Ralph Compton Face of a Snake

by Bernard Schaffer

  “Well, we tried to talk him out of it, didn’t we?”

  “I guess. Not enough, though.”

  “Well, get him off the road,” Sinclair said, “before anybody comes.”

  Jesse and Mirta rode up in a cloud of dust. “What happened?” Jesse shouted. “Why did you shoot?”

  “We tried to talk it over with him. It didn’t go so well,” Sinclair said.

  “So you killed him?”

  “He insisted,” Sinclair said.

  “Listen to me, Ash Sinclair. I don’t know who you were back in the day when you were some sort of outlaw, but right now killing is just going to make things worse! Do you understand? My son is being held prisoner and if you just start shooting people, the first thing Granger is going to do is cut his throat! From now on you will do as I say! You will not shoot unless you are told! Is that clear?”

  Sinclair eased his horse alongside Jesse’s. “I realize you were in charge back at the ranch and that you built it with William and you birthed and raised Connor and he’s your son. That’s all fine. But out here on the road dealing with badmen, things don’t work the way you think they do. You know how I know?” He leaned in close to her. “Because I’m a badman. I’ve been a badman since before you were born. You want to come with me and see how a badman’s work is done, I’ll allow it. You want to ride with us and fight with us, I’ll allow that too. But just as sure as I put a bullet in that young man for getting in my way, I will shoot your horse in all four legs if you try to stop me. Is that clear?”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “That dead fool in the road there said the same thing.”

  Jesse’s lip curled in disgust. “I see you got your guns back, and now you think you can go around threatening people. Is that it?”

  “I only threaten folk I’m trying to spare,” Sinclair said. “From now on everybody else just dies.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Mirta helped her father drag the body off the road. “We have to get him where no one else can see him, Papa,” she said.

  Escalante grunted as he pulled the man into the ditch. “It breaks my heart that you are here, my love. I never wanted you to see any of this or be part of anything like this. I am sorry you had to see me shoot that man.”

  “Why? He was going to shoot you or Mr. Ash,” Mirta said.

  “I did not raise you to think I am a killer,” Escalante said. “I do not want you to think of your papa like that.”

  “I know who you are,” Mirta said. “And it was never a gold prospector.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  They stayed on the road for the next few hours until Jesse stopped them and said, “We’re not far now. Granger’s ranch is only a few miles away.”

  Sinclair tugged his horse to get it onto the side of the road and said, “Let’s make camp.”

  Escalante and Mirta followed him, but Jesse did not. “What are you talking about? We’re almost there.”

  “I know,” Sinclair said.

  “We have to go get Connor.”

  “He’ll keep.”

  Sinclair pointed at a spot in the distance and said, “Lorenzo, you see any good spots for a camp over there?”

  “Maybe behind the trees.”

  “All right. Let’s get set up.”

  Jesse came up alongside them. “What are we making camp for? We came all this way to be at Granger’s front door all so you can sit down for a spell?”

  “Did you and William ever have to bring in any outside men to help you run your ranch, men you didn’t know?”

  “In the beginning before we got a regular crew together, sure,” she said. “All the time. Why?”

  “How’d that go?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Indulge me,” Sinclair said.

  Jesse sighed. “It turned out okay eventually. Took a little while, but we came up with a good group of hard workers we could trust who we could hire back each season.”

  Sinclair nodded. “Why did it take so long?”

  “You had to weed out all the bad apples,” Jesse said, “the drunks and the thieves and the do-nothings and all the complainers. Most especially the bastards, such as yourself.”

  Sinclair laughed. Jesse didn’t. “So the point is, they didn’t show up like that when they asked for the job,” Sinclair said.

  “No. Everybody always comes in well dressed and polite and promising to work their fingers to the bone. It’s once you get ’em in that they show their true colors.”

  “It was the same with me and Lorenzo’s gang,” Sinclair said. “I reckon it’s the same for anyone who’s ever hired a large group of men he don’t know. Out of twenty men, you might get one or two worth a damn.”

  “That’s what Connor did and look what happened. His men either turned tail and ran or hired on with the other side.” Jesse turned her head and looked in the direction of Granger’s ranch. “Now they’re Granger’s problem, aren’t they?”

  “Right now Granger thinks he’s almost won the fight. All he needs them hired guns to do is to stay put to ensure his victory. He won’t be cracking the whip on them too hard—that’s for sure.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Jesse asked.

  “Like I said, we make camp,” Sinclair said.

  * * *

  * * *

  Escalante had found them a place in the shade where it was cool and they could eat and let the horses rest. Escalante ran a spoon along the inside of his bowl. “What do you think, jefe? You want to take a look?”

  Sinclair licked his fork. “I’d prefer to wait until it gets dark.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look, though,” Escalante said.

  “You never was one for patience, Lorenzo. Fine. Let’s get our things and go have ourselves a look.”

  “What are we looking for?” Jesse asked.

  “High ground,” Escalante said. “Preferably some place we can see them but they can’t see us.”

  “I know a place,” Jesse said. “Follow me.”

  She led them to a hill called Fermin’s Pass that sat overlooking the entrance to Granger’s ranch. It had a good amount of trees on it to hide behind, and it was close enough to get a good view of most of the property.

  The four of them dismounted and crouched to make their way across the top of the hill. When they were close enough, Escalante dropped to his chest and inched forward. The two women followed his lead. Sinclair stayed back and grunted as he lowered himself to the ground, then slowly crawled to where they were.

  Dust moved like waves on the road below. Escalante propped the Spencer in the crook of his left arm and leaned forward to peer through the scope. The wind blew his long hair into his face, and he swept it behind his ears. He looked back through the scope and waited for the dust to pass. “There’s a big wagon turned sideways to block the road into the ranch. I see two men sitting on top of it. They’re armed.”

  Sinclair pulled out his field glasses and wiped their lenses with his shirtsleeve. He pressed them to his face and waited until he could make out the men Escalante had described. “They certainly are,” Sinclair said. “I see two shotguns, and they’ve both got pistols.” He handed the field glasses to Jesse and told her to take a look. “We’ll need a way to get past them.”

  “You want me to take them?” Escalante asked.

  “No. That rifle will echo throughout the whole county from up here,” Jesse said.

  “Lady’s right,” Sinclair said. “We’ll need some other way.”

  Mirta said, “I can do it.”

  Escalante looked up from his rifle scope and saw Mirta nock an arrow in her bow. She started to draw the bowstring back and Escalante grabbed the arrow by its shaft before she could release it. “What are you doing?”

  She let go of the string.
“I’m getting rid of the men.”

  “No! You can’t just go around killing everyone!”

  She frowned and crouched back down on the grass.

  “What has gotten into you, Mirta?” Escalante said.

  “I want to help.”

  “You help by staying back and not doing anything crazy.”

  “Fine,” Mirta grunted.

  “You couldn’t make that shot from here anyway,” Escalante said.

  “Yes, I could.”

  “We’re too high up and there’s too much wind.”

  “I could make it,” Mirta said.

  “Oh, I like her,” Sinclair chuckled. “Wish we’d had her in the Venom Snakes. We’d have wiped out those damn Pinkertons for sure.”

  Jesse put down the field glasses. “I’ve got an idea. I don’t like it, but it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Sinclair said.

  “We send somebody down there. I can’t do it because they’ll know me. You can’t do it because you’re too old and they might know you. Mirta can’t do it because she’s too young.” Jesse looked at Escalante. “I hate having to ask you, Lorenzo, because I don’t even hardly know you.”

  “If you knew me, you’d know you don’t have to ask,” Escalante said.

  * * *

  * * *

  Russel Woodburn and Mark Johnson had worked for Granger for two years. They were part of the regular hands Granger kept around the ranch and that gave them status to lord over all the new arrivals. They’d been hired originally as guns who could escort supply wagons to and from the ranch or ride with Mr. Granger as his guard when he needed to go someplace. On occasion, they’d gone to visit the ranchers who refused to sell their property or livestock to Mr. Granger and set things on fire until the ranchers changed their minds.

  Both men sat on top of the stagecoach, watching the entrance. The dust was high that afternoon and it was hot. Woodburn took a swig of water and wiped his mouth. “Can’t believe we have to sit out here all damned day while the others get to sit around and drink and play cards.”

  “Everybody has to pull their share, I suppose,” Johnson said. “This was just our turn.”

  “Can’t wait until this is all done and we can send all them boys packing. Last thing we need is any of them getting comfortable and thinking they can have our jobs.”

  “From what I seen, none of them is worth a squirt anyhow,” Johnson said. He stuck a clump of tobacco in his mouth and sucked on it. He passed the tobacco pouch to Woodburn and Woodburn stuck his fingers inside it to grab a clump and packed it inside his lower lip. “Long as we get paid, I don’t care how many of them stick around. More the merrier, I say.”

  Woodburn spit off the side of the stagecoach. “Up until Mr. Granger decides he don’t need so many guns and starts telling us to get.”

  “Mr. Granger’s always gonna need guns. He won’t be happy till he cuts down every other rancher in this state. After that, he’s gonna cut down the ones in the other states too.”

  Woodburn spit again and wiped his hand on his sleeve. “You must be drunk. Ain’t no rancher big enough to do that.”

  Johnson shrugged. “You ever heard of a railroad baron?”

  “Sure.”

  “Mr. Granger wants to be what you call a land baron. His plan, best as I can tell, is to buy up all the land and the livestock so nobody but him can sell it.”

  “That’s not news, you damn fool. Everybody knows that.”

  “It’s what he’s going to do after that I’m interested in.”

  Woodburn chewed on that thought. “Well, I expect he’s going to put his own people on all those ranches and work them same as usual.”

  “Can’t be done,” Johnson said. “It’s too big. He’d never be able to keep an eye on all of it. Cattle wouldn’t thrive and the land wouldn’t produce. Naw. From what I can tell, he’s going to let all them ranchers come right back onto the land he took from them.”

  Woodburn almost choked on tobacco juice until he was able to spit. He looked at Johnson in confusion. “Now, why in the hell would Mr. Granger go to all that trouble of taking their land away just to turn around and give it all back to them?”

  “I ain’t say he was gonna give it back. He’ll keep owning it. They’ll pay him to use it. For a high price, he will let them borrow his land and they won’t be able to use nothing on it but his crops, his cattle, his sheep, you name it. There he go, making money off the front end. Then for every crop they sell and every cow they butcher, he gets a percentage too, making money off the back end. He’ll have folk paying for all the hands and feed and equipment off of what they make and he’ll sit here, never lifting a finger, making money off all of it.”

  Woodburn let out a whistle. “I can’t hardly wrap my head around that kind of plan. What you say he was going to be called again?”

  “A land baron.”

  “Land baron. Almost like he’s royalty or something.”

  “In this place, that’s exactly what it is. Way I see it, he’ll need a whole lot of help with a whole lot of guns to make that happen. I don’t care how many of these boys he hires or how many he keeps. All I care is, when he starts taking over this part of the country, I get to come along with him.”

  “Know what I think?” Woodburn asked. “I think me and you should go somewhere and do the same exact thing. Become our own land barons.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not? It’s a free country, ain’t it?”

  “You see anything around here that looks free to you?” Johnson asked.

  “Mr. Granger used to be just like you and me. He told me so himself. He came from nothing and bought his first ranch and worked his way up, just like all these other folk. He just did it better than they did.”

  Johnson wiped the inside of his lip to gather up the tobacco stuck there and flicked it away. “You ever hear that expression ‘ain’t nobody likes to tell you how they worked their way up from nothing like the man who inherited his father’s store’?”

  “No. What’s that mean?”

  Johnson stuck another lump of tobacco in his mouth and chewed. He leaned forward and squinted through the dust in the road. A figure emerged through the dust, coming toward them. He tapped Woodburn and said, “Who’s that?”

  “I don’t know. You recognize him?”

  “No,” Johnson said. He raised his shotgun and called out, “That’s close enough, mister!”

  Lorenzo Escalante brought his horse to a stop and held up his hand to wave. “I’m looking for Mr. Nelson Granger,” he said. “I heard he is in need of men.”

  Woodburn grinned and tobacco juice leaked through his teeth. “He’s in need of men, but he ain’t in need of no old ones.”

  “You got a gun, old-timer?” Johnson asked.

  Escalante tapped the butt end of the rusty double-barreled shotgun in his saddle and said, “Just this one but it doesn’t have any shells.”

  Woodburn laughed so hard, he spit. “What in the hell you going to do for Mr. Granger with a shotgun and no bullets?”

  “I have a specialty,” Escalante said.

  “What’s that?” Johnson asked.

  “I can cook.” Escalante held up his hands to stop them so he could go on. “I rode with many gangs since I was a little boy and I can tell you, the most important thing is to have a good cook. That way, the food is always ready. I can make stews, biscuits, breakfast. I can even make my own liquor. I promise you, what I can do as a cook is more valuable than what most of your other men can do with a gun.”

  Woodburn laughed again and said, “Get the hell on out of here! Just turn your horse around, you old fool.”

  “Hang on,” Johnson said. He waved Escalante past and said, “Go on through.”

  Woodburn’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing
?”

  “What you eat before we came out here today?”

  “Beans and some salt pork.”

  “What you eat last night for supper?”

  “Beans and salt pork.”

  “And the meal before that?” Johnson asked.

  “Damn.” Woodburn spit tobacco juice between his legs and looked up at Escalante. He waved him on and said, “Glad to have you here, sir.”

  “Ask for Todd at the door, and tell him we sent you in,” Johnson said.

  “I will. Thank you,” Escalate said.

  “Hey, old-timer, you gonna let us have some of that good stew before anybody else when you make it, ain’t you?” Johnson called out.

  “I’ll make sure you get it first,” Escalante said. He tipped his hat to them and then he went past.

  * * *

  * * *

  As Escalante stood on the porch to Granger’s mansion, the giant Ulai opened the front door. Escalante looked up at him in wonder. “Good afternoon, sir. Are you Todd?”

  The giant’s eyes were cold and black and too small for the rest of his misshapen face.

  “I was told to ask for Todd. The men on the stagecoach sent me. I told them I want to be a cook for the men Mr. Granger is hiring and they said I should come here and introduce myself.”

  Ulai stared down at Escalante. His nostrils were cavernous and hairy and his rancid breath blasted Escalante in the face.

  “Ulai?” a voice called out from within. “Ulai! Damn you, why are you standing there with the door open, letting in all the bugs? I told you once, I told you a thousand times you can’t just stand there with the door open, gawking at the birds, idiot. That’s why you’re the outside giant!”

  A thin hand with clean, trimmed nails shoved against Ulai’s arm. The giant looked down, but his arm did not move.

  “Shut the door,” a man’s voice said. He slapped Ulai on the arm.

  He slapped him again and said, “I said shut the door!”

  The giant stepped aside to reveal a man in a red suit embroidered with colorful birds on it. His hair was slicked back and his mustache was trimmed at perfect angles. He looked at Escalante in surprise. “And just who are you?”