the Rider Of Ruby Hills (1986)

by L'amour, Louis

  "I do."

  "Boss?" A tall, lean, and red-headed cowhand had walked up to them, and when they turned, he asked, "Who has the Gallows Frame brand?"

  "Gallows Frame?" Vernon shrugged. "Never heard of it. Where did you see it?"

  "Up toward Thousand Springs. Seen several mighty fine lookin' bulls an' a few cows up thataway an' all wearin' that brand, a gallows frame with a ready noose hangin' from it. An' them cows, why they are wilder'n all get-out. Couldn't get nowhere near 'em."

  "That's something new," Vernon commented. "Have you seen any of them, Sherry?"

  She shook her head, but there was a strange expression in her eyes. She glanced over at Ross Haney, who listened with an innocence combined with humor that would have been a perfect giveaway to anyone who knew him.

  "No, I haven't seen any of them, Bob." She looked at the redhead again. "Mabry, have you met Ross Haney? He's new around here, but I imagine he's interested in brands."

  Mabry turned to Haney and grinned. "Heard somethin' about you," he said. "Seems you had a run-in with Syd Berdue."

  Ross noted that Kerb Dahl's fingers had almost ceased to move in their work on the girth.

  Mabry walked away with Bob Vernon, and Sherry turned to Ross, her eyes cool but friendly. "I thought you might be interested in knowing Bill Mabry. He was always a good friend of that cowhand they were looking for in town-Roily Burt."

  Haney's eyes shifted to her thoughtfully. There seemed to be very little this girl did not know. She would be good to have for a friend, and not at all good as an enemy. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful. Her eyes never seemed asleep; she seemed to see everything and to comprehend what she was seeing. Was that a lucky guess about Burt? Or did she know? Would Kinney have told her?

  Of course, he recalled, Kinney had said she had suggested him. That might be it. She was guessing.

  Dahl's ears were obviously tuned to catch every word, so he turned. "Shall we walk over and sit down?" He took her elbow and guided her to a seat under one of the huge cotton- woods.

  "Sherry," he said suddenly, "I told Bob I didn't intend to pay no attention to this engagement of yours unless I found out you were in love with Levitt. Are you?"

  She looked away quickly, her face suddenly pale and her lips tight. Finally, she spoke. "Why else would a girl be engaged to a man?"

  "I haven't an idea. There might be reasons." He stared at her, and then his eyes strayed to Dahl. "Until you tell me you do, and look me in the eye when you say it, I'm goin' ahead. I want you, Sherry. I want you like I never wanted anything in this world, an' I mean to have you if you could care for me. I'm not askin' you now. Just tellin' you. When I came into this valley I came expectin' trouble, an' I thought I knew all the angles. Well, I've found out there's somethin' more goin' on here than I expected, an' its somethin' you know about.

  "Maybe you don't know it all. I'm bankin' you don't. You heard me talkin' to myself. Well, what I said then goes. I'm here alone, an' I'm ridin' for my own brand, an' you've guessed right, for that Gallows Frame is mine, an' the noose is for anybody who wants to hang on it.

  "The RR spread an' the Box N are controlled by a couple of range pirates. They whipped and murdered smaller, weaker men to get what they've got. If they keep it, they'll know they've been in a fight."

  Sherry had listened intently. Her face had become serious. "You can't do anything alone, Ross! You must have help!" She put her hand on his arm. "Ross, is Roily safe? Understand, I am not asking you where he is, just if he is safe.

  He did me a good turn once, and he's an honest man."

  "He's safe. For your own information, and not to be repeated, he's workin' for me now. But he can't do much for another ten days or more, an' by that time it may be too late. Can I rely on Mabry?"

  "You can. If he will work for you, he'll die for you and kill for you if it's in the right kind of fight. He was Burt's best friend."

  "Then if I can talk to him, you'll lose a hand." He looked down at her. "Sherry, what's goin' on here? Who is Star Levitt? Who are those men I saw in town? Who's this Kerb Dahl, and Voyle? I know there's some connection."

  She got up quickly. "I can't talk about that. Star Levitt is going to be my husband."

  Ross got up, too. Roughly, he picked up his hat and jerked it on his head; then he stood there, hands on hips, staring at her.

  "Not Levitt!" he said harshly. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll find out anyway!"

  He turned abruptly and saw the two men he had seen in town at the restaurant. Kerb Dahl and the shorter, hard-faced man.

  In that single instant he became aware of many things. Bob Vernon stood in the door, white as death. Kerb Dahl, a hard gleam in his eyes, was on the right and he walked with elbows bent, hands swinging at his gun butts. Behind them Haney could see the big, old tree with a bench around it and a rusty horseshoe nailed to the trunk. Two saddled horses stood near the corral, and the sunlight through the leaves dappled the earth with shadow.

  Behind him there was a low moan of fear from Sherry, but he did not move, but waited and watched the two men coming toward him. It could be here. It could be now. It could be at this moment.

  Dahl spoke first, his lean, cadaverous face hard and with a curiously set expression. The shorter man had moved apart from him a little. Haney remembered the girl behind him, and knew he dare not fight-but some sixth sense warned him that somewhere else would be a third man, probably with a rifle. The difference.

  Kerb Dahl spoke. "You're Ross Haney. I reckon you know me. I'm Dahl, an' this here is the first time you've come to the VV an' this is goin' to be the last. You come on this place again an' you get killed. We don't aim to have no troublemakers around."

  Ross Haney held very still, weighing his next words carefully. This could break into a shooting match in one instant. "Then have your artillery ready when I come back," he warned them. "Because when I'm ready, I'll come back."

  "We told you."

  Ross looked them over coldly, knowing they had expected to find him as tough and ready for a fight as he had been with Chalk Reynolds and Berdue. Yet there was a queer sense of relief in their eyes, too. Haney guessed that while there must be a hidden rifleman, these men were afraid for their skins.

  Mabry stood nearby as Ross swung into the saddle. "I've a job for you if you can get to town within the next twelve hours. At the saloon. You might run into a friend of yours."

  Mabry did not reply, so Haney rode away leaving the cowhand standing there. He had spoken softly enough, so he knew he was not overheard. Yet Haney knew he was no closer to a solution than before.

  There was danger here. An odd situation existed in the Ruby Hills. Scowling, he considered it. On the one hand was Walt Pogue with Bob Streeter and Repp Hanson, two notorious killers. On the other was Chalk Reynolds with Syd Berdue and Emmett Chubb.

  Here at the VV was a stranger situation. Bob and Sherry Vernon, who owned the ranch, seemed completely dominated by Levitt and their own hands. Also Levitt had a strong claim of some kind on Sherry herself. What could be behind that? Scowling, Ross considered it. Whatever it was, it could mean everything to him, not only for his plans in the valley, but because of his love for Sherry.

  Somewhere in this patchwork of conflicting interests, there was another grouping, that small band who had gathered at the springs with Syd Berdue. The band was made up of at least one man from each ranch. Of Kerb Dahl of the VV, Voyle of the Box N, and Tolman of the Three Diamonds.

  Where did this last group stand? Voyle, from his actions, wanted Pogue to know nothing of his tie-up with Dahl. Did Reynolds know about Berdue's meeting at the springs? Who was behind it?

  Chapter X

  Narrow Squeak

  Quiet reigned at the Bit and Bridle when Ross Haney rode into town in the late afternoon. He left his horse at the rail and strolled through the half doors to the cool interior.

  Only Pat the bartender was present. The room was dusky and still. Pat idly polished glasses as he came i
n, glanced up at him, and then put a bottle and a glass on the bar. Ross leaned an elbow on the hardwood and dug out the makings. He built a smoke without speaking, liking the restfulness and coolness after his hot ride, and thinking over what he had seen at the VV.

  "You've lived here a long time, Pat?"

  "Uh-huh. Before Carter was killed."

  "Lots of changes?"

  "Lots."

  "There's goin' to be more, Pat."

  "Room for 'em."

  "Where do you stand?"

  Pat turned abruptly and fixed his eyes on Haney. "Not in the middle. Not with Reynolds or Pogue. As for you, I'm neither for you nor against you."

  "That's plain enough." Haney didn't know whether to be pleased or angry. After Pat's attitude in regard to Burt, he had hoped he might be an ally. "But you don't sound like much help."

  "That's right. No help at all. I've got my saloon. I'm doin' all right. I was here before Reynolds and Pogue. I'll be here after they are gone."

  "And after I'm gone?"

  "Maybe that, too." Pat suddenly turned again and rested his big hands on the bar. "You fool around with Pogue all you want. With Reynolds, too. But you lay off of Star Levitt an' his crowd, you hear? They ain't human. They'll kill you. They'll eat you like a cat does a mouse, when they get ready."

  "Maybe." Ross struck a match with his left hand. "Who are his crowd?"

  Pat looked disgusted. "You've been to the VV. He runs that spread. Don't you be too friendly with that girl, either. She's poison."

  Haney let that one ride. Maybe she was poison. Maybe feeling the way he did about her was the thing that would break him. He was a strong man. He had not lived that long under the conditions he knew without knowing his own strength and knowing how it compared with the strength of others. He knew that when he was sure he would push his luck to any degree, but as yet, he was not pushing it; as yet, no one in the valley knew his real intentions.

  Pogue believed he had come looking for Chubb. Reynolds and Berdue, despite their hatred for him, believed he was after Pogue. Each was prepared to keep hands off in hopes he would injure the other. Yet the roundup was going to blow the lid off, for the roundup was going to show that he had cattle on the range and had pitched his hat into the ring. Then he would be in the middle of the fight, with every man's hand against him.

  Pat's warning was right. Pogue and Reynolds were dangerous, but nothing to Levitt's crowd. Lifting his glass, Ross studied his reflection in the mirror, the reflection of a tall, wide- shouldered young man with blunt, bronzed features and a smile that came easily to eyes that were half cynical, half amused.

  He was a tall young man with a flat- brimmed, flat-crowned black hat and a gray shield-chested shirt and a black knotted kerchief, black crossed belts, supporting the worn holsters and walnut-stocked guns.

  He was a fool, he decided, to think as he did about Sherry. What could he offer such a girl?

  On the other hand, what could Star Levitt offer her?

  Regardless, he was here to stay. When he rode the palouse into the street of Soledad he had come to remain. If he had to back it with gunfire, he would do just that. Carefully, he considered the state of his plans. There was no fault to find there. In fact, he had progressed beyond where he had expected in that he had a friend, an ally, a man who would stay with him to the last ditch.

  He had Roily Burt.

  Camping on the mesa, the wounded man was rapidly knitting. They had talked much, and Burt had told him what to expect of the roundup. He knew the characters and personalities of the people of the Ruby Hills, and he knew something more of Pogue and Reynolds. Over nights beside the campfire they had yarned and argued and talked. Both of them had ridden for Goodnight, both for John Chisum. They knew the same saloons in Tascosa and El Paso. Both had been over the trail to Dodge and to Cheyenne.

  Both had been in Uvalde and Laredo, and they talked the nights away of cattle and horses, of rustling and gunfighters, until they knew each other and knew they spoke the same language. Roily had talked much of Mabry. He was a good man. While Mabry liked both Bob and Sherry Vernon, he had confided to Burt that he must leave the VV or be killed.

  "Why were the Box N boys gunnin' for you, Roily?"

  A frown gathered between Roily Burt's eyes. He looked up at Ross over the fire. His blue eyes were puzzled and disturbed. "You know, I can't figure that. It was a set deal. I saw that right away. They'd been sent to murder me."

  "How'd you happen to be in town?"

  "Berdue sent me in for a message."

  "I see." Ross told him then about the meeting below the mesa, everything but Sherry's part in it. "There's a tie-up there somewhere. I think Berdue sent you in on purpose, an' he had those Box N boys primed to kill you."

  "But why?"

  "Something you know, probably. The way I have it figured is that Syd Berdue is in some kind of a double-cross that he don't want Chalk to know about. Maybe he figured he'd tipped his hand somehow, and you knew too much. Voyle is in the deal with him, and I figured from the way he acted the other night in front of Pogue that he's double-crossing Walt. And I think Star Levitt is the man behind the whole thing!"

  "You mean a deal between Berdue and Levitt? But they are supposed to be on the outs."

  "Sure, and what better coverup? You keep an eye on the springs. They may meet again."

  "Say!" Burt glanced up. "Something I've been meaning to ask you. Several times I've heard a funny kind of rumbling, sounds like it comes out of the rock under me. You heard it?"

  "Uh-huh. Don't reckon it amounts to much, but some day we'll do some prowling. Kind of gives an hombre the shivers."

  Standing now at the Bit and Bridle bar, Ross Haney went over that conversation. Yes, he was ahead of his plans in having such an ally as Roily Burt.

  He leaned his forearms on the hardwood and turned his head to glance out into the street. The rose of the setting sun had tinted the dusty, unpainted boards of the old building opposite with a dull glow, and beyond it, in the space between the buildings, a deep shadow had already gathered. At the rail, Rio stamped his feet against a vagrant fly and blew contentedly.

  It was a quiet evening. Suddenly, he felt a vague nostalgia, a longing for a home he had never known, the deep, inner desire for peace, his children about him, the quiet evening rest on a wide porch after a hard day on the range, and the sound of a voice inside, a voice singing.

  Yet when he straightened and filled his glass again, the guns felt heavy against his legs.

  Someday, with luck, things would be different.

  Then the half doors pushed open, and Star Levitt stood there, tall and handsome against the fading light. He looked for an instant at Ross and then came on into the room.

  He wore the same splendid white hat, a white buckskin vest, and perfectly creased gray trousers tucked into polished boots.

  As always, the worn guns struck the only incongruous note. His voice was easy, confident.

  "Thanks. I've got one." In the mirror his eyes caught the difference between them, his battered shabbiness against the cool magnificence of Levitt.

  Levitt's smile was pleasant, his voice ordinary and casual. "Planning to leave soon?"

  "No." Haney's voice was flat. "I'm never going to leave."

  "That's what the country needs, they tell me. Permanent settlers, somebody to build on. It's a nice thought, if you can stick it."

  "That's right. How about you, Levitt? Do - you think you'll be able to stick it when Reynolds and Pogue get to checking brands?"

  He heard a glass rattle in Pat's suddenly nervous fingers. He knew he had taken the play away from Levitt with that remark, and he followed it up. "I've been over the range lately, and there's a lot of steers out there with VV's made over into Three Diamonds, an' Box N's to Triple Box A's, an' I understand that brand happens to be yours, too."

  Levitt had straightened and was looking at him, all the smile gone from his face. "You understand too much, Haney! You're geting into water that's
too deep for you, or for any drifting cowhand!"

  "Am I? Let me judge. I've waded through some bad water a few times, an' where I couldn't wade, I could swim."

  Star Levitt's eyes had widened, and the bones seemed to stretch the skin of his face taut and hard. He was not a man used to being talked back to, and he wasn't used to being thwarted. He was shrewd, a planner, but in that instant, Ross learned something else of him.

  He had a temper, and when pushed, he got angry. Such a man was apt to be hasty. All right, Ross told himself, let's see.

  "Another thing: you spoke the other day about a staked claim. I'm curious to see how deep your stakes are driven, so I'm going to find out for myself, Levitt. I don't think that claim is very secure. I think a little bit of bad weather an' all your stakes would shake loose. You're a big boy, Levitt, but you're not cutting the wide swath you think you are. Now you know where I stand, so don't try running any bluffs on me. I won't take a pushing around!"

  "Stand aside, Star, an' let me have him!" The voice rang in an almost empty room, and Haney's hair prickled along his scalp as he saw Emmett Chubb standing just inside the door. "I want him, anyway, Star!"

  Ross Haney stood, his feet wide apart, facing them, and he knew he was in the tightest spot of his life. Two of the deadliest gunmen in the country were facing him, and he was alone. Cold and still he waited, and the air was so tense he could hear the hoarse breathing of the bartender beside him and across the bar.

  So still was the air in the room that Bill Mabry's voice, low as it was, could be heard by all.

  "If they want it, Haney, I'll take Star for you. He's right here under my gun."

  Levitt's eyes did not waver. Haney saw the quick calculation in the big man's eyes and then saw decision. Levitt was sharp, and this situation offered nothing for anybody. It was two and two, and Mabry's position at the window from which he spoke, commanded the situation perfectly, as he was just slightly behind both Levitt and Chubb.

  It was Pat who broke the stalemate. "Nobody does any shootin' here unless it's me!" he said flatly. "Mabry, you stand where you are. Chubb, you take your hand away from that gun an' get out of that door, face first. Star, you foller him.