Marble Range

by Robert J. Horton

  “Did you hear a shot before you came to the door?” Campbell asked Bannister.

  “I did,” replied Bannister readily. “But I don’t know who fired it, and I didn’t have time to ponder over it, for bullets were whizzing in my direction right pronto.”

  “Well, we’re getting nowhere here,” said the sheriff with a puzzled frown. “It looks to me as though one of those late customers sneaked back there and unlocked that door. But nobody knows who the late customers were, save by the names they gave. Nobody seems to know anything except Bannister and I’m banking on what he’s said being true.”

  “Does anyone know the man who was shot?” Bannister asked.

  “No,” said the sheriff. “Nobody knows anything.”

  “How much did they get?” Bannister inquired casually.

  “About eight thousand, Cromer thinks,” the sheriff answered sarcastically. “They don’t even know that for sure.”

  “Well, he ought to know the exact amount,” Cromer snapped.

  Bannister whirled on him, his face set and stern, his eyes flashing. “Cromer,” he said in a forbidding voice, “if you don’t dry up your mouth so far as your remarks concern me, I’ll knock every tooth in your head down your throat and make you spit ’em out, one by one.”

  Cromer, taken aback by the fierce look in Bannister’s eyes, and convinced by his tone that he meant what he said, turned away muttering.

  “And now we’ve got to see about the people who’ve been hurt and the damage done and get order restored,” said the sheriff. “That’s a danged lot more important than this robbery. Close up your bank, Cromer, and get out and help. You don’t seem to give a continental damn about anybody but yourself, Cromer, but you’re taking my orders tonight and tomorrow, and don’t you forget it.”

  The official opened the door and the party filed out. On the short cement walk in front of the bank, Bannister touched the sheriff’s arm and got his ear. “Just one thing before we start work and I get my orders,” he said. “That horse I caught out back of the bank was my own . . . the one stolen from me in the river breaks the night I was trailing the supposed rustlers. I know Howard told you about my experience down there when I was shot. That shows the same gang pulled off this job up here that’s working in the badlands. It’s something we want to remember.”

  Sheriff Campbell was silent a few moments, digesting this information. “That makes it harder and easier,” he said ambiguously. “We won’t forget that. But now we’ll get busy. You get together a bunch of riders. There are a lot of Half Diamond men in town and some from other ranches south. Get Macy to help you round ’em up. The horses have broken away and must be driven in so people can start home. That’s your job. The rest of us will try to restore order here and look after those who were hurt over at the stands.”

  Bannister was off on his mission with the sheriff’s last words. He rode to the hotel and made his way upstairs. There he explained what was wanted to John Macy and Howard, who both agreed at once to help. He told Florence and the other women there to remain in the room until morning. The three men started out to round up the riders and commandeer the first horses they came upon for emergency use. The first mounted man Bannister saw was Tommy Gale, and he enlisted his services immediately.

  * * * * *

  A glorious dawn found a semblance of order in the stricken town of Marble. Scores of horses had been driven in from the plain and men were identifying them, leading them to the corrals, where the saddles still straddled the rails, or to wagons and buckboards and stages to be hooked up. Already people were leaving—disheveled, weary, their clothing torn, such belongings as they had brought with them mostly lost.

  Men were at work clearing the debris in the street. Owners of booths were salvaging what they could from the wreckage of their places of business on the night before. Hot coffee was being served free to all who wanted it from such board stands as remained. Cromer had ordered it in the hope that it might in some small way offset the disastrous effects of the storm. No one could tell what the result of the catastrophe would be and Cromer was almost in a frenzy. And always in the back of his head was that burning fire of hatred of Bannister. He was not sure that Bannister really had a part in the bank robbery, and that made him all the more angry. Then Bannister had rescued Florence Marble from the fury of the storm. He ground his teeth whenever he thought of it. Why couldn’t he have had such luck himself, instead of staying in the bank counting his loss?

  Five people had been killed in the collapse of the big stand. Scores had been hurt there and in the town proper. They had been taken to the board shacks of the engineers and other officials and cared for by the company doctor and Dr. Holmes, who was early on the scene from Prairie City. Two people had been killed by the bolt of lightning that had struck a smaller stand. Many had been knocked unconscious by the shock. The stand had taken fire, but the deluge of rain had quenched the flames.

  Looting had begun to some extent by the time Sheriff Campbell had organized his force of special deputies. It had stopped with the word that the special deputies had orders to shoot to kill if they saw any plundering.

  Engineers and laborers were strengthening the head gates of the big ditch against the roaring, gushing waters of the swollen river. Water was pouring like a cataract over the overflow of the dam. But the dam held, and even if it had given way, it would have released its waters eastward from the town. Meanwhile, as the sun swung up into the eastern sky, bathing the plain in its golden glory and shedding its warmth, every member of the Marble Dome Land and Irrigation Company organization was broadcasting the fact that never had such a storm been known in that country, and that it would not have wreaked so much havoc if there had been only buildings instead of tents, that it had not injured the land or the works of the project, and above all things that there would probably never be such a storm again. Thus, gradually, as the sun mounted higher and food was served gratis, prospective settlers regained their composure and confidence and complete order was restored.

  By 10:00 a.m. celebrants from the ranches in the surrounding country were on their way home, the street was clear, the bank and company offices were open, stores, cafés, and resorts were doing business. But the celebration itself ended with the payment of the prizes won by contestants in the rodeo of the day before.

  Bannister came upon Sheriff Campbell, who, despite the fact that he was tired and worn after his strenuous work during the night and morning, was nevertheless still on the job, master of the situation.

  “What next, Sheriff?” asked Bannister cheerfully, his duty done.

  “You better go home,” said Campbell. “There’s nothing else for you to do.” He looked at the man before him quizzically. “You know, you did mighty good work last night, Bannister,” he said soberly. “You helped me more than any other man in town. I’m thanking you for it here an’ now. And I’m inclined to believe you know more than you told us about that bank affair.” He raised his brows. “Not that I think you had anything to do with it,” he added hastily. “But . . . well, maybe you’ll tell me more later. Anyway I think you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

  Bannister frowned in thought. He didn’t want to tell the sheriff that he had seen Le Beck with the other men, and that he thought Hayes was implicated, also, for the reason that the sheriff might question them. He didn’t want either of the men to suspect that they were under suspicion. “If I’ve got anything up my sleeve, Sheriff,” he said slowly, “anything I’m not telling you, it’s because I’ve got a good reason.”

  A look of understanding passed between them and the official turned away with a so long.

  Bannister next went on a hunt for Tommy Gale and found him in a resort—the oldest in town and housed in a stout building—below the bank. He signaled him to go out the rear.

  When he met him behind the resort, he came to the point at once. “Tommy, I want you to stay up here and keep an eye on Le Beck and Cromer and on Hayes, too, if he stays in town. If
any of them leave, try and follow them or find out where they’re going. But keep dark. The Half Diamond is the first ranch south of here, on the river, and you can’t miss it if you want to get word to me about anything. You better pose as a wandering ’puncher who’s made a stake gambling and is trying to plug it up some more. What say?”

  “You’re giving me orders,” said Tommy loyally. “That’s enough for me. My hearing ain’t bad an’ I got you straight.”

  “You’re top-grade, Tommy.” Bannister chuckled. “Did you see anything of those fellows at the bank when they beat it?”

  “Lost ’em right off the bat,” growled Tommy. “Who wouldn’t in that storm.”

  “Right,” said Bannister. “Didn’t expect anything else. How much money have you got?”

  “Got enough,” was the dignified answer.

  “You’re a liar and you know it,” said Bannister with mock severity. “You never had enough money one time in your life. Here, take this. It’s expense money, and, if you don’t make good, I’ll take it out of your hide.” He thrust a roll of bills in Tommy’s hand and was off before the diminutive cowpuncher could frame what in his mind would be a suitable reply to the sally of his old friend.

  Bannister went to the hotel and found Howard and Florence there. Howard had just come in, and upon his arrival John Macy, his daughter, and others from the ranches south of the river had secured their horses and gone home.

  “Aren’t you two going home?” Bannister asked, simulating surprise.

  “We were waiting for you,” said Florence.

  “All right, we’ll be on our way just as soon as I can buy a new hat,” said Bannister, almost boisterously. “I’ve got the horses ready. We’ll have to lead one … that is, I will, for I found my own last night.”

  Both Howard and Florence wanted the details, but Bannister said he would wait and tell them on the way back. “It’s a peculiar story,” he hinted.

  As they were about to leave, Cromer appeared in the doorway.

  “Oh, you’re going?” he said. “I’m glad you’re all right, Flo . . . er . . . Miss Marble. I was going to look for you, but assumed you were safe with Bannister and your cousin, and then I was going anyway, but saw the light in the windows up here.”

  Bannister coughed slightly, but his face was innocently composed as Cromer looked at him.

  Cromer turned again to Florence. “I would like very much to see you for a few moments on a . . . er . . . little business matter before you go, Miss Marble,” he said, glancing at Howard and Bannister significantly.

  “I have neither the time nor the inclination, Mister Cromer,” said Florence coldly as she pushed past him, followed by the two with her.

  Cromer’s face went dead white in the heat of his anger as Bannister’s laugh floated up to him from the stairway. And in that moment Cromer’s teeth clicked together in ominous decision.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  On the way back to the Half Diamond, Bannister told Florence and Howard about the bank robbery of the night before and the recovery of his horse. But even from them he kept secret the arrival of Tommy Gale. Nor did he mention his suspicions in connection with Le Beck and Hayes. He wanted time to think, for one thing, and this morning he was too tired to think. It seemed impossible to arrange his thought trends in logical sequences. And it was just as impossible—if not more so—to keep his mind off that delicious hour he had spent with Florence in the shack during the storm the night before.

  She knew he was the man known as The Maverick. He was sure of that. How she had found out for certain, he did not know. He might never ask her. No, he wouldn’t ask her. She would have to tell him of her own accord, if she so wished. She knew he was The Maverick and she didn’t care. She loved him. Every time he met her eyes a message seemed to flash between them. It thrilled him and he forgot his weariness. But his promise to Campbell . . . A shadow seemed to drift over the sparkling gold of the clean-washed plain; the brilliant green of the trees along the creek faded to gray, and the blue sky turned to slate.

  At noon it was fearfully hot—hotter, perhaps, than it had been before the storm. There lingered no doubts now but that it was going to be the driest season in years. The flood waters of the river were already subsiding. The river would be down to where it had been before the cloudburst in another forty-eight hours. The river was going to be low this year. Bannister remembered one casual remark John Macy had addressed to Cromer the day before when he thought no one was within earshot. “I’ll be up to get that signed paper about our water protection the day after your directors’ meeting,” Macy had said. “That’ll be the sixteenth.” And Cromer hadn’t answered him.

  They reached the ranch shortly after noon. Martha came fluttering out to meet them, relief glowing in her misty eyes. She hugged Florence, muttering: “I was so worried.” She repeated it over and over. “The lightning struck in the cottonwoods by the river and shook the house. I thought the end of the world had come.”

  Bannister and Howard rode on to the barn with Florence’s horse following them. Old Jeb came out to meet them and take the horses. Both Howard and Bannister stared at him and looked at each other. They had forgotten all about old Jeb in the excitement of the arrival in town and the subsequent events.

  “I thought you was going to the big blowout,” said Bannister.

  “Wal, I got to thinkin’ it over an’ there wasn’t any man left here at the ranch an’ I decided it was up to me to stay,” drawled Jeb. “So I stayed. An’ it was a danged good thing I did, fer Miss Martha all but went plumb loco during the storm last night.”

  “Jeb, you’re a brick,” Bannister told him. “Just for that I’m going to buy you a new hat, and you’ll wear it, or I’ll rope and tie you and make you wear it. That thing you’ve got on looks like something a coyote had dragged in.”

  “This hat,” said Jeb, taking off his dilapidated headgear and gazing at it fondly, “has seen ’em come an’ go for ten years, an’ I reckon you wasn’t such a terror of a buckaroo that far back. An’ Howard, there, was just learnin’ how to sit in a saddle without being tied on.”

  He insisted on taking care of the horses and Bannister and Howard went to the wash bench. When they finished with the soap and water and comb, Martha called them to dinner. They were all too hungry to talk much during the meal. And after dinner they sought some sleep. Florence was the only one who dreamed.

  That night Bannister made a trip to Dome range to see Manley. He learned that the men had all returned from town, each bringing a different and, if possible, more vividly colored account of what had taken place. Link hadn’t gone, Manley told him, nor had he been away from the camp. Hayes hadn’t been down that way, Manley said in response to a question from Bannister.

  Then Bannister gave Manley an accurate account of what had happened in Marble before, during, and after the storm. He told him of the bank robbery and the recovery of his horse. As Manley already knew about Bannister’s experience in the river breaks, this information started him thinking. He told him about Le Beck and Hayes and the Canadians, and next he told the Half Diamond manager of his suspicion of Hayes and Link as being implicated in the rustling operations and in the bank robbery as well.

  “I’d watch Link,” Bannister suggested. “I’d bet everything I’ve got that sooner or later he will sneak away. If we can learn where he goes, we’ll learn a whole lot more.”

  After this, while Manley listened intently, Bannister had much to say about Cromer. He left the manager looking at the night sky, thinking hard.

  Next day Bannister and Howard rode along the outer fringe of trees along the river breaks. The ground still was soft from its drenching and any tracks made upon it since the storm would show plainly. They found tracks on the wide trail leading to the main ford of the river, but these undoubtedly had been made by John Macy and those with him on their return from town the day before.

  Bannister, convinced that the rustling operations and the bank robbery were linked tog
ether, decided to play a waiting game. Moreover, he looked forward anxiously to the meeting of the company board of directors and their action in the matter of providing the southern stockmen with water. In four more days John Macy would go to Cromer and demand that he keep his promise. This would be a crucial moment, and Bannister could not forget that Florence Marble’s big investment was at stake. As a last resource he had a plan—a move that none of the stockholders’ would have thought of at this time.

  The river had gone down steadily. The heat was terrific. Its hot breath shimmered on the plain and raced across it in waves when there was a breeze. The oats were doing none too well. By the 16th the river might be expected to be lower than in years. Old Jeb, who knew the signs, didn’t hesitate to say so.

  “It’s the worst I’ve seen in more than twenty-five years,” he declared. “An’ if that fool Cromer keeps takin’ the water out, the river will dry up sure as daylight.”

  Bannister respected the old-timer’s knowledge, born of long experience in that country. But he said nothing to Florence. In fact, he avoided the girl as much as possible as he struggled with his problem. And, as there was no sign of Tommy Gale, he assumed everything in Marble was quiet. And that also disturbed him.

  On the morning of the 16th, the day John Macy was to go to town, Bannister was abroad before dawn. He took up his station by the trail leading to the main ford where the stockman would cross the river. He did not expect Macy to stop at the Half Diamond this day, and he meant to have a few words with him on his way to town. The sun had been up two hours when Macy hove in sight.

  “Hallo,” he greeted Bannister. “Down to look at the ford?”

  “I’ve seen it,” Bannister replied, catching the significance of the rancher’s question at once.