by C. M. Curtis
“I could use a bite,” said Beeman.
“Wouldn’t mind some grub myself,” said Jeff, “now that you offer.” His stomach was empty and growling, and he was grateful to Catherine for saving him from going to bed hungry.
After a much needed meal of roast beef sandwiches and cold milk, Jeff thanked Catherine and stepped outside. As he walked toward the bunk house, he heard the kitchen door open and close. He turned and saw Eli walking toward him. His shirt was unbuttoned and he was barefoot. He carried a candle. Jeff waited as he approached.
“I wanted to talk to you, Webb.”
“Sure,” said Jeff, “where?”
“Here’s fine, it won’t take long. Just wanted to thank you for saving my dad’s life.”
Jeff merely nodded; this was awkward enough without him adding to it with words.
Eli looked at the gun on Jeff’s hip, grinned and said, “Hear you’re pretty good with that iron.”
Jeff glanced down at the gun but said nothing.
Eli said, “Think you could teach me?”
The look on Eli’s face made him seem to Jeff like a little boy. Jeff remembered Catherine telling him that Eli had idolized his big brother and that when Todd was killed in the war, Eli had begun running with Al Tannatt. Now Jeff got the distinct feeling the young man wanted to make him his new hero.
Seeing the look of distaste on Jeff’s face, Eli said, “I was just askin’.”
“Eli, if all you’re going to do all your life is look for somebody to follow, all you’re going to get is somebody else’s leavings. It takes strong people to build something worthwhile. People like your dad and grandma. If you want to follow somebody, you ought to follow them. Or maybe you could grow your own backbone and become the kind of man that leads.”
Eli stood there for an awkward moment, then gave a weak smile and a nod and turned and walked back to the house.
Jeff knew he had been harsh; he had done it deliberately. There were times when harshness was necessary; if life had taught him anything, it had taught him that. Still, he walked away feeling displeased.
When Emil Tannatt arrived with Sid Wilkins on Sunset Ridge at precisely nine o’clock, he found Marcellin and his party already there, having arrived a half hour early to scout the area against the possibility Tannatt might attempt some form of trickery. Jim and Catherine had ridden in the buggy, with Catherine driving. Jeff and Alvah Beeman had ridden their own horses.
Jeff had seen Sid Wilkins several times in town. He was one of the men who usually accompanied Al Tannatt, and Jeff had never liked the looks of him. Nervous and feral and dirty looking, he was the kind Jeff would expect to ride with a bully like Al Tannatt.
Beeman immediately took charge of the meeting. “Before we start I want all you men to turn over your pistols to me; you won’t need them here.”
This statement met with hostile silence until Marcellin made the first move. He carefully pulled his pistol from its holster and handed it to the sheriff, after which the other men did the same. This accomplished, Beeman folded his arms, and with a nod of his head, indicated the meeting was to proceed.
Marcellin and Tannatt sat staring at each other for a moment. Finally Marcellin said, “Why don’t you go first, Emil.”
“I didn’t say I’d talk, I said I’d listen. You’re the one who wanted to talk, so do it. If, and when I feel like saying something I’ll say it—without an invitation.”
For another long moment the two men stared at each other with hard eyes. Marcellin felt his mother’s foot pressing on top of his own, and finally he shrugged and said, “It’s pretty simple Tannatt. Al and four of your hands rode in to my yard, shooting. I tried to make it to the house but there was no chance, so I took cover and started shooting back. After the shooting started, Shorty came out with a shotgun and killed one of your men. Then he got hit and died. I was outnumbered, wounded, and out of bullets when Webb here showed up. You know the rest. Sid rode away; the rest didn’t. I’m sorry about it, but it was pure self-defense.”
Tannatt turned his gaze on Jeff. “Did you kill my boy?”
“Not by choice, Mr. Tannatt.”
“You a gunslick?”
Jeff started to say no, but caught himself. “Not by choice.”
Tannatt looked back at Marcellin. “You hirin’ gunmen now, Marcellin?” Without waiting for an answer, he asked, “Why?”
“I’m not a hired gun,” said Jeff, “and I don’t work for Mr. Marcellin. I work for Jake Sharp over at the sawmill.”
Tannatt pondered this information for a moment, mulling over the inconsistencies in his mind, disinclined to speak again until he could be sure he was on firm footing.
At length he said, “Sid here tells a different story.” He turned and nodded to Wilkins. “Go ahead, Sid.”
That Sid Wilkins was nervous was obvious. His gaze slipped furtively back and forth for a moment between his boss and Jim Marcellin, and when he did speak he turned toward Tannatt as if afraid to face the other members of the party. “Well, Al said he wanted to talk to Marcellin about Joe and Alex gettin’ strung up, but he didn’t think it was safe to go to the Circle M alone. So he told me, Chuck, Kinsey, and Bill to go along, just for protection. We rode up to Marcellin’s house, friendly, not wantin’ any trouble. They must’ve seen us comin’, because soon as we got there, the old man and Marcellin opened up on us. We shot back but we took the worst of it because we was in the open and they was behind cover. We just wanted to get out of there, but Webb came chargin’ in and killed Al, and then they had us boxed in. I was able to break through and I rode out with lead flyin’ all around me.”
“You’re a liar,” said Catherine.
Sid flinched as though he had been slapped and jerked around to face Catherine. “Ma’am, you got no right.”
“I have every right,” she retorted. “I was there. I saw what happened, and you’re a liar.”
Sid’s face turned as red as the bandanna he wore around his neck. “Ma’am, if you was a man you wouldn’t get away with sayin’ that to me.”
“Well, I’m not a man, and I’m saying it again. You’re a dirty liar, Sid Wilkins.”
Sid was manifestly uncomfortable. Despite his resentment at being called a liar he was at a distinct disadvantage because he knew it was true. He was not a man of great intelligence and up to this point in his life, whenever he had been confronted with a situation that strained his mental capacity, he had resorted to violence. This had always seemed to simplify things and bring them down to a level on which he felt competent.
But now he was faced with a situation in which violence was out of the question. Catherine’s presence on the day of the gunfight had so disconcerted him that he had not killed Marcellin when he had the chance. Now he wished he had killed both of them, but he was powerless and this only served to frighten and enrage him more. He squirmed in the saddle, glaring furiously at Catherine, realizing he could do nothing to shut her up, looking like a man who wished he could be somewhere else.
“Tell the truth, Sid,” said Catherine. “No more lies. She produced a revolver from beneath the shawl on her lap, cocking it as she pulled it out. Holding it with both hands, she aimed it directly at Sid’s glistening face.
“Tell the truth or I promise you by my grandmother’s honor I’ll pull this trigger.”
Sid’s eyes showed the gleam of fear. He worked his jaw muscles and licked his lips, occasionally throwing a pleading glance in the direction of Tannatt or Beeman, or even Marcellin. But these silent, desperate supplications met with impassive gazes.
“Boss?” he said. His tone and his eyes besought rescue. Tannatt said nothing.
“Don’t waste time talking about anything but the gun fight,” said Catherine. “This gun is heavy and my hands are already beginning to tremble. The longer you take, the more chance there’ll be of it accidentally going off.”
Sid could see Catherine was telling the truth. The barrel of the heavy navy colt she was holding was beg
inning to shake.
“Boss?” he said plaintively, his voice high-pitched. Emil Tannatt still said nothing.
Catherine spoke again. “I promise you, by my mother’s honor, that before I lower this gun I will either hear the truth from your lips or I will pull this trigger. It’s your choice, but understand, I will not be able to do this much longer; my arms are getting tired.”
Sid’s breath was coming fast and harsh as though from physical exertion, and great drops of sweat rolled down his forehead and cheeks.
“All right!” he almost screamed it. “All right.”
Turning to Tannatt, he said, “It was Al’s fault. You know we had to do what he told us. We’re just hired hands, Mr. Tannatt. Al was riled up because the Circle M had hanged Alex and Joe. He talked us into riding out there. He told us we was going teach Jim Marcellin and his boys a lesson.”
“Who fired the first shot?” asked Tannatt.
“We did . . . Al did.”
“Did Jim Marcellin and Shorty Grange know you were coming before you got there?”
Sid looked down and wiped sweat from his eyes with his sleeve. “No.”
Tannatt looked at Beeman. “Do you want to make an arrest here?”
Beeman shook his head.
Looking back at Sid, Tannatt said, “Ride back to the ranch and tell Seth you’re drawin’ your pay.”
When Sid was gone, Emil Tannatt sat for a long moment, staring at the distant blue-gray mountains. Finally he spoke again, looking at Marcellin. “All I can say is I’m sorry for what Al and the boys did and for the trouble you’ve been through.”
“There’s no need for apologies,” said Marcellin. “I’m sorry for your loss too, Emil; I know how it feels. I lost a son myself. I’m just glad we’re not going to be at war with each other. We both have enough problems without that, and after all,” he cast a quick, sidelong glance at his mother, “we are neighbors.”
At this Tannatt laughed mirthlessly. “It doesn’t look like we will be for much longer.”
“What do you mean?” asked Marcellin.
“I’m pulling out. I’ve been through some tough times on this ranch and I always pulled through, but it was never like this. These rustlers have finished me, Jim.”
“You mean you’re just going to walk away?” asked Marcellin, incredulously.
“Not quite, but almost. This morning a man stopped by to talk to me about buying the ranch. He’s buying land all over the valley. A couple of the bench ranchers have already sold out to him and he says several more are talking seriously about it. He made me an offer. It’s not much money but . . .” He shrugged.
The group was silent for a moment, and Tannatt continued, “I told him I’d have to think about it, but, to tell you the truth, I don’t think I have any choice. I don’t know how you’re doing Jim but I know you’ve been hit hard too. I mean no offense by this, but if you need to talk to him, he’s staying at the hotel in town for a few days.”
“I’m not ready for that yet,” said Marcellin. “I’m not saying I’m doing well, because that would be a lie, but I’m not ready to give up and leave everything I’ve worked for. I wish you would reconsider too, Emil, I’d hate to see you walk away from what you’ve built.”
“Jim, in the past month, I’ve lost five hired hands and a son. I don’t have enough men left to run the ranch, but I can’t hire more because I can’t make payroll as it is. Every year there’s less cattle to drive to market, and things aren’t getting any better.”
Marcellin exchanged a significant glance with Beeman who gave him a quick nod.
“Emil,” said Marcellin, “we think we have some information that will help us clear up this rustling problem.”
Tannatt’s face showed immediate interest.
Motioning to Jeff, Marcellin continued, “Webb here discovered it. I’ll let him tell you about it.”
Jeff explained to Tannatt what he had discovered at the south end of the valley, leaving nothing out except Fogarty’s identity. By the time he was finished, Tannatt was shaking his head in astonishment. “So that’s how they’ve been doing it. Who would’ve ever guessed?”
“Do you still think you’re going to sell out, Emil?” asked Beeman.
“I don’t think I have any choice, Alvah, I can’t pay my debts. Even if we stop the rustlers now it’ll take years for the herd to grow back to what it was. But I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not going to sell until after we take care of the rustlin’ snakes that ruined my herd. I wouldn’t miss out on that for anything in the world.” The look in the rancher’s eyes at that moment told Jeff no rustler could expect any mercy at the hands of Emil Tannatt.
“Where exactly is this rustler’s pass, Webb?” asked Tannatt. “I’d like to ride down there and see it for myself.”
“I’ll have to take you to it,” said Jeff. “There’s no way I could tell you how to get there; it’s too hard to find. There are thousands of small canyons and arroyos down there in the brakes. A man could look for years and never find this one.”
“When can we leave”? asked Tannatt.
“Tomorrow morning soon enough for you?” interjected Marcellin.
“Yep. Where shall we meet?”
“We can meet here.”
“It’s a long ride,” said Jeff. “We’d better leave early.”
“We’ll leave at sun-up,” said Marcellin. Then he added, “One more thing: I’m asking for everyone here to swear not to say a word about this to anyone until after we deal with the rustlers. We don’t know who we can trust.”
All those present assented.
Marcellin looked at Tannatt. “I’ll send a man over with Alex and Joe’s horses. I sure hope we get the men who killed them.”
Tannatt gave a quick nod. “I’ll be here in the morning.” He tipped his hat to Catherine, who had remained silent since Sid Wilkin’s confession. “Mrs. Marcellin, I’m glad we’re not going to be enemies; I’d rather have you on my side.”
Jeff and Beeman snickered, and Catherine blushed slightly. “Give my regards to Martha,” she said.
On the way back to the ranch, Beeman reproached Catherine for her unladylike conduct in pulling the gun on Sid Wilkins. “Catherine, I specifically told everyone to turn their guns over to me.”
“You did no such thing.”
“I most certainly did,” said Beeman in astonishment. “Everyone here heard me and handed me their guns.”
“What you said,” explained Catherine patiently, “was, ‘all you men give me your guns.’ I am not a man, Alvah.”
Marcellin suppressed a laugh.
“The point was,” said Beeman, starting to show frustration, “I didn’t want any gunplay. I only said for the men to give me their guns because I assumed that, being a lady, you wouldn’t be packing one. If I’d known you were, I would’ve asked for ‘everyone’ to turn over their guns.”
“Well if you wanted for ‘everyone’ to turn over their guns, you should have said for ‘everyone’ to turn over their guns,” retorted Catherine.
“Catherine,” said Beeman in open exasperation, “it should have been quite obvious . . .”
“Alvah,” interrupted Marcellin, “give it up. You’ll never get the last word with her.”
“That’s right,” said Catherine.
Chapter 16
Jeff rode back to town, arriving there at about noon. He rode directly to Sharp’s Mercantile, dismounted and tied his horse in front. He dreaded what he was about to do, but he had no choice. The time had come for him to leave. It had happened unexpectedly and there had been no chance to prepare. Jake would not be happy about it, but if he didn’t move quickly his chance would slip by.
Now that he knew about the rustling operations here in the valley, he believed he could use that knowledge to damage Tom Stewart and ultimately expose him and Fogarty. This was far more important than the need Jake Sharp had of him; too many people were affected by Stewart’s criminal activities. Even Sharp’s businesses would f
ail if the ranchers in the valley went under.
Sharp was in his corner office and was angry, as Jeff had expected him to be.
“You asked for a day off and I gave it to you. Then it turned into two. I’ve got a business to run here, Bob. A man works for me I need to be able to depend on him. Where have you been anyway?”
“Jake, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy, and I can’t break a promise.
Sharp was calmer now and sat down in the rickety, wooden chair behind his desk.
“Well, you might as well get back to work, but make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Jake,” said Jeff, “you’ve been real good to me. I appreciate it and I hope there will be no hard feelings over this, but I’m giving you my notice. I have some business to take care of and it’ll mean I’ll be leaving.”
Sharp stared at him for a moment, the surprise in his eyes slowly giving way to anger. “How much notice are you giving me? You know I have to find someone to replace you.”
“I have to leave tomorrow.”
Sharp sprang to his feet. “Tomorrow!”
“I’m sorry, Jake, it can’t be helped.”
Jake Sharp was not a man who kept his feelings bottled up. “I thought you were someone a man could count on. Now I’ll have to shut down the mill while I look for somebody else.”
“Jess and Ralph can run the mill if you give them a chance. I should be back day after tomorrow. I’ll help out for a couple of days while you find somebody else.”
“It won’t work. You should know that,” said Sharp hotly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather pouch. Opening it, he counted out some coins and laid them on the edge of the desk. “You have a few days’ pay coming. Take it and let’s just end it now.”
“Keep your money, Jake,” said Jeff.
“No sir, you take your pay. I keep my word.
Jeff picked up the coins and slowly put them in his pocket. Sharp was looking out the window now and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
