The Settling of the Sage

by Hal G. Evarts

  VIII

  Three heavy wagons, each drawn by four big mules, traveled north alongthe Coldriver stage trail. Every wagon was loaded to the brim of thetriple box. Two men were mounted on each wagon seat, the man besidethe driver balancing a rifle across his knees. The butt of anotherprotruded from a saddle scabbard that was lashed to each wagon withineasy reach of the man who handled the reins.

  "Nice place to camp, Tiny," said the guard on the lead wagon. Hepointed off across a flat beside the road toward a sign that loomed inthe center. The black-browed giant designated as Tiny swung the mulesoff the road and headed for the sign. The three wagons were drawn upsome fifteen yards apart in the shape of a triangle, the mulesunhitched and given a feed of grain from nose-bags, tied to the wagonsand supplied with baled hay. Tiny walked over and viewed the sign.

  "Squatter don't let sunset find you here," he read.

  "It's about that time now," he observed, squinting over his shoulder."It'd be a mistake to leave evidence like that around." He tore downthe sign and worked it into firewood with an axe. "Now they can't donothing to us for drifting in here by error," he remarked to hiscompanions. "It wouldn't be fair."

  While four of them slept the other two remained awake, rousing a secondpair after a three-hour period. In the morning the three wagonslumbered on. Near sunset they passed another sign where the Three Barroad branched off to the left. Tiny pulled up the mules.

  "Uproot that little beauty, Russet," he advised. "We're getting closeto home."

  The carrot-haired guard descended and threw his weight against thesign, working it from side to side until the posts were loosened in theground, pried it up and loaded it on the wagon.

  "Quick work, Russ," the big man complimented. "For a little sawed-offrunt, you're real spry and active." He clucked to the mules and theysettled steadily into the collars and moved on to the Three Bar. Asthey rolled up the lane the freighters could see the chuck wagon drawnup before the house, the remuda milling round the big pasture lot and anumber of men moving among the buildings. The calf round-up was over.

  The Three Bar men viewed the freighters curiously as they swung themule teams in front of the blacksmith shop, noted the rifle in thehands of each guard and the second one in easy reach of each driver.They knew what this portended.

  The freighters had stripped off the wagon-sheet lashed across the topof each load and the Three Bar men moved casually toward the wagons,curious to view the contents.

  "You boys get to knowing each other," Harris said. "Thesemule-skinners will be hanging out at the Three Bar from now on."

  The short man, known as Russet, removed his hat and scratched his headreflectively as he studied the first move in unloading his wagon.Moore promptly uncovered his own head and revealed his brilliant redshock of hair, his freckled face breaking into a genial grin.

  "Hello, you red-hot little devil," he greeted. "I'm glad some one hasturned up with redder hair than mine. Brother--shake!"

  Russ looked him over carefully.

  "Don't you claim no relationship with me, you sorrel hyena," he said."I won't stand it for a holy second. Get a move on and help me snatchoff this load."

  All down the line the Three Bar men were getting acquainted with thefreighters, introductions effected in much the same manner as thatbetween Russet and Moore. A thousand pounds of oats were tossed fromthe top of the first wagon and when the concealing sacks were clearedaway there were three heavy plows showing underneath, the spacesbetween them filled with shining coils of fence wire. The second loadconsisted of a dismantled drill, a crate of long-handled shovels, andmore barbed wire; the third held a rake and a mowing machine, morewire, kegs of fence staples and a dozen forks.

  "The Three Bar will be the middle point of a cyclone," Moore prophesiedas he viewed the implements. "Just as soon as this leaks out."

  "We fetched our cyclone openers with us," Russ assured him. "Let herbuck."

  From the cook-shack door the girl viewed these preparations, thenturned her eyes to the flat and visioned it with a carpet of ripplinghay.

  There was a clatter of hoofs and a rattling of gravel as five horsemenput their sure-footed mounts down the steep slope two hundred yardsback of the house and followed along the fence of the corral. The fiveBrandons had cut across the shoulder of the mountain. The girlwondered at this visit as she heard Lafe Brandon, the father and headof the tribe, ask Harris to put them up for the night.

  An hour later Harris and Lafe came to her door and she let them in.

  "The Brandons are riding down to file on a quarter apiece," Harrissaid. "Art quit the wagon below their place as we came in and told therest that we're going to farm the Three Bar."

  "Then you're doing the same?" she asked Lafe with sudden hope that herbrand would have company in the move.

  Old man Brandon shook his head.

  "Not right off," he said. "Until we see how you folks pan out. Wecan't fix to handle it the way you do. We're filing to protectourselves before some nester outfit turns up at our front door."

  The old man explained his views. There was enough flow in the streamthat cut their home valley to water something over a section of land.With that filed on they would control their home range. They couldgrade up their cows and increase a hundred per cent. with a sectionunder hay. He hoped the Three Bar would win, but he feared to start inthe face of the wave of opposition he was sure would rise against themove.

  "We're not fixed for it," he explained again.

  "But the other small outfits feel the same way," Harris said. "If twoof us start the rest will join in."

  "Maybe so," the old man said doubtfully. "But noways likely. They'retoo set on the other side." The thought was deep-rooted and he couldnot be moved.

  "We'll let it out it's only for protection that we all are filing," hesaid. "And that we don't aim to prove up. The outfits that don't filenow will lose out. This will always be open range, more than ninetyper cent. of it, and those who file on their water will control thegrass. As soon as the squatters see one outfit starting, they'll takeout papers on every piece of dirt they can get water to. They'll havesix months to move on, then a six months' stay. They'll hang roundwaiting for things to open up so they can rush in here. The brandowners who haven't hedged theirselves beforehand will run down to fileand find that nesters have had papers on all the good pieces right intheir dooryard for months. They'll have only the plots left that theirhome ranch sets on, and likely no water even for that."

  The Brandons stayed for the night and rode off at daylight the nextmorning, while the Three Bar men prepared for a trip to Brill's. Asthe rest were saddling for the start Harris saw old Rile Foster seatedby himself, gazing off across the hills.

  "Better come and ride over with us, Rile," he urged. "Bangs would wantyou to try and forget."

  The old man shook his head.

  "I'm drifting to-day," he said. "I'll likely be back before long. Iback-tracked Blue to their camp and trailed them twenty miles to wherethey joined another bunch. It was some of Harper's devils--I don'tknow which four. One way or another, whether I get the right four ornot, I'm going to play even for Bangs."

  When the rest of the men rode off the old man was still leaning againstthe shop.

  There were less than a dozen others in Brill's store when the Three Barmen crowded through the door. Five men sat at one of the tables in thebig room and indulged in a casual game of stud. Harper and Lang wereamong them. Two of them Harris knew as men named Hopkins and Wade.The fifth was unknown to him.

  The albino's eyes met Harris's steadily as he entered at the head ofthe Three Bar men. Those among the hands who had formerly fraternizedas freely with Harper's men as with those who rode for legitimateoutfits now held way from them since their foreman had ordered Harperfrom the Three Bar wagon. They merely nodded as they filed past to thebar.

  "Who is the man dealing now?" Harris inquired of Moore.

  The freckled youth turned to the
card players.

  "Magill," he said. "Same breed as the rest."

  The news that the Three Bar had turned into a squatter outfit had beenwidely noised abroad. Carpenter had stopped at Brill's late the nightbefore and announced the fact. Others had seemed already aware of it.

  From behind the bar Brill covertly studied the man who was responsiblefor this change. Four men from the Halfmoon D stood grouped at one endof the room. They split up and mingled among the others. Brill movedup and down behind the bar, polishing it with a towel. One afteranother he drew each of the men from the Halfmoon D into conversationwith the Three Bar foreman to determine whether or not they resentedhis move. There was no evidence of it in their speech. They had allbeen present when Harris rode the blue horse and had heard hissubsequent remark to Morrow. There was but one reference to the stateof affairs at the Three Bar.

  "Now you've gone and raised hell," one boy from the Halfmoon D remarkedto Harris. "You'll have folks out looking for your scalp." He loweredhis voice and Brill moved nearer to wipe away an imaginary spot on thebar. "It's Slade you'll have to buck," the boy warned. "There'slikely to be some excitement over in your neighborhood. I'd like rightwell to ride for the Three Bar next year. Hold a job for me in thespring."

  The men from the two outfits mingled as unrestrainedly as before and atlast Harris smiled across at Brill.

  "Well, have you sized it all up?" he asked.

  The storekeeper looked up quickly, knowing that Harris had read hispurpose in drawing him into conversation with the four men. Hepolished the bar thoughtfully, then nodded.

  "A man in my business has to keep posted--both ways," he said. "I justwanted to make sure. Five years ago every man would have quit theThree Bar like a snake--feeling was that strong. But the boys driftfrom place to place and they've seen both ends of it. They don't givea damn one way or the other now. Why should they? They've got nothingat stake. Five years ago you couldn't have hired a man to ride foryou. Now they'll be pouring in asking for jobs--just because theyfigure there'll be some excitement on tap."

  The men from the Halfmoon D were due back and inside of an hour theyrode off, leaving only Harris's men and the five card-players in theplace. Harris walked over to the table and the Three Bar men shiftedpositions, slouching sidewise at the bar or leaning with their backs toit, alertly watching this unexpected move as the foreman spoke to thealbino.

  "Let's you and I draw off and have a little talk," he said. "If youcan spare the time."

  Harper looked up at him in silence. He carefully tilted up the cornerof his hole-card and peeked at it, then turned his other cards facedown on the table.

  "Pass," he said, and rose to face Harris. "Lead the way."

  Harris moved over to another table and the two men sat down, facingeach other across it. He motioned to Evans and Lanky joined them.Harris plunged abruptly into what he had to say.

  "First off, Harper, I want you to get it straight that I'm not foolenough to threaten you--for I know you're not any more afraid of methan I am of you. This is just a little explaining, a business talk,so we'll both know where we stand. It's up to you whether we let eachother alone or fight."

  "Good start," the albino commented. "Go right on."

  "All right--it's like this," Harris resumed. "I'm going to have myhands full without you hiring out to pester us. I'm not out to reformthe country. They set the fashion of dog eat dog and every man forhimself; so the Three Bar is all that interests me. You keep out of myaffairs and I'll let you go your own gait. If you mix in I'll haveyour men hunted down like rats."

  Harper glanced toward the group at the bar.

  "You were prudent enough to pick a time when you're three to one totell me about that," he said. "If I'd kill you in your chair I mighthave some trouble getting out the door."

  "Of course I'd take every chance to play safe," Harris admitted. "Butthat is beside the point. I'd have told you the same thing if the oddshad been reversed."

  "Would you?" the albino pondered. "I wonder."

  "You know I would," Harris stated. "You've got brains, or you'd havebeen dead for twenty years. If I thought you were a haphazard homicideI wouldn't be sitting here. But you wouldn't kill a man withoutlooking a few weeks ahead and making sure it was safe."

  "Go ahead--Let's hear the rest of it," Harper urged. "You've got anoriginal line of talk."

  "You're playing one game and I'm playing mine," Harris said. "You'rein the saddle now--like you have been once or twice before. But youknow that the sentiment of a community reverses almost overnight.You've stepped out just ahead of a clean-up a time or two in the past.You know how it goes--your friends drop off like you had the plague.Every man's out after your scalp. I've got a hard bunch of terriersover at the Three Bar and you couldn't raid us without a battle bigenough to go down in history as the Three Bar war. Either way you'dlose for it would stir folks up--and when they're stirred you'rethrough. Do you remember what Al Moody did up on the Gallatin and whatold Con Ristine sprung on the Nations Trail? That will happen againright here."

  The two men were leaning toward each other, elbows resting on thetable. Harper relaxed and leaned back comfortably in his chair as hetwisted a smoke. Evans propped his feet on the table and Harris hungone knee over the arm of his chair. The men at the bar knew that somecrisis had been safely passed.

  "You talk as if I was running an outfit of my own and had a bunch ofriders that could swarm down on you," Harper objected. "I don't evenrun a brand of my own or have one man riding for me."

  "The wild bunch is riding for you," Harris stated.

  "Suppose that was true," Harper said. "Then what?"

  "In one country after the next they've hit the toboggan whenever theygot to feeling too strong. If you line up against me that time hascome again. If I get potted from the brush I've hedged it so thatthose boys that filed over there won't be left in the lurch. There'llbe a reward of a thousand dollars hung up for the scalp of each offifteen men whose names I gathered while I was prowling round--reliablemen to carry on what I've begun; and marshals thicker than flies toprotect the homestead filings on the Three Bar."

  "Then it might be bad policy to bushwhack you," Harper observed.

  "You can go your own gait," Harris said. "As long as you lay off ThreeBar cows. You invited me one time to come down to your hangout in theBreaks. I won't ever make that visit unless you call on the Three Barfirst; then, just out of politeness, I'll ride over at the head of ahundred men."

  "Then it don't look as if we'd get anywhere, visiting back and forth,"Harper said.

  "Now don't think I'm throwing a bluff or threatening; I'm just tellingyou. You could recite a number of things that could happen to me inreturn--all of 'em true. I'm just counting that you've got brains andcan see it's not going to help either one of us to get lined up wrong.What do you say--shall we call it hands off between the Three Bar andyou?"

  The albino half-closed his eyes, the pale eyeballs glittering throughthe slit of his lids as he reflected on this proposition, tapping acareless finger on his knee. He glanced absent-mindedly toward thebar, his thoughts wholly occupied with the matter in hand. A pair ofeyes that gazed back at him drew his own and he found himself lookingat Bentley, the man who repped with the Three Bar for Slade. Thealbino's suspicions were as fluid and easily roused as those of a beastof prey in a dangerous neighborhood. With one of those quick shifts ofwhich his mind was capable he concentrated every mental effort towardlinking Bentley with some unpleasant episode of the past. The man hadturned away and Harper could only sense a vague feeling that he wasdangerous to him, without definite point upon which to base hissuspicions. At the sound of Harris's voice his mind made anotherlightning shift back to the present.

  "Well?" Harris asked.

  "Why, if I had anything to do with it, like you seem to think, I'dadvise against our bucking each other," Harper said. "I'd try to getalong--and declare hands off." He rose, nodded to th
e two men andreturned to the stud game.

  "He'll do it too," Evans predicted. "There's that much fixedanyway--not a bad piece of work."

  The two men returned to the bar and Brill moved close to Harris. Forfifteen years he had stood behind that bar and observed the men of thewhole countryside at their worst--and best; and he knew men. As wellas if he had heard the words of the three at the table he knew thatHarris and Harper had reached an agreement of some sort that wassatisfactory to both.

  "Take the boys over a drink on me," Harris said, and Brill slid abottle and five whisky glasses on to a tray and moved over to the table.

  "Here's a drink on the Three Bar boss," he announced.

  Lang scowled, remembering the recent occasion when Harris had orderedthem off.

  "To hell with----" he commenced, but the albino cut him short.

  "Drink it," he said.

  Ten minutes later the five men rose to go. Harris looked at his watch.

  "I'm off," he said to Evans. "Try and get the boys home by to-morrowmorning if it's possible."

  He went outside and mounted as the five rustlers swung to their saddles.

  "I'm going your way as far as the forks," he said to Harper.

  The Three Bar men were treated to the sight of their foreman ridingdown the road beside Harper at the head of four of the worst ruffiansin the State.

  And behind the bar Brill moved softly back and forth when not servingdrinks, pausing opposite first one group and then the next to dab atthe polished wood with his cloth, listening carefully to theconversation and gauging it to determine whether the apparent sentimenttoward the squatter foreman was sincere or would prove different whenthe men, flushed with undiluted rye, were unrestrained by his presence.At one end of the bar Evans and Bentley conversed together in low tonesbut whenever Brill strolled casually to their end the conferencelagged. The few sentences which reached his ears were of trivialconcern.