped into his mind.

Had Tanner turned to rustling? Had he, like other nesters in the past, started stealing cattle? Suppose he had a small herd of Hat cattle that he was secretly fattening? With sudden decision, Dunn turned away. This was the explanation. There could be no other.

In the stone house against the cliff Morgan Tanner looked across the table at his wife. "Honey, I've been thinking. If we had us a Jersey bull now, a right Bne Jersey from good milk stock, we might cross-breed those heifers into better milkers in a few seasons."

Ann Tanner looked at him thoughtfully. "You want to use that money Uncle Fred left us? Is that it?"

"It's your decision. It's up to you and Johnny. He was your uncle."

"But he left it to all of us! What do you think, Johnny?"

"I've been thinking about it, Sis. Morg never spoke of it before, but it's been in my mind. There's a market for milk and b.u.t.ter down at Algosa. This country has plenty of beef."

"All right," Ann agreed. "Buy a bull whenever you can find one you want."

"I'll go into town tomorrow," he said.

Morgan Tanner reached town at ten the following morning, and a few minutes earlier Wiley Dunn, Ollie Herndon, and twelve Hat hands swept down on the Lonetree ranch. It had been shrewdly planned, for Ollie had been watching the ranch with gla.s.ses and had seen the boy ride off on some mission. Instantly he was down off the ridge and they were riding. There was no one about when they rode into the yard.

Dunn shouted and, white-faced, Ann Tanner came to the door. "Just what is it you want, Mr. Dunn? Have you taken to fighting women now?"

His face flushed but his jaw was set. "I'm fighting no one, but we've come to search the range! That d.a.m.n no-good husband of yours has taken to rustling cows. We seen some of them."

"We have no cattle but our own! Now I am ordering you to get off this place at once!" She turned quickly to grasp the shotgun, but Herndon leaped from his horse and caught the barrel as she was swinging it up. He wrenched it roughly from her hands.

"Right purty, ain't you? Maybe you could do with a good man after we string up that husband of yours!"

She slapped him across the mouth and Herndon struck her. She had stepped back, but the blow caught her on the forehead and knocked her down.

"Ollie!" Dunn was white-faced with anger. "For G.o.d's sake, man! Get into your saddle now, and be d.a.m.ned quick about it. I'll have no man strike a woman in my presence!" He pointed. "Get into your saddle, do you hear?"

Turning to Ann he said, "Sorry, ma'am, but you shouldn't have reached for that gun."

"And let you steal our cattle. You're asking for trouble, Mr. Dunn. You don't know Morgan as I do. Morgan Turner's mother was a Lowry, from the Neuces country. You may remember what happened to the Fullers."

Wiley Dunn stared at her, shocked. Every detail of the twenty-five year feud was known to everybody in cattle country. The Fullers, or some people who called themselves that, had killed a Lowry boy in an argument over horses, and every Fuller had died.

Suddenly, with startling clarity, he remembered the scene from years before. He himself had witnessed the final shoot-out. He had been visiting in Texas, planning to buy cattle, and four of the Fuller outfit had cornered two Lowrys, Bill Lowry and some youngster of sixteen or seventeen. They had shot Bill Lowry in the back, and then the kid turned on them. The boy had drawn as he turned, a flashing, beautifully timed draw. Ed Fuller caught the first bullet in his mid-section as the boy fired. Thirty seconds later the youngster was in the saddle, riding out of town, leaving three Fullers dead and another dying.

Now, suddenly, the face of that boy merged with that of Morgan Tanner. Of course! That was why there had always been something disturbingly familiar about the man. There was no turning back now.

"I'll stay here, Pete. The rest of you scatter out and find the cattle. When you find them, drive them out here."

"Those are not your cattle. We bought and paid for them."

Ollie Herndon did not leave. "Boss, let me go get him. I want him."

"Don't be a fool!"

Dunn was worried and his temper was short. "That's the sheriff's job."

He paused. "Anyway, you're not in his cla.s.s. Morgan Tanner is the one they used to call the Lowry kid."

"Aw, I don't believe it! Why, that -- !"

"Mr. Dunn is right," Ann Tanner replied, "and when he learns what you have done, he will kill you. I wish you would ride now. I wish you would leave the country before he finds you."

Herndon laughed. "Since when have you started carin' about me?"

"I don't care about you. You're a cheap, loud-mouthed braggart, and a coyote at heart. You've gotten away with a lot because you ride in Mr. Dunn's shadow. I just do not want my husband to have to kill another man."

As they drove the cattle away, Ann looked after them, heartsick with worry and fear. Johnny appeared from the trees. "I seen 'em, Sis, but I didn't know what to do. I figured I'd better ride to town after Morg."

"No," she was suddenly thinking clearly, "you stay here and don't let them burn us out. I'll ride into town and see Sheriff Collins."

While Johnny was saddling her horse she hastily changed, fixed her hair, and got some papers from the strongbox.

Collins was shocked. "Ma'am, you can't do this! You can't arrest Dunn for stealin'! Why, he's the higgest cattleman in these parts!"

"Nevertheless, I have sworn out a warrant for his arrest, and I want you to come with me." She showed him the bill of sale for the cattle. "He has driven these cattle from my place, taking them by force, and Ollie Herndon struck me."

She indicated the bruise on her brow. "Sheriff, my husband is a Lowry. I want Wiley Dunn behind bars before my husband finds him."

"Just what happened out there, ma'am'" Reluctantly, he got to his feet. "Is that right? Is Morg the one they called the Lowry kid?"

At her a.s.sent, he started for the door. "You come along, ma'am, if you will. I don't want any killing here if it can be helped."

The Lowry kid was credited with nine men in all, but locally Morgan Tanner had been a quiet, reserved man, well-liked in the area, and always peaceful. Yet Collins knew the type. The West was tull of them. Leave them alone and they were solid, quiet men who worked hard, morning until night; push them the wrong way and all h.e.l.l would break loose.

Suddenly Tanner was in the door. "Ann? What's wrong? I thought I saw you come in here." Then, "What's happened to your head?"

He listened, his face without expression, but as he turned to the door, Collins said, "Morg? Leave this to the law."

"All right. Except for Ollie. I'll take care of him."

"You're well liked around here, Morg. You want to spoil that by killing a man?"

" I won't kill him unless I have to. I'll just make him wish he was dead."

Wiley Dunn was talking with Ollie Herndon on the porch when Sheriff Collins, Morgan Tanner, and Ann rode into the ranch yard. By then there was a livid bruise where she had been struck.

"Dunn," Collins spoke apologetically, "I ve got a war-rant for your arrest. You and Ollie there. For rustlin'."

Ollie was watching Tanner. The expression in his eyes was almost one of hunger. "You huntin' me?"

"Pull in your neck," Tanner said calmly, "you'll have your turn."

Dunn's face was flushed with anger. "You'd arrest me? For rustling?"

"That's right," Collins said. "Mrs. Tanner has a bill of sale for those cattle you drove off. She bought 'em from the Bar Seven. Paid cash for 'em."

Dunn was appalled. "Look, this is a mistake. I thought -- !"

"The trouble is that you didn't think at all," Tanner cut him off. "You've let yourself get so fat-headed and self-centered you didn't think at all.

"Dunn, all I've ever wanted from you is peace. You've no legal right to any of that range you hold. You've used it and misused it. Right now you're destroying the range with five thousand more cattle than the gra.s.s will carry.

"If you want to know the truth, Dunn, I've given serious thought to sending word back to Texas for two dozen friends of mine to come in and settle on your range. They'd file on it legally, and they are fighters. You'd be lucky to keep the house you live in."

"Tanner, maybe I've been some kind of a blind fool, but you wouldn't want to press those charges, would you? I might be able to beat your case, but I'd look the fool. You name the damages, and I'll pay. That all right with you, Sheriff?"

Collins waved a hand. "If Tanner drops his charges I'll say no more."

Morgan Tanner looked at Dunn and could find no malice in his heart. All that had been washed away back on the Neuces. He wanted only peace now, and Ann. "No more trouble about Lonetree?"

"No more trouble. That's decent of you, Tanner. You had me over a barrel."

Herndon swore. "Boss! What s come over you? Knucklin under to this plow-jockey? I'd see myself in -- 1"

His voice broke off and he started to draw as Tanner turned. Tanner's draw was smooth and much faster. His first shot broke Ollie's arm at the elbow, spinning him half around. A second shot notched his ear, and as Ollie's other hand grabbed at the b.l.o.o.d.y ear, another bullet cut the lobe on the remaining ear. Herndon turned and began to run clumsily. Tanner walked after him, gun poised.

"Yo start riding, Herndon, and if you ever show up in this country,again, I'll kill you.

"You aren't a tough man. You wouldn't make a pimple on a tough man's neck. Now hit your saddle and get out of here."

Deliberately, he turned his back and walked to his own horse. He mounted, then glanced at the sheriff. "Thanks, Collins."

As Ann rode to him he looked around. "Have your boys drive those heifers back, Dunn. And drop around yourself some time, for supper."

Further along the road he said, "You know, that man Dunn might make a good neighbor. He's pig-headed, but in his place I might have been just as hard. Anyway, what a man needs in this country is good neighbors." Then he added, "We'd better hurry. Johnny's apt to be worried, holdin' the fort there by hiinself."

When they rode into the yard Johnny came out from the house, a rifle in the hollow of his arm. At last it was sundown on the Lonetree.

That Slash Seven Kid Johnny Lyle rode up to the bog camp at Seep Spring just before noon. Bert Ramsey, foreman of the Slash Seven outfit, glanced up and nodded briefly. Ramsey had troubles enough without having this brash youngster around.

"Say!" Johnny hooked a leg around the saddle horn. "Who's this Hook Lacey?"

Ramsey stopped walking. "Hook Lacey," he said, "is just about the toughest hombre around here, that's all. He's a rustler and a horse thief, and the fastest hand with a gun in this part of the country since Garrett shot Billy the Kid."

"Ride alone?"

"Naw. He's got him a gang nigh as mean as he is. n.o.body wants any part of them."

"You mean you let 'em get away with rustling? We'd never cotton to that back on the Nueces."

Ramsey turned away irritably. "This ain't the Nueces. If you want to be useful why don't you go help Gar Mullins? The heel flies are driving cows into that quicksand faster'n he can drag 'em out."

"Sure." Johnny Lyle swung his leg back over the saddle. "Only I'd rather go after Lacey and his outfit."

"What?" Ramsey turned on him. "Are you crazy? Those hombres, any one of 'em, would eat three like you for breakfa/! If that bunch tackles us, we'll fight, but we'll not go huntin' 'em!"

"You mean you don't want me to."

Ramsey was disgusted. What did this kid think he was doing, anyway? Like a fool kid, to make a big play in front of the hands, who were listening, to impress them how tough he was. Well, there was a way to stop that!

"Why, no," he said dryly. "If you want to go after those outlaws after you help Gar get the cattle out of the quicksand, go ahead."

Sundown was an hour past when Gar Mullins rode up to the corral at the Slash Seven. e stripped the saddle from his bronc, and after a quick splash and a wipe, he went in and dropped on a bench at the table. Old Tom West, the owner, looked up.

"Where's the kid?" he asked. "Where's my nephew? Didn't he come in?"

Gar was surprised. He glanced around the table. "Shucks, ain't he here? He left me about three o'clock or so. Said Bert told him he could get Hook Lacey if he finished in time."

"What!" Tom West's voice was a bull bellow. His under jaw shot out. "Bert, did you tell him that?"

Ramsey's face grew red, then pale. "Now, look, boss," he protested, "I figured he was talking to hear hisself make a big noise. I told him when he helped Gar get all them cows out, he could go after Lacey. never thought he'd be fool enough to do it."

"Aw!" Chuck Allen grinned. "He's probably just rode into town! Where would he look for that outfit? And how could he find 'em when we ain't been able to?"

"We ain't looked any too hard," Mullins said. "I know I ain't."

Tom West was silent. At last he spoke. uc1"Nope, could never find 'em. But if anything happens to that boy, I'd never dare look my sister in the face again." He glared at Bert Ramsey. "If anything does happen to him you'd better be halfway to the border before I hear it."

Johnny Lyle was a cheerful, easygoing, free-talking youngster. He was pushing eighteen, almost a man by Western standards, and as old as Billy the Kid when Billy was leading one of the forces in the Lincoln County War.

But Johnny was more than a brash, devil-may-care youngster. He had been born and raised on the Nueces, and had cut his riding teeth in the black chaparral between the Nueces and the Rio Grande. When his father died he had been fourteen, and his mother had moved east. Johnny had continued to hunt and wander in the woods of the Virginia mountains, but he had gone to New York several times each month.

In New York he had spent a lot of time in shooting galleries. In the woods he had hunted, tracked, and enjoyed fistic battles with rugged mountaineers. He had practiced drawing in front of a mirror until he was greased lightning with a gun. The shooting galleries gave him the marksmanship, and in the woods he had learned to become even more of a tracker than he had learned to be in the brush country of his father, to which he returned for his summer vacations.

Moreover, he had been listening as well as talking. Since he had been here on the Slash Seven, Gar Mullins had several times mentioned the rough country of Tierra Blanca Canyon as a likely hangout for the rustlers. t was believed they disposed of many stolen cattle in the mining camps to the north, having a steady market for beef at Victorio and in the vicinity.

Tom West loved his sister and had a deep affection for his friendly, likable nephew, but Johnny was well aware that Tom also considered him a guest, and not a hand. Mullins could have told them the kid was both a roper and a rider, and had a lot of cow savvy, but Mullins rarely talked and never volunteered anything.

Johnny naturally liked to be accepted as an equal of the others, and it irritated him that his uncle treated him like a visiting tenderfoot. And because he was irked, Johnny decided to show them, once andfor all.

Bert Ramsey's irritable toleration of him angered him.

Once he left Mullins, when the cattle were out of the quicksand, he headed across the country through Sibley Gap. He pa.s.sed through the gap at sundown and made camp at a spring a few miles beyond. It could be no more than seven or eight miles farther to the canyon of which Mullins had talked, for he was already on the Tierra Blanca.