The Settling of the Sage Part 28

Slade shook his head and smiled.

"You've got the wrong party," he said. "You can't prove anything on me."

"I don't count on that," Carp said. "You've covered up right well. We know you work through Morrow but can't prove a word. We've got enough to hang him; but I expect maybe you'll get off."

There was a sc.r.a.pe of feet outside the door and the sheriff entered and took possession of Slade's gun as Harris and Waddles moved round from the window and went inside.

"I'm a few minutes late," Alden said. "I wasn't right sure how close I was to the house so I left my horse too far back."

"Here's your prisoners," Carp said. "Captured and delivered as agreed.

I haven't anything on Slade myself but if you want him he's yours."

"What do you want with me?" Slade demanded a second time.

"I'm picking you up on complaint make by the Three Bar," Alden said.

"I'll have to take you along."

Slade turned on Harris.

"What charge?" he asked.

"Killing twelve Three Bar bulls on the last day of August," Harris stated.

"I was out with the ranger," Slade said. "Back in the hills. You know that yourself. That charge won't stick."

"Then maybe it was the second of May," Harris returned. "I sort of forget."

Slade suddenly grasped the significance of this arrest.

"How many of you fellows are p.u.s.s.y-footing round out here?" he inquired of Carp.

"I don't mind confessing that several of the boys are riding for you,"

Carp informed. "But while we've cinched Morrow we haven't been able to trace it back to you. I even got put on the black list, thinking you might do business with me direct after that--knowing my word wouldn't stand against yours. But not you! You've covered your tracks."

Carp spoke softly, as if to himself, detailing his failure to gather conclusive evidence against Slade.

"I even run your rebrand on fifty or so Three Bar cows. You knew there wasn't a dollar changed hands when Morrow gave me that paper which licensed me to rustle my own she-stock. We can't even prove that you didn't owe him two years' back pay and square up by giving him that bill of sale. There's never a check of yours made out to Morrow that's gone through the bank. The boys who staged the stampede drew down a lump sum from Morrow for the job. We know who was financing the raid--can't be proved. The idea in my starting up was to run your rebrand on any number of Three Bar cows. Later Morrow would buy me out--acting for you; can't be proved. Oh, you're in the clear, all right."

Slade broke in upon the monologue. This recitation of his probable immunity from conviction on every count, far from rea.s.suring him, served to confirm his original suspicion as to the reason for this arrest without witnesses. If the sheriff had wanted him he had but to send word for Slade to come in. He threw out one last line and the answer convinced him beyond all doubt.

"Then a lawyer will have me out in an hour," he predicted.

"A lawyer could," Alden said. "If you saw one. But we've decided not to let you have access to legal advice for the first few days."

Slade turned on Carpenter.

"This sort of thing is against the law," he said. "You're a United States marshal. How can you go in on a kidnapping deal?"

"I'm not in on it," Carp shrugged. "The sheriff asked me to arrest you at the first opportunity. I've turned you over to him. The rest is his affair. Besides, like I was mentioning, they can't prove a thing on you. As soon as they're convinced of that they'll turn you loose."

The sheriff nodded gravely.

"The very day I'm satisfied Harris can't prove his charges I'll throw open the doors. You'll be a free man that minute."

A vision of the near future swept across Slade's mind. If he should be locked up for three months and discharged for lack of evidence it would wreck him as surely as the rumors of the last few months had cut Lang's men off from the rest of the world. Squatters had filed on every available site throughout his range and now waited to see if the Three Bar would win its fight. If the news should be spread that he was locked up these nesters would rush in. On his release he would find them everywhere. With marshals scattered through the ranks of his own men, intent on upholding the homestead laws, he would be helpless to drive them out. The pictures of the different valleys suitable for ranch sites, scattered here and there over his extensive range, traveled through his mind in kaleidoscopic procession--and he visioned a squatter outfit established on every one. If they locked him up at this time he was lost.

He nodded slowly.

"Well, I guess you've got me," he said. "I don't see that it will amount to much, anyway. Sooner or later you'll let me out." He raised his arms high above his head and stretched. Under cover of this casual move he swiftly raised one foot.

Slade planted his boot on the edge of the light table and gave a tremendous shove. The far edge caught the sheriff across the legs and overthrew him. The lantern crashed to the floor and at the same instant Morrow aimed a sidewise, sweeping kick at Carpenter's ankles.

As the marshal went down his head struck the corner post of a bunk and he did not rise.

With a single sweep Morrow caught the back of his chair and swung it above his head for the spot which Waddles had occupied at the instant the light went out. The weapon splintered in his hands as it found its mark, and as the big man struck the dirt floor Morrow leaped for the dim light which indicated the open door.

A huge paw clamped on one ankle and a back-handed wrench sent him flying across the room to the far wall. With a sweep of the other hand Waddles slammed the door with a bang that jarred the cabin.

"We've got 'em trapped," the big voice exulted. "We've got 'em sewed in a sack."

Harris made one long reach and swung the b.u.t.t of his gun for Slade's head as the table went down but Slade, with the same motion, vaulted the prostrate sheriff. The force of the blow threw Harris off his balance and as he tripped and reeled to his knees Slade's boot heel scored a glancing blow on his skull and floored him. He regained his feet, gripping a fragment of the chair Morrow had smashed over Waddles's head, and struck at a dim form which loomed against the vague light of the window.

The shape closed with him and he went down in a corner with Slade.

Slade struck him twice in the face, writhed away and gained his feet, back-slashing at Harris's head with his spurs. Harris caught a hand-hold in the long fur of the other's chaps, wrapped both arms round Slade above the knees and dragged him back. His hand found Slade's throat and he squeezed down on it as the man raised both knees and thrust them against his stomach to break the hold. Slade's arm swept a circle on the floor in search of the gun Harris had dropped but he was jerked a foot from the floor and Harris jammed his head against the log wall,--jammed again and Slade crumpled into a limp heap. Harris held him there, unwilling to take a chance lest the other might be feigning unconsciousness. But Slade was out of the fight.

The sheriff struggled to his feet as Waddles tossed Morrow back from the door and slammed it shut. He closed with Morrow but the man eluded him. He dared not shoot with friends and enemies struggling all about the black pit of the little room.

Morrow leaped one way, then the opposite, as the sheriff groped for him. Alden turned toward a rattle at the stove as he heard Slade's head crunch against the wall under Harris's savage thrust.

"Down him!" Waddles roared. "Tear him down! Tear him down! I'm holding the door."

From the corner by the stove an iron pot hurtled across the room for the sound of the voice and crashed against the wall a foot from his head. A second kettle struck Alden in the chest and he went down.

Waddles saw the light vanish from the window, then reappear. Morrow had made a headlong dive through the little opening.

Waddles swung back the door and sprang outside as Morrow vaulted to the saddle. The big man lunged and tackled both horse and man as a grizzly would seek to batter down his prey.

The frightened horse struck at him, numbing one leg with the blow of an iron-shod forefoot, then reared and wheeled away from the thing which sprang at him, but Waddles retained his grip in the animal's mane, his other hand clamped on Morrow's ankle.

The rider leaned and struck him in the head. The crazed horse shook Waddles off but as he fell the other man fell with him, dragged from the saddle by the jerk of one mighty hand. They rolled apart and Morrow leaped to his feet but Waddles had wrenched the leg already numbed by the striking horse and it buckled under him and let him back to the ground as he put his weight on it. He reached for his gun. A form loomed above him, a heavy rock upraised in both hands. The gun barked just as a downward sweep of the arms started the rock for his head. Morrow pitched down across him and Waddles swept him aside with a single thrust.

He rose and stirred the limp shape with his toe as the sheriff reached his side.

"Dead bird!" Waddles announced and turned to limp back to the cabin.

A match flared inside as Harris lighted the lantern. Carpenter stirred and sat up, moving one hand along the gash in his scalp. The sheriff stooped and snapped a pair of handcuffs on Slade's wrists. They splashed water on his face and he opened his eyes. He regarded the steel bracelets at his wrists as he was helped to his feet and turned to Harris.

"Don't forget that I'll kill you for this," he said. It was a simple statement, made without heat or bl.u.s.ter, and aside from this one remark he failed to speak a syllable until the sheriff rode away with him.

The sheriff waved the lantern outside the door and before he lowered it two deputies rode up, leading his horse.