Return of the Outlaw

by C. M. Curtis

  Beeman smiled. “Get rid of the dust in your throat?”

  “Turned it to mud. Like I said, mud’s better.”

  Beeman’s expression turned serious. “What do you think about this whole mess, Seth?”

  “I think there’s trouble brewing, Alvah, unless a miracle happens.”

  “Of course there’s trouble brewing, a blind man could see that, but what’s your position in it all?”

  “I don’t have a position. I just ride for the brand.”

  Seth was obviously being evasive, but Beeman did not intend to be put off so easily. “We both know you have a stronger position than just a hired hand, especially now that Al’s dead.”

  Seth’s whole body tightened, his displeasure making a furrow down the center of his brow. “What does Al’s death have to do with me?” he demanded.

  Beeman’s reply was hard and direct. “Why, you know good and well what it has to do with you.”

  Seth’s face flushed and he set the beer down hard on the bar. He started to turn away, but Beeman laid a hand on his shoulder. “Now, don’t go getting hot on me, Seth, I’m trying to avoid a range war here and I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you, just because you’re shy about what’s between you and Louise.”

  A deeper anger settled on Seth’s face. He glared at Beeman for a moment, and then his eyes softened and the tightness around his mouth relaxed. Picking up the beer mug, he drained it and stared for a moment at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Turning back to face Beeman he said, “So you know about me and Louise?”

  “The whole valley does, Seth. Did you two really think you could hide it? The thing I don’t understand is why you are ashamed of it. Louise is a fine girl.”

  Seth smiled. “She is Alvah; I’ve never known a finer one, and,” he added sharply, “virtuous too, I want you to know that.” He spoke the words in the manner of a man who is prepared to defend the honor of his love.

  Beeman said, “Never doubted it, Seth. ‘Nother beer?”

  Seth nodded.

  Beeman waved a finger at Charlie, who gave a slight nod.

  “It ain’t been easy working for the Tannatt’s,” said Seth. “Emil’s hard, but he’s fair. But Al, that was another matter. He was mean—just plain bad to the core. His pa never could see it, or he never could admit it. A1 was mad when Emil made me foreman instead of him. Hated me for it. I think he hated his pa too.”

  “I think he hated everyone,” said Beeman. “He was full of hate.”

  “He caused his folks a lot of grief,” murmured Seth.

  “I know it,” agreed Beeman. “No one’s going to miss him for long. Emil’s going to need you now more than ever. I’d say that puts you in a pretty good position.”

  “That’s the problem, Alvah. I wish Emil had another son, not like Al, but somebody he could leave the ranch to.”

  “A son-in-law is almost as good as a son.”

  “But I don’t want that. All I wanted was to marry Louise, work hard, save some money and start a spread of my own. It wouldn’t have to be a big one like the Double T; it just had to be mine; something I built from the bottom. I love Louise, I love her for herself and I don’t want anybody to ever think I married her so I could get her father’s ranch.”

  Beeman smiled, suddenly feeling fatherly toward this young man. “The thing you need to do, first off Seth, is to stop feeling guilty about being glad Al’s dead. The second is to stop worrying about what people will think and ask Emil Tannatt for his daughter’s hand. Then, if you want to save money and start your own spread I don’t see how anybody can stop you.” He glanced at Seth, checking his reaction. He was pushing the young man hard and he knew it.

  He continued, “Emil’s not as young as you are, but he’s not ninety either. It’s going to be a lot of years before he’s ready to trade his saddle for a rockin’ chair. If I were you I’d quit worrying so much and start planning a wedding.”

  Seth stared at Beeman incredulously.

  “I can’t do that to those people. To tell them about me and Louise; why it might be more than they could take right now.”

  Beeman laughed out loud and Seth colored.

  “How old are you, Seth?”

  “Twenty four.”

  “In about fifteen more years you’re going to realize something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That when people get to be forty years old they don’t suddenly turn deaf, blind, and stupid. I doubt there’s anything you could tell the Tannatt’s that they haven’t already figured out. Why do you think Emil made you his foreman instead of Al, and kept you around when Al hated you so much? My guess is he and Martha know exactly how you and Louise feel about each other and they figure you’re a good catch for her. But if you don’t make your move pretty quick, they may start having second thoughts.”

  Seth’s face assumed an expression that combined perplexity and misery. The effect was comical, and the sheriff chuckled inwardly but kept a straight face. In time, Seth too would be able to laugh about this. Right now he didn’t need to feel ridiculed.

  Beeman said, “Love is a fine thing, Seth; it kind of glows inside you and you can feel it in there. But it can be seen on the outside too and the hotter you feel it on the inside the brighter it shows up to people around you.”

  Seth was no longer interested in his beer, and Beeman suggested they step over to his office. It was a nice night. Beeman thought he would sit out on the porch with Mary for a while before going to bed, then he remembered he had to ride to the Circle M.

  Inside the office he spoke again, “We got a little sidetracked there, but I still need to talk to you about something. What have you heard about the fight at the Circle M?” He motioned Seth to have a seat and settled his own heavy frame on the edge of the desk. Seth replied, “Sid says they rode in peaceable, just wanting to talk, and Marcellin and old Shorty opened up on ‘em.”

  “What do you think happened?” asked Beeman.

  “I know what happened and Sid’s a liar. I don’t think Al Tannatt ever did anything peaceable in his life. Al was hunting trouble and he took advantage of the fact that the boys were steamed over Alex and Joe being lynched.”

  “Do you think you could convince Emil of that?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.”

  “Would you try?”

  “I guess,” said Seth somberly. He laughed as something struck him funny. “Anything else you think I should talk to Emil about tonight? Maybe get him to give up swearin’ or contribute to the widows and orphans fund?”

  Beeman chuckled and shook his head. “I know, Seth, you’re riding out of here with a bigger load than you brought in.”

  Seth shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll do what I can.”

  After Seth rode out, Beeman sat for a while, debating in his mind whether or not to advise Bob Webb of the meeting in the morning at Sunset Ridge. He worried that Webb’s presence may only serve to aggravate the delicacy of the situation. After all, Webb was the one who had killed Al Tannatt. In the end he concluded that in order to avert disaster, everything needed to be brought out into the open and dealt with, including who killed Al and why. So, before making his final rounds he gave his deputy, Orville Babcock, instructions to go out to Jeff’s place and inform him of the meeting and if possible get him to promise to be there. Then he completed his rounds and went home.

  While Mary was preparing food and coffee for him to take with him on the trail, Beeman saddled his horse. Returning to the office, he met Babcock who had just come back from Jeff’s place.

  “Webb’s not out there,” said Babcock. “I rode over to the sawmill. Jake is still there, doing book-work; he said Webb asked for the day off.”

  “All right,” said Beeman. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Beeman rode over to Arnette’s, already starting to feel tired and wishing he could go home and go to bed instead of making the long ride out to the Circle M.

  At Arnette’s, Nancy was clean
ing tables and Arnette was bustling around, filling salt shakers and shaking tablecloths. They were both anxious to close up and go home after a long day on their feet. Several loose strands of hair hung down on Arnette’s forehead, and her apron and blouse showed stains of cooking and perspiration. She looked expectantly at Beeman but continued with her work when he indicated he had come to speak with Nancy.

  “Evening, Sheriff,” said Nancy. She smiled and arranged her hair with one hand in the unconscious way she had when she was around men.

  “Evening, Nancy, have you seen Webb today?”

  “He left.”

  “Did he say when he was coming back?”

  “He said sometime this evening, but to be honest I don’t expect we’ll see him again around here.”

  “Any particular reason you think that way?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, Alvah; he killed Al Tannatt.”

  “Webb didn’t seem to me like the type that would run, but you know him better than I do.

  “She shrugged her shoulders. “You’ve got the wrong idea, Sheriff; I don’t know him any better than anyone else around here.”

  “I always kind of thought . . .”

  “No, Sheriff. I confess, I tried to get him interested in me but . . .” She hesitated. “It was like he was somewhere else. I mean, his thoughts, his heart. Do you understand?”

  Beeman nodded. He had the same impression about Webb. He would have bet there was much more to the man than anyone here in the valley imagined.

  Nancy was looking at him in a way that told him there was nothing more to be learned here. Arnette was turning out the bracket lamps.

  “Thanks for your time, Nancy.” With a nod to Arnette, who locked the door behind him, he left.

  It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when Beeman crested the hill from which the Circle M ranch headquarters could be seen dimly in the light of a slit of a moon. He urged his horse forward, tired of the saddle, anxious now to arrive at his destination still a half mile away. Suddenly, out of the darkness came a voice. “Hold ‘er right there.”

  Beeman’s insides went cold as he abruptly reined in his horse.

  “Hold a match up to your face.”

  Beeman thought he recognized the voice. More at ease now, he lit a match, holding it in front of his face. “Cracker?” he ventured.

  “Evenin’ Alvah, or is it mornin’ already?” Cracker drew his horse up next to Beeman’s.

  The match burned Beeman’s thumb and he flicked it away. Striking another, he pulled out his watch and said, “One o’clock, straight up.”

  “Just what I thought,” said Cracker. “You’re too late for supper and too early for breakfast so you must have another reason for riding out here.”

  “I do. How many of you are skulking around in the shadows tonight?”

  “Why Alvah,”said Cracker in mock indignation, “I’ll have you know I’ve never skulked in my life. Why if you’d got here a little sooner you’d a seen me standing at the top of that hill with a lantern on my head, blowin’ a bugle.”

  Beeman laughed. “You can call your boys in and all of you can get some sleep.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Tannatt’s willing to talk. “Seth Blake rode in to town tonight to give me the message.”

  “Could be a trick.”

  “Could be but I don’t think so.”

  “Do you trust Tannatt?”

  “I don’t know, but I trust Seth. Anyway, if you’ll relay the message to Jim for me, I think I’ll just go straight to the bunk house and see if I can find an empty bunk.”

  “Go right ahead, you’re welcome to it.”

  “Thanks. Tell Jim that Tannatt agreed to nine o’clock on Sunset Ridge and only those who actually witnessed the fight are to be there.”

  “I’ll tell him,” said Cracker. “Is Webb going to be there?”

  “I couldn’t find him. Nancy over at Arnette’s said he rode out early yesterday morning. He had her pack him a big lunch. She said he told her he was coming back last night but she didn’t think he would; thinks he hightailed it.”

  “Probably the smart thing to do, though he didn’t seem like the type to run,” said Cracker. “I would’ve figured he’d stick.”

  “What for? He’s got nothing here; he’s just a drifter. He might as well drift to some other town where nobody’s gunnin’ for him.”

  “He’s not an ordinary drifter,” said Cracker.

  “What is he then?”

  For a while I thought he was a hired gun, maybe even Dick Masion, but he’s not that either.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Dick Masion would’ve never rode in to the middle of that fight. He would’ve watched from a distance and if the man he was after survived, he would’ve probably bushwhacked him later on. Anyway what reason would Dick Masion or any other hired gun have for saving Jim Marcellin’s life?”

  Beeman pondered this information in silence for a moment.

  “There’s something else too,” resumed Cracker “When Jim offered him a job, Webb thought he was being offered work as a puncher. But when he found out Jim wanted a gunman, he acted insulted and turned it down.”

  Beeman did not approve of this bit of news. “I don’t like the idea of people starting to hire gunmen around here.”

  “You might see it a little different if Al Tannatt and those four boys had been shootin’ at you, Alvah. Besides the gunmen are already here, we just don’t know who hired ‘em.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Rand Fogarty.”

  “Fogarty’s here?” asked the sheriff incredulously.

  “He was a while back; we saw him.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “You’re no match for Fogarty,” said Cracker. “There’s nobody in the valley that is.”

  “Next time, tell me, understand?”

  Cracker made no reply, and the men rode in silence for a time. Presently Beeman spoke again. “Do you have any suspicions on who’s doing the rustling?”‘

  “Not really, maybe it’s the Tannatts.”

  “They’ve lost cattle too,” Beeman pointed out.

  “So they say.”

  “Could be anybody,” said Beeman. “Could even be the Circle M.”

  “I suppose from your point of view anybody and everybody has to be a suspect but it ain’t the Circle M and I think you know it. The big question is: how are they getting them out of the valley?”

  “You figure that out and my guess is you’ll have figured out who’s doing it. Right now my biggest concern is what’s going to happen tomorrow. If things go bad, cows won’t matter anyhow because inside of three months there won’t be enough men left alive in this valley to run them.”

  They were nearing the ranch house and they heard hoof beats coming toward them. The figure of a horse and rider loomed out of the darkness. It was Reef.

  “What?” queried Cracker.

  “Webb’s here. He was comin’ up the south trail and I escorted him in. He’s leadin’ two Double T horses but he won’t say where he got ‘em. Says he wants to see the boss.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Over at the corral. I told him I’d come and talk to you.”

  “Go wake up Hank and Carlos. You hit the sack. Have Carlos and Bill take the next watch and tell Hank I need to talk to him.”

  Within five minutes, Cracker, Beeman, Hank, and Jeff were assembled in the front room of the ranch house. A few muttered greetings were exchanged and there was silence as the men waited for Marcellin.

  Presently the door to the interior of the house swung open, and slowly, stiffly, Marcellin limped into the room. He stopped and surveyed the group for a moment and said, “If you gents are here for my wake you’re a little early, but you probably won’t have too much longer to wait.” This comment and the ensuing laughter served to attenuate some of the solemnity that had heretofore marked the gathering. Marcellin made his way to
his chair and sat down facing the group of men, some of whom were standing while others sat in the chairs scattered around the room.

  Looking at his foreman he said, “Well, what’s up?”

  Hank shrugged, surprised. “Don’t look at me, I was asleep.”

  “I’ll start,” said Beeman. “Seth Blake blew into town tonight and said Emil’s willing to talk. He’ll meet you on Sunset Ridge tomorrow at nine.”

  “Good,” said Marcellin. “You’ll be there too, won’t you Alvah?”

  “Yes. Tannatt also wants anybody else involved in the shooting or anyone who witnessed it to be there.”

  He turned to Jeff. “That means you too, Webb.”

  “Fine,” said Jeff.

  “That’s all I have,” said Beeman.

  Now, all eyes turned to Jeff. The men were curious to know what had brought him here at this hour of the night.

  Briefly and without mentioning Fogarty’s name, Jeff related how he had followed Fogarty’s trail into the brakes, and of his discovery of the Rustler’s Pass and the meadow on the other side where he had found the two Double T horses. This discovery was met with astonishment, and everyone was eager to know the exact location of the pass.

  “I can’t tell you how to get there,” Jeff said. “It’s too tricky. I’d have to take you.”

  Beeman spoke, “Who were you following, Webb, and why?”

  Jeff hesitated for a moment and the group was silent, awaiting his reply. Jeff finally answered, “Someone I know and have reason to distrust.”

  Beeman was obviously not satisfied with this answer but demanded no more information from Jeff. “So what do you intend to do now?” he asked of Marcellin.

  “We’ll talk to Tannatt tomorrow and we’ll decide together. He should be in on it with us.”

  It was agreed upon and Marcellin said, “Alvah, you may as well spend what’s left of the night in the bunk house. You too, Webb.”

  Both Jeff and Beeman agreed with this plan. Just then there was a tap at the door to the hallway.

  “Yes?” said Marcellin.

  Catherine entered the room, wearing a robe and a shawl. “Jim, were you going to offer our guests something to eat? Some of them may be hungry.”