The Crimson Hills

by L. P. Holmes

  Sheriff Cole Ashabaugh was grizzled and lank, with harsh eyes, bleak and blue. Wall said: “Hello, Cole. What’s on your mind?”

  Looking at Wall, the cold glint sharpened in Ashabaugh’s eyes, reflecting no friendliness at all. “Some things,” said the sheriff, “I’ve never been able to understand at all.”

  Wall knew what he meant. Here it was again, the same old barrier of distrust and dislike that had risen to meet him in men he had once called friends. All since he had worked for Luke Lilavelt.

  “Cole,” he said curtly, “do you say howdy to Lilavelt when you meet him on the street?”

  It was a telling shot and a faint tide of red stained Cole Ashabaugh’s leathery cheeks. Luke Lilavelt was a political power in the county and those who held public office played their cards accordingly. The sheriff turned and looked past Wall at Jerry Connell.

  “You know why I’m here, Connell. I got a warrant for your arrest, drawn and sworn to in Judge Masterson’s office, charging you with complicity in attempted armed robbery and in the murder of Night Marshal Charles Ogden, in the town of Round Mountain, New Mexico. You’ll come along quiet?”

  “Of course, Sheriff,” said Jerry.

  Ashabaugh’s glance went to Judith, standing at her husband’s side, very pale of face and wide of eye. He touched his hat and slightly awkwardly said: “I ain’t enjoying this a bit, Missus Connell.”

  Dave Wall headed out to the corrals, catching up and saddling horses for Jerry and himself. As he walked back to the ranch house, leading the animals, Cole Ashabaugh moved out to meet him.

  “I came out here after Jerry Connell,” said the sheriff pointedly. “There’s no call for you to mix in, Wall.”

  “So?” retorted Wall. “Well, I’m mixing, Cole. I’m mixing plenty in a lot of things from here on out. Things are a lot different than they were ten days ago. I’m a free man again. You wouldn’t know what I mean by that, but it’s a fact. And so I’m looking forward to telling off a lot of proud damned hypocrites.”

  Again that faint flush touched Ashabaugh’s face. He was twisting up a cigarette. “Damned broad statement, Wall. Think you’re in the position to make it?”

  A faintly crooked, completely mirthless smile quirked Wall’s lips. “Cole, you’d be surprised.”

  Jerry Connell kissed his wife, went straight to his horse, and stepped into the saddle. Judith looked at him, twisting her hands, then whirled to Wall.

  “Dave. You’ll see … you’ll take care …?”

  Her voice husked and choked up. Dave Wall put an arm around her, his voice very gentle. “Old girl, have I ever let you down? Don’t worry. A lot of whelps are going to be kicked back into their kennels. Come on … chin up.”

  She hugged and kissed him, and then managed a strained, white little smile and a wave as they rode off. Wall, swinging in beside the sheriff, drawled: “You must feel like a hell of a big man, Cole, at a time like this. Yeah, you must feel big and noble and proud … for when you slapped this arrest on Jerry, you were doing some dirty work for Luke Lilavelt.”

  Ashabaugh swung a savage head. “Don’t try and rawhide me, Wall. I’m merely carrying out the duty of my office, and you know it. I told your sister I wasn’t enjoying it, didn’t I?”

  Wall’s slightly mocking grin worked again. “Ah. That good old shield of duty. Sure handy to hide behind, Cole. But you know who swore out that warrant, don’t you? So do I. That esteemed citizen, Mister Luke Lilavelt. So, when you serve it, you’re working for him. Oh, don’t run a fever, Cole. I know how it is. I know exactly how it is.”

  Cole Ashabaugh ground his teeth but did not answer. He stared straight ahead and Dave Wall let things ride that way. He was fully aware of the truth of the sheriff’s statement. In arresting Jerry Connell, Cole Ashabaugh was merely fulfilling a sworn duty; he had no other choice. Secretly Wall had always liked Ashabaugh. As sheriffs went, he was a good one. But in his newfound sense of freedom, Dave wouldn’t have been wholly human if he hadn’t found some satisfaction in needling a man who had taken to looking askance at him ever since he’d been riding for Lilavelt. Actually he held nothing against Ashabaugh for that, because the sheriff, like a lot of others, didn’t understand. But he got a sort of morbid pleasure in watching Ashabaugh squirm.

  They rode into Basin at midmorning and pulled up in front of Judge Masterson’s office. As they swung down, Wall said: “You might as well wait for me, Cole, because I’m going to see Jerry through this, all the way, every step of the way. I won’t be long.”

  Before the sheriff could answer, Wall was striding swiftly along the street, an unconscious, forward-leaning eagerness in his manner. He went as far as Luke Lilavelt’s office, tried the door, and found it locked. He cupped his hands about his face and peered in at the window. The office was definitely empty, so he turned away and came back to the sheriff and his prisoner.

  Ashabaugh looked at him with a measuring intentness. “Nobody home, I gather. What would you have done if there had been?”

  “Why,” answered Dave with sudden grimness, “I’d have slapped around one of the world’s lowest whelps. Yeah, I’d have slapped the raw hell out of him. I’d have tried to make him go for a gun, and when he did, I’d have shot him to rags.”

  “That,” said Ashabaugh, “sounds like you’re riding along a pretty dangerous trail, Wall. I don’t need to tell you, do I, that I won’t stand for it?”

  Wall showed him a small and wicked smile. He filled a deep chest and stretched a long and sinewy pair of arms. “Cole, until it’s over with, you won’t have a damned thing to say about it. Yeah, you’re right. A dangerous trail, and I’m sure riding it.”

  Chapter Five

  Judge James Masterson had a fine, stern face under a crown of snow-white hair. He was a man almost fanatically dedicated to the integrity of the law, to its exact science and letter and protocol. But he was a just man and, under his cloak of sternness, an intensely human one. His attitude toward Jerry Connell was grave but not unfriendly, but toward Dave Wall he was frigidly cool.

  “I wish to talk to Mister Connell alone,” he said. “Sheriff, you will leave us so, and take Mister Wall with you.”

  Dave said: “A moment, Judge. Understand, I’m not trying to tell you your business. But you’re a fair man, and to be fair in this you’ll have to hear all the story. And I’d like Cole Ashabaugh to hear it, too. I think you’ll agree to the justice of what I ask, once you’ve heard what Jerry and I have to say.”

  Judge Masterson leaned his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingertips, while his glance searched Dave Wall’s face. “I would hardly take it kindly, Mister Wall, if you are playing with the idea that you can in any way influence my judicial duty.”

  Now it was Jerry Connell who spoke up. “Judge, Dave doesn’t mean it that way at all. All he and I want is for you to know the truth. After we’ve given you that, you can take over from there and whatever you say and do will be more than all right with both of us.”

  The judge swung his eyes to Jerry. “Mister Connell, I presume Sheriff Ashabaugh has given you the gist of the warrant he holds. The warrant speaks of armed robbery … murder. Those are very serious charges, Mister Connell … very serious. A man accused of them is in no position to bargain, I can assure you of that. I would say that your smartest move would be to find a good attorney to represent you, stand on all your legal prerogatives and rights. Anything you say in front of Sheriff Ashabaugh could conceivably be used against you.”

  “I’m not trying to hedge or dodge in any way, Judge,” said Jerry soberly. “I’m trying to clear up my life for the sake of my wife and family. If the truth won’t clear it up, then nothing will. If a man can’t ride on the truth and what it will bring him, then nothing is worth a damn, I guess.”

  The judge considered for some time in silence. Then he said dryly: “You have a certain persuasiveness about you, Mister Conne
ll. This is … er … somewhat irregular, but …” He leaned back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap. “Go ahead, Mister Connell. I’m listening.”

  Jerry went through with his story, just as he had given it to Judith the night before. Judge Masterson listened without comment, his eyes never leaving Jerry’s face. Not until Jerry finished did he speak.

  “It would have helped your case a great deal if you’d have come to me long ago with these facts, Mister Connell. Why didn’t you?”

  “Maybe I can answer that, Judge,” said Dave Wall. “It’s pretty hard to turn your back on the future when you’re young, when you’ve met and fallen in love with the only girl. And you can believe this or not, sir. But just last night Jerry and I decided to come to you and put all our cards on the table. Given another few hours and Sheriff Ashabaugh wouldn’t have had to come after Jerry.”

  The judge studied Wall again. “Mister Connell is your brother-in-law, Mister Wall. You’ve been familiar with this ancient trouble of his for some time?”

  “Jerry,” said Wall quietly, “told me the whole story when he came to me asking permission to marry my sister.”

  “And you offered no objections, Mister Wall?”

  “As I saw it, Judge, it took a pretty damned good man to act as squarely as Jerry did. He could have said nothing of his past trouble, gambling that it would never catch up with him. But he thought too much of my sister to do that. He put the cards on the table and they were good enough for me. And if every man was eternally damned for some fool, reckless mistake he’d made in his life, there’d be few of us who’d ever reach heaven.”

  It could have been a gleam of reflected sunlight pouring in at the office window, or it might have been the faintest suggestion of a twinkle, far back in Judge Masterson’s eyes. He cleared his throat and dryly said: “Sage observation, Mister Wall. Which brings us to consideration of how this case will be handled.”

  “But there’s more to tell, sir,” said Jerry swiftly. “And this concerns Dave. Maybe, like others, you’ve wondered why a man like Dave Wall could stomach working for Luke Lilavelt?”

  The judge was swiftly stern again. “We’re not here to discuss Mister Lilavelt.”

  “We’ve got to,” asserted Jerry doggedly, “if we’re to get the whole picture, sir. Just how Luke Lilavelt got hold of that trouble of mine, I don’t know. But he did. It was some time after Judith and I were married. I had my ranch going in pretty good shape and there were a couple of youngsters in the family by that time. Somehow Lilavelt heard of that Round Mountain affair. He cornered Dave, told him what he knew, and threatened to expose me unless Dave went to work for him and handled all sorts of mean jobs in Window Sash interests.”

  Jerry paused, running a lean hand through his hair. Judge Masterson flashed a quick and startled look at Dave Wall, then turned his attention to Jerry once more, leaning forward in his chair, deeply interested.

  “I felt like a damned coyote,” went on Jerry, “letting Dave make a sacrifice like that, for I knew what it would mean to his good name. I was ready right then to come to you with the story. But Dave said no. He said this was something that had to be done to protect Judith and the children. He said it wasn’t the right time to open the books, that what we had to do was get the ranch in better shape, get some money ahead, and show plenty of evidence of good intention toward being a decent citizen on my part. So that’s the way it was, sir.”

  Both Judge Masterson and Sheriff Cole Ashabaugh were now staring at Dave Wall, and Ashabaugh in particular seemed increasingly ill at ease. The judge steepled his fingers again and fixed his glance on them, frowning. Once or twice he nodded, as though over sober inner thoughts. Finally he began to speak, with troubled slowness.

  “I am being irregular in this, very irregular, but there seems to be no other solution. I admit I’ve wondered many times over Luke Lilavelt’s part in this. Several years ago it was when he first came to me, bringing a sealed envelope, asking that I keep it in my safe. His instructions were that the contents of the envelope remain unknown unless he came to claim it and open it in my presence, or in event of his sudden and violent death. In which case I was to open the envelope and act upon what the contents disclosed. Last evening Lilavelt did come to this office, asked for the envelope, and opened it. In it was this old Reward poster, or dodger as Sheriff Ashabaugh refers to it. On the basis of it, Lilavelt swore out the warrant of arrest.”

  Judge Masterson paused, glanced at Dave Wall. “You have said, Mister Wall, that you and Mister Connell had decided to come to me with the story, even if Sheriff Ashabaugh had not moved into the picture with the warrant of arrest. That suggests that you had broken with Lilavelt.”

  Wall nodded. “I had, Judge.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Dave Wall was quiet for a moment, brooding. Then he shrugged. “Say that I’d gone just as far as I could. That I’d come to the point where I had to revolt. Word that I had was carried to Lilavelt, so he made good his threat to strike at Jerry. So, here we are.”

  The judge got a well-loved pipe from a desk drawer, loaded and lit it, and puffed reflectively. “I am,” he said slowly, “a great believer in the integrity of the law. I also hold firmly to the principle that violaters of the law be punished in proportion to the severity of the crime. However, I am always willing to give full and fair consideration to any and all mitigating circumstances, and to consider the character of the defendant, both before and after. I also agree to a considerable extent with Mister Wall’s theory that no man should be everlastingly damned for a single mistake, unless it be of the sort that is completely unforgivable. Your mistake, Mister Connell, was not of that sort. So here is what I shall do.”

  Judge Masterson leaned forward and his words and manner became crisp.

  “There is only one way to handle this matter … one sound way. That is by due process of law. Let us say that our personal sentiments might be to tear up the warrant and forget the whole matter. But this would not dispose of the trouble permanently … you would always have the charge hanging over you. The only way to clear your name and guarantee your future and the happiness of your family, Mister Connell, is through the law and its processes. So I must and will get in contact with the authorities in New Mexico. It is quite possible, though I would not draw too much comfort from the thought, that they are no longer overly concerned with the affair. After all, it did happen some time ago, witnesses may have scattered and died, and the authorities there might feel that they could not, in any case, win a conviction. Such things have happened before. But we must find out about that. For the present, I have no other recourse than to remand you to the custody of Sheriff Ashabaugh. We will hope that the period of incarceration will not be too lengthy and you have my word that I will push for a speedy solution of the affair. And …”—here Judge Masterson’s innate kindliness shone through—“I will also go to the greatest length to see that your interests are presented in the most favorable light.”

  Jerry Connell drew a deep breath and blurted boyishly: “Judge, you’re one damned white man. Your judgment is good enough for me.”

  The judge’s stern face lit up with a particularly warm and human smile. “You have a fine and lovely wife and a thriving young family, Mister Connell. We must all do our best by them.”

  Then Judge Masterson did another surprising thing. He got to his feet, moved around the desk to face Dave Wall, and held out his hand. “Will you do me the honor, Mister Wall?”

  “It is my pleasure, sir,” said Dave as their hands met.

  They left the judge’s office and now Jerry turned to Dave. “There’ll have to be a good man out at the ranch, Dave. Somebody to keep the work caught up and keep an eye on things. I don’t want Judy and the kids left out there alone. That damned Luke Lilavelt might try ’most anything if this scheme of his begins to backfire.”

  “You leave that to me,” answered Dave.
“And Judy will be in to see you regularly. There’ll be no objection to that, will there, Sheriff?”

  “You know damned well there won’t,” growled Cole Ashabaugh. “I want you to wait right here for me, Wall. All right, Jerry.”

  So Jerry Connell went off to jail and Dave Wall stood and looked the street over, while building a thoughtful cigarette. This thing was in the open now. All in all, thinking about it, Dave was satisfied with the way things were working out. Judge Masterson had been tolerant and fair. It was going to be a little rough on Jerry, cooling his heels behind bars. And it would be even rougher on Judy, for Dave well knew how proud she was. However, life was that way. No trail was ever completely smooth, and if the matter came out all right, the future for Judy and Jerry would be bright. Judge Masterson was completely right about the need of clearing Jerry’s name, once and for all, by due process of the law.

  Dave had smoked his cigarette down and tossed the butt into the street’s warm dust when Cole Ashabaugh came stamping up. For a moment he stood at Dave Wall’s side, saying nothing. Then he cleared his throat harshly.

  “I guess I got an apology to make to you, Dave … so I’m making it. I had you all wrong as to why you worked for Lilavelt and let him push you around like you did.”

  Dave grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Forget it, Cole. You’re not alone. A lot of people have wondered. Most of them have been fair enough, all things considered. A few have jumped at the chance to rub it in. Those I intend to educate at the first opportunity. I’m serving notice to that effect, right now. I hope you’re not going to argue the point with me.”

  Cole Ashabaugh scraped a boot along the board sidewalk. “Within limits,” he said gruffly, “I’ll even wish you luck. But don’t go hog wild, man. I don’t want to have to come after you. Now, something else. About that good man to take over out at Connell’s ranch. How would my brother Holt do? He just finished topping off a bunch of young saddle stuff for Henry Laramore last week and hasn’t a thing on his mind right now but his hat.”