the Rider Of Ruby Hills (1986)

by L'amour, Louis

  Doc Sawyer felt his scalp tighten, but Mike smiled.

  "Jack McCardle," he said, "of the Flying M. We aren't his regular hands, just a bunch passing through. Doc, here, he being an old friend of Jack's, handled the sale of the beef."

  The sheriff looked around.

  "That right, Joe?" he asked the gray-haired man. "There's a Flying M over there?"

  "Yes, there is." Joe was obviously puzzled. "Good man, too, but I had no idea he was shipping beef!"

  The sheriff studied Bastian thoughtfully. "Guess you're all right," he said finally. "But you sure don't talk like a cowhand."

  "As a matter of fact," Mike said swallowing hard, "I was studying for the ministry, but my interests began to lead me in more profane directions, so I am afraid I backslid. It seems," he said gravely, "that a leaning toward poker isn't conducive to the correct manner in the pulpit."

  "I should say not!" the sheriff chuckled. "All right, son, you take your pardners with you. Let 'em sleep it off."

  Mike turned, and his men followed him. Ducrow and Fernandez had disappeared. They rode swiftly out of town and took the trail for Toadstool Canyon. It wasn't until they were several miles on the road that Sawyer glanced at Mike.

  "You'll do," he said. "I was never so sure of a fight in my life!"

  "That's right, Boss!" Garlin said. "I was bettin' we'd have to shoot our way out of town! You sure smooth talked 'em. Never heard it done prettier!"

  "Sure did," Colley agreed. "I don't envy you havin' Ducrow an' Fernandez for enemies, though."

  Kerb Perrin and Rigger Molina were both in conference with Ben Curry when Mike Bastian came up the stone steps and through the door. They both looked up sharply.

  "Perrin," Bastian said, "what were Ducrow and Fernandez doing in Weaver?"

  "In Weaver?" Perrin straightened up slowly, nettled by Mike's tone, but puzzled, too.

  "Yes, in Weaver! We nearly had to shoot our way out of town because of them. They were down there, drunk and talking too much. When I told them to get on their horses and go home, they made trouble."

  Kerb Perrin was on dangerous ground. He well knew how harsh Ben Curry was about talkative outlaws, and while he had no idea what the two were doing in Weaver, he knew they were troublemakers. He also knew they were supporters of his. Ben Curry knew it, and so did Rigger Molina.

  "They made trouble?" Perrin questioned now. "How?"

  "Ducrow started to tell who I was."

  "What happened?"

  Mike was aware that Ben Curry had tipped back in his chair and was watching him with interest.

  "I knocked him down with a pistol barrel," he said.

  "You what?" Perrin stared. Ducrow was a bad man to tangle with. "What about Fernandez?"

  "He tried to draw on me, and I put a bullet in his shoulder."

  "You should've killed him," Molina said. "You'll have to, sooner or later."

  Kerb Perrin was stumped. He had not expected this, or that Mike Bastian was capable of handling such a situation. He was suddenly aware that Doc Sawyer had come into the room.

  Bastian faced Ben Curry. "We got what we went after," he said, "but another bad break like Ducrow and Fernandez, and we'd walk into a trap!"

  "There won't be another!" Curry said harshly.

  When Mike had gone out, Doc Sawyer looked at Ben Curry and smiled.

  "You should have seen him and heard him," he said as Molina and Perrin were leaving. "It would have done your heart good! He had a run-in with Corbus and Fletcher, too. Knocked Corbus out with a punch and backed Fletcher down. Oh, he'll do, that boy of yours, he'll do! The way he talked that sheriff out of it was one of the smoothest things I've seen!"

  Ben Curry nodded with satisfaction. "I knew it! I knew he had it!"

  Doc Sawyer smiled, and looked up at the chief from under his sunburned eyebrows. "He met a girl, too."

  "A girl? Good for him! It's about time!"

  "This was a very particular girl, Chief," Sawyer continued. "I thought you'd like to know. If I'm any judge of men, he fell for her and fell hard. And I'm not so sure it didn't happen both ways. He told me something about it, but I had already seen for myself."

  Something in Sawyer's tone made Curry sit up a little.

  "Who was the girl?" he demanded.

  "A girl who came in on the stage." Doc spoke carefully, avoiding Curry's eyes now. "He got the girl and her family a rig to drive them out to a ranch. Out to the V Bar."

  Ben Curry's face went white. So Doc knew! It was in every line of him, every tone of his voice. The one thing he had tried to keep secret, the thing known only to himself and Roundy, was known to Doc! And to how many others?

  "The girl's name," Doc continued, "was Drusilla Ragan. She's a beautiful girl."

  "Well, I won't have it!" Curry said in a strained voice.

  Doc Sawyer looked up, faintly curious. "You mean the foster son you raised isn't good enough for your daughter?"

  "Don't say that word here!" Curry snapped, his face hard. "Who knows besides you?"

  "Nobody of whom I am aware," Doc said with a shrug. "I only know by accident. You will remember the time you were laid up with that bullet wound. You were delirious, and that's why I took care of you myself-because you talked too much."

  Doc lighted his pipe. "They made a nice- looking pair," he said. "And I think she invited him to Red Wall Canyon."

  "He won't go! I won't have any of this crowd going there!"

  "Chief, that boy's what you made him, but he's not an outlaw yet," Doc said, puffing contentedly on his pipe. "He could be, and he might be, but if he does become one the crime will lie on your shoulders."

  Curry shook himself and stared out the window.

  "I said it, Chief, the boy has it in him," Sawyer went on. "You should have seen him throw that gun on Fernandez. The kid's fast as lightning! He thinks, too. If he takes over this gang, he'll run this country like you never ran it. I say, if."

  "He'll do it," Curry said confidently, "you know he will. He always does what I tell him."

  Doc chuckled. "He may, and again he may not. Mike Bastian has a mind of his own, and he's doing some thinking. He may decide he doesn't want to take over. What will you do then?"

  "Nobody has ever quit this gang. Nobody ever will!"

  "You'd order him killed?"

  Ben Curry hesitated. This was something he had never dreamed of. Something- "He'll do what he's told!" he repeated, but he was no longer sure.

  A tiny voice of doubt was arising within him, a voice that made him remember the Mike Bastian who was a quiet, determined little boy who would not cry, a boy who listened and obeyed. Yet now Curry knew, and admitted it for the first time, that Mike Bastian always had a mind of his own.

  Never before had the thought occurred to him that Mike might disobey, that he might refuse. And if he did, what then? It was a rule of the outlaw pack that no man could leave it and live. It was a rule essential to their security. A few had tried, and their bodies now lay in Boot Hill. But Mike, his son? No, not Mike!

  Within him, there was a deeper knowledge, an awareness that here his interests and those of the pack would divide. Even if he said no, they would say yes.

  "Who would kill him, Chief? Kerb Perrin? Rigger Molina? You?" Doc Sawyer shook his head slowly. "You might be able to do it, maybe one of the others, but I doubt it. You've created the man who may destroy you, Chief, unless you join him."

  Long after Doc Sawyer was gone, Ben Curry sat there staring out over the shadowed valley. He was getting old. For the first time he was beginning to doubt his Tightness, beginning to wonder if he had not wronged Mike Bastian.

  And what of Mike and Dru, his beloved, gray-eyed daughter? The girl with dash and spirit? But why not? Slowly, he thought over Mike Bastian's life. Where was the boy wrong? Where was he unfitted for Dru? By the teachings given him on his, Curry's, own suggestion? His own order? Or was there yet time?

  Ben Curry heaved himself to his feet and began to pace the carpeted flo
or. He would have to decide. He would have to make up his mind, for a man's life and future lay in his hands, to make or break.

  What if Dru wanted him anyway, outlaw or not? Ben Curry stopped and stared into the fireplace. If it had been Julie now, he might forbid it. But Dru? He chuckled. She would laugh at him. Dru had too much of his own nature, and she had a mind of her own.

  Mike Bastian was restless the day after the excitement in Weaver. He rolled out of his bunk and walked out on the terrace. Only he and Doc Sawyer slept in the stone house where Ben Curry lived. Roundy was down in town with the rest of them, but tonight Mike wanted to walk, to think.

  There had been a thrill of excitement in out- talking the sheriff, in facing down Fletcher, in flattening Corbus. And there had been more of it in facing Ducrow and Fernandez. Yet, was that what he wanted? Or did he want something more stable, more worthwhile? The something he might find with Drusilla Ragan?

  Already, he had won a place with the gang. He knew the story would be all over the outlaw camp now.

  Walking slowly down the street of the settlement, he turned at right angles and drifted down a side road. He wanted to get away from things for a little while, to think things out. He turned again and stared back into the pines, and then he heard a voice coming from a nearby house. The words halted him.

  . . at Red Wall." Mike heard the ending.

  Swiftly, he glided to the house and flattened against the side. Kerb Perrin was speaking:

  "It's a cinch, and we'll do it on our own without anybody's say-so. There's about two thousand cattle in the herd, and I've got a buyer for them. We can hit the place just about sunup. Right now, they have only four hands on the place, but about the first of next month they will start hiring. It's now or not at all."

  "How many men will we take?" That was Ducrow speaking.

  "A dozen. That will keep the divvy large enough, and they can swing it. Hell, that Ragan ranch is easy! The boss won't hear about it until too late, and the chances are he will never guess it was us."

  "I wouldn't want him to," Fernandez said.

  "To hell with him!" Ducrow was irritated. "I'd like a crack at that Bastian again."

  "Stick with me," Perrin said, "and I'll set him up for you. Curry is about to turn things over to him. Well, we'll beat him to it."

  "You said there were girls?" Ducrow suggested.

  "There's Curry's two girls and a couple of Mexican girls who work there. One older woman. I want one of those girls myself-the youngest of the Ragan sisters. What happens to the others is none of my business."

  Mike Bastian's hand dropped to his gun, and his lips tightened. The tone of Perrin's voice filled him with fury, and Ducrow was as bad.

  "What happens if Curry does find out?" Ducrow demanded.

  "What would happen?" Perrin said fiercely. "I'll kill him like I've wanted to all these years! I've hated that man like I never hated anyone in my life!"

  "What about that Bastian!" Ducrow demanded.

  Perrin laughed. "That's your problem! If you and Fernandez can't figure to handle him, then I don't know you."

  "He knocked out Corbus, too," Ducrow said. "We might get him to throw in with us, if this crowd is all afraid of old Ben Curry."

  "I ain't sure about him my own self," said another voice, which Mike placed as belonging to an outlaw named Bayless. "He may not be so young anymore, but he's hell on wheels with a gun!"

  "Forget him!" Perrin snapped. Then: "You three, and Clatt, Panelli, Monson, Kiefer and a few others, will go with us. All good men. There's a lot of dissatisfaction, anyway. Molina wants to raid the Mormons. They've a lot of rick stock, and there's no reason why we can't sell it south of the river and the other stock north of it. We can get rich!"

  Chapter V

  Mike Bastian waited no longer, but eased away from the wall. He was tempted to wait for Perrin and brace him when he came out. His first thought was to go to Ben Curry; but he might betray his interest in Drusilla, and the time was not yet ripe for that. What would her father say if he found the foster son he had raised to be an outlaw was in love with his daughter?

  It was foolish to think of it, yet he couldn't help it. There was time between now and the twentieth for him to get back to Red Wall and see her.

  A new thought occurred to him. Ben Curry would know the girls and their mother were here and would be going to see them! That would be his chance to learn of Ben's secret pass to the riverbank and how he crossed the Colorado.

  Recalling other trips, Bastian knew the route must be a much quicker one than any he knew of, and was probably farther west and south, toward the canyon country. Already he was eager to see the girl again, and all he could think of was her trim figure, the laughter in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips.

  There were other things to be considered. If there was as much unrest in the gang as Perrin said, things might be nearing a definite break. Certainly, outlaws were not the men to stand hitched for long, and Ben Curry had commanded them for longer than anyone would believe. Their loyalty was due partly to the returns from their ventures under his guidance, and partly to fear of his far-reaching power. But he was growing old, and there were those among them who feared he was losing his grip.

  Mike felt a sudden urge to saddle his horse and be gone, to get away from all this potential cruelty, the conniving and hatred that lay dormant here, or was seething and ready to explode. He could ride out now by the Kaibab trail through the forest, skirt the mountains, and find his own way through the canyon. It was a question whether he could escape, whether Ben Curry would let him go.

  To run now meant to abandon all hope of seeing Dru again, and Mike knew he could not do that.

  Returning to his quarters in the big stone house, he stopped in front of a mirror. With deadly, flashing speed, he began to practice quick draws of his guns. Each night he did this twenty times as swiftly as his darting hands could move.

  Finally he sat down on his bed thinking. Roundy first, and today Doc Sawyer. Each seemed to be hoping he would throw up the sponge and escape this outlaw life before it was too late. Doc said it was his life, but was it?

  There was a light tap on the door. Gun in hand, he reached for the latch. Roundy stepped in. He glanced at the gun.

  "Gettin' scary, Mike?" he queried. "Things are happenin'!"

  "I know."

  Mike went on to explain what he had overheard, and Roundy's face turned serious. "Mike, did you ever hear of Dave Lenaker?"

  Bastian looked up. "You mean the Colorado gunman?"

  "That's the one. He's headed this way. Ben Curry just got word that Lenaker's on his way to take over the Curry gang!"

  "I thought he was one of Curry's ablest lieutenants?"

  Roundy shrugged. "He was, Mike, but the word has gone out that the old man is losing his grip, and outlaws are quick to sense a thing like that. Lenaker never had any use for Perrin, and he's most likely afraid that Perrin will climb into the saddle. Dave Lenaker's a holy terror, too."

  "Does Dad Curry know?" Mike said.

  "Yeah. He's some wrought up, too," Roundy answered. "He was figurin' on bein' away for a few days, one of those trips he takes to Red Wall. Now he can't go."

  Morning came cool and clear. Mike Bastian could feel disaster in the air, and he dressed hurriedly and headed for the bunkhouse. Few of the men were eating, and those few were silent. He knew they were all aware of impending change. He was finishing his coffee when Kerb Perrin came in.

  Instantly, Mike was on guard. Perrin walked with a strut, and his eyes were bright and confident. He glanced at Bastian, faintly amused, and then sat down at the table and began to eat.

  Roundy came in, and then Doc Sawyer. Mike dallied over his coffee, and a few minutes later was rewarded by seeing Ducrow come in with Kiefer, followed in a few minutes by Rocky Clatt, Monson and Panelli.

  Suddenly, with the cup half to his mouth, Mike recalled with a shock that this was the group Perrin planned to use on his raid on the Ragan ranch! That
could mean the raid would come off today!

  He looked up to see Roundy suddenly push back his chair and leave his breakfast unfinished. The old woodsman hurried outside and vanished.

  Mike put down his own cup and got up. Then he stopped, motionless. The hard muzzle of a gun was prodding him in the back, and a voice was saying, "Don't move!"

  The voice was that of Fernandez, and Mike saw Perrin smiling.

  "Sorry to surprise you, Bastian," Perrin said. "But with Lenaker on the road we had to move fast. By the time he gets here I'll be in the saddle. Some of the boys wanted to kill you, but I figured you'd be a good talkin' point with the old man. He'd be a hard kernel to dig out of that stone shell of his without you. But with you for an argument, he'll come out, all right!"

  "Have you gone crazy, Perrin? You can't get away with this!"

  "I am, though. You see, Rigger Molina left this morning with ten of his boys to work a little job they heard of. In fact, they are on their way to knock over the gold train."

  "The gold train?" Bastian exclaimed. "Why, that was my job! He doesn't even know the plan made for it. Or the information I got."

  Perrin smiled triumphantly. "I traded with him. I told him to give me a free hand here, and he could have the gold train. I neglected to tell him about the twelve guards riding with it, or the number with shotguns. In fact, I told him only five guards would be along. I think that will take care of Rigger for me."

  Perrin turned abruptly. "Take his guns and tie his hands behind his back, then shove him out into the street. I want the old man to see him."

  "What about him?" Kiefer demanded, pointing a gun at Doc Sawyer.

  "Leave him alone. We may need a doctor, and he knows where his bread is buttered."

  Confused and angry, Mike Bastian was shoved out into the warm morning sun, then jerked around to face up the canyon toward the stone house.

  Suddenly, fierce triumph came over him. Perrin would have a time getting the old man out of that place. The sunlight was shining down the road from over the house, full into their faces. The only approach to the house was up thirty steps of stone, overlooked by an upper window of the house. From that window and the doorway, the entire settlement could be commanded by an expert rifleman.