Marble Range

by Robert J. Horton

“Then you know,” said Macy with a heavy scowl. “It’s lower than it’s been almost since I can remember. This is hitting us fellows down below, I can tell you. We depend on the river . . . the river is everything in a season like this. Every spring and creek south of here is dry.”

  “Bad business,” was Bannister’s comment. “You’re going in to see Cromer, I suppose?” Macy nodded, frowning. “Well, I’d like to hear what he had to say when you come back,” he continued. “I reckon Miss Marble will want to know.”

  “I’ll stop in,” said Macy shortly. “I’ll come back by way of the ranch an’ tell you. If that girl will stick with us . . .” He swore roundly.

  “She’s between two fires,” said Bannister. “You know she’s made a big investment up there.”

  “Yes, an’ I’ll bet her old dad is turning in his grave,” Macy flared. “He was a cowman, not a confounded farmer. The girl’s plumb crazy!” With that he was off on the Dome trail northward.

  It lacked two hours of noon when Macy rode into Marble. He left his horse at the livery to be attended to and went straight to Cromer’s office.

  “He’s over at the bank,” the clerk told him.

  When Macy walked into Cromer’s private office at the rear of the cage in the bank, he suspected what was coming by the look on the man’s face. His own eyes hardened, and for a space the two challenged each other in silence.

  “Sit down, Macy,” said Cromer finally. He frowned as the stockman put his hat on the desk, before taking a chair. “I suppose you’ve come in about . . . about . . .”

  “About the water,” Macy finished for him. “I want that signed agreement as you promised, an’ the association wants your head gates closed during this dry spell. We’re up against it down there, or will be in another week or so, an’ you’ve got more water stored up than you have any need for in that dam of yours.”

  Cromer waved a hand in a gesture intended to indicate his helplessness. “My hands are tied,” he said slowly. “I have to keep the head gates open. Directors’ orders. But we’re only taking a small amount. This dry spell won’t last, anyway.”

  Macy leaned far forward in his chair and looked at Cromer with a narrowed, burning gaze. It was impossible for Cromer to take his eyes from the other’s, but he retained his cool composure and waited for the stockman’s words. They came like the crackling of a whiplash.

  “I’ve lived in this country forty years,” said Macy. “I know these dry spells. This is going to last, do you hear me? Now I want to know if you’re going to give me that signed paper and keep your word.”

  “I’m not authorized to do so,” replied Cromer in a tone as sharp as Macy’s. “I’m not the whole works.”

  “You talked like it down at the Half Diamond,” Macy pointed out. “An’ in this country, when a man gives his word, we expect him to keep it. We expect you to keep yours. We have no dealings with your dummy board of directors. We don’t ask for anything we’re not entitled to. Now . . . will you give me that paper and close your head gates?”

  “I told you I couldn’t do it,” Cromer said angrily. “We’re taking water from the dam for the hay over east. We’re running it in the main ditch south to town, we’re …”

  “Do you take me for a fool?” demanded Macy loudly. “The water’s been running over your spillway ever since the big storm. Cromer, you’re a liar. Your word isn’t worth that!” He snapped a thumb and finger. “You’re worse than a sneaking, yellow coyote. You’re a skunk! Do you think it’ll be wise for me to take such a message back south?”

  Cromer’s eyes were snapping fire, but he knew better than to make a move signifying that he might intend violence. He knew that much. But in the heat of his anger, he failed to read the ominous message in Macy’s eyes. He was treading on ice as thin as a hair and failed to realize it. He tapped with his fingers on his desk and delivered his ultimatum. “You can carry any message back you wish,” he said icily. “We’ve got as big an investment up here as all your damned ranches put together, and we’ve got the law behind us. When you get some sense and put in with us, the head gates will close. And not a fraction of a second before.”

  Macy had risen to his feet. “You want us to throw in with you, eh?” he said softly—so softly that Cromer misunderstood the portent of his words and manner. “You want us to buy stock, I suppose . . . put up money to help ruin ourselves. Cromer, we’ll think that over.”

  He was out of the office and striding past the cage before Cromer could answer.

  Later, when he arrived at the Half Diamond on a lathered horse, Bannister was out to meet him.

  “You wanted to know,” Macy said in a voice that Bannister could not misunderstand. “Well, I’ll tell you. Cromer went back on his word. He told us to put in with them or go to the devil. That’s the message I’m taking back, an’ that’s the message I’m leaving for Flo Marble. An’ tell her I hope she’s proud of the way she’s betrayed her dad’s old friends. If she is, she must be happy! And before Cromer gets his answer, she’ll no longer be a member of the Cattlemen’s Association an’ entitled to our protection. Her dad had it one or two times when he needed it damned bad. Maybe she’ll wish she had it yet.”

  He spurred his horse and dashed away through the trees.

  Bannister stood still, his face pale. It was time he made his big move and played the card that would decide this dangerous game. But was it? Would he have to wait until . . . ?

  * * * * *

  Within fifteen minutes of the time of John Macy’s furious departure from Marble, Cromer was riding out of town behind a team of spanking grays. He was alone. But if he had looked back, he would have seen a thin spiral of dust following him. Tommy Gale was obeying orders.

  Chapter Thirty

  When Macy had gone, Florence came out of the house to ask Bannister about the stockman’s visit. She had seen him from her windows upstairs but had not expected him to leave so suddenly. “Whatever is the matter with him?” she asked petulantly. “He was here and gone like a house afire.”

  “It’s the water,” Bannister replied in a troubled voice. “The river is getting pretty low and they want Cromer to close his head gates and stop taking water.”

  “Won’t he do it?” the girl asked.

  “No,” said Bannister. “He told ’em to kick in and help the project or he wouldn’t close the head gates. It doesn’t look any too good, but I’m banking on the cattle crowd to hold their heads.” Not for the world would he have told Florence what Macy had said about her. And now, with the sun shining in her hair, and the troubled look in her eyes with a slight pouting of her lips, Florence looked more beautiful than ever.

  “Trouble, trouble, trouble!” exclaimed the girl. “I wish Cromer had never come here with his scheme and begun all this. I don’t know where it will all end. What do you think, Bob?”

  “I’ll tell you something, Florence,” said Bannister seriously. “Cromer can’t have this thing all his own way. I don’t like to talk about a man behind his back, but I don’t think he has the ability a lot of people give him credit for. I have an idea or two. Just let me tend to this business, Florence, and you forget it all and don’t worry. I have a card up my sleeve, and, when the right time comes, I’m going to play it.”

  “Well, I have all the faith in the world in you,” she said, giving Bannister a look that brought the thrill again. “So I won’t worry. I’m through. Tend to the business and play your card. And tonight we’ll go riding.”

  “I’m going out east tonight, Florence,” said Bannister, striving to control his voice. “I’m keeping watch out there, you know. If I miss a night, something might happen and my work would all be for nothing. We’ll have to put it off.”

  She looked at him curiously. “That isn’t the whole reason,” she said finally. “Bob Bannister, in some ways you’re a coward.” With that she flounced back into the house.

  Bannister walked slowly toward the cool, dark interior of the barn. He was biting his lip savagely. Fl
orence Marble was right. He was a coward! He was afraid to ride out with her—afraid of himself. Where was his vaunted willpower? Why didn’t he tell her everything and put himself in his proper place? Why did he stay when he might be of service to her almost as well if he worked independently? He could even confess he was The Maverick—kill Le Beck, and Hayes, too, for that matter—send a chill into Cromer’s heart and play his trump card. But no, he wanted to be near her. He told himself that he had his own selfish interests at heart. He was no good. He decided to keep away from her as much as possible. Hereafter he would eat with old Jeb in the bunkhouse kitchen. Dreams. Why, he was not only a moral coward, he was a fool.

  Bannister had supper with Jeb, telling Howard he wanted to please the old man. He was rather cool toward Howard, and the boy wondered at this. He had wondered considerably lately at the demeanor of both Bannister and Florence. Something seemed to be going on right before his eyes that he couldn’t fathom. Florence had been moody; that afternoon she had been cross and irritated. Now Bannister had spoken to him almost as if he were a stranger. The ramifications of his suspicion reached out everywhere except in the right direction.

  And Florence, too, was wondering. Was Bannister becoming impatient to go back on the trail as The Maverick? Was he just what Cromer hinted he was, and nothing more? Did he really love her or was it a part of the strange game that appeared to be his life? Was she a brainless young fool? That night in the storm—it had been their situation, perhaps. She had been terrified at first; he had been excited. The raging elements had found response in his wild nature. Now he was cool, calm, considering, seeking to control himself. Did he love her? If he did, why, why …? There was no answer to her unasked question.

  With the deepening of the twilight, Bannister rode alone up the road above the cottonwoods. A breath of air was stirring the heat that still lay upon the land. The far-flung sea of gold that was the plain grasped at the purple veil of dusk, and Marble Dome glowed with the soft rose tints of the sunset’s dying reflection. It was a peaceful scene, this great, silent world that whispered of eternity. But the effect upon Bannister was not peaceful. In his soul was a tumult of rebellion.

  He spurred his horse and shook his head savagely. Since he couldn’t have the chance he wanted, someone would have to pay. The thought took hold of his mind and fairly shook his whole being. Yes—someone would have to pay. And now what was this? A shadow was coming toward him at racing speed, coming along the road from Prairie City with its trailing plume of dust. A rider—and no poor rider, either. Bannister veered southward directly in the horseman’s path. He recognized the man in the saddle while he was still a good distance away, checked his horse, and waited.

  “Well, Tommy, you sure seem to be in a powerful hurry,” he said as the rider brought up beside him on his sweating mount. “You act like a bearer of tidings. Let’s have it.”

  “Lucky I caught you out here,” said Tommy Gale in great excitement. “Didn’t know just how I was goin’ to get you at the ranch without everybody gettin’ wise. Pure luck. Listen.” He nodded his head and tapped his saddle horn with a forefinger. “Our friend Cromer is in the know . . . he’s wise to you. Anyway, that’s the way I see it. He left town an’ I followed him. He steered clear of Prairie City, went down an’ got on the train, an’ hit for Big Falls. I rode with him. Who do you think he went to see down there? Nobody but the sheriff, Bob. That’s all.”

  To Tommy’s surprise Bannister merely laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh, to be sure, but it conveyed the impression that Bannister welcomed the news.

  “You needn’t take this as a joke,” said Tommy, feeling that he was being ridiculed in some way. “I did a little detective work down there an’ followed Cromer to Wills’s office. Of course he doesn’t know me from Adam, as I’ve kept out of his way. But he went in there with one of those Reward notices that are out about you, an’ I’d bet my trigger finger they’ll be up after you tomorrow.”

  Bannister had sobered. “You’re probably right,” he said calmly. “Cromer has had a bee in his bonnet for some little time. This is his last play. Then will come my turn.” His words were coming sharper and colder. “Here’s what you do,” he continued. “You ride on to the ranch. Follow this road and you can’t miss it. Go to the bunkhouse and there you’ll find an old fellow by the name of Jeb White. I trust him. Tell him you’re looking for a job, if anybody is around. He’ll put you up for the night. If he’s alone, or when you two are alone, tell him frankly that you’re a friend of mine, but that I don’t want anyone else to know it. He’ll understand. You hang around there in the trees by the river tomorrow, and, if Cromer and Wills should come to the ranch, you slope for Prairie City. They may cut across to the ranch, you see? When you get there, tell Sheriff Campbell and no one else. You won’t see me. If they don’t come by tomorrow night, you ride into town anyway and keep within roping distance of the hotel. Now, you know what to do?”

  “I’m starting to do it this minute,” said Tommy. “You ridin’ tonight?”

  “Yes.” Bannister’s tone startled his friend. “Yes, Tommy, I’m riding. So long.”

  They separated. Tommy went on along the road to the ranch, and Bannister rode fast into the west toward Prairie City, his face set, his eyes gleaming with a light as cold as that of the low-hanging stars.

  He was in town well before midnight and put his horse up at the livery, telling the liveryman the animal might be there a few days and to take good care of it and his saddle and bridle. He made sure of this by pressing a gold piece into the man’s palm. Then he went to the jail, where he was lucky enough to find Sheriff Gus Campbell in his office, just preparing to go home.

  The sheriff and the turnkey both looked at him in surprise.

  “Sit down, Sheriff,” said Bannister, business-like, signaling him to send the turnkey out. When the man had left the office, Bannister tossed his gun on the table. “Arrest me,” he said curtly.

  “What for?” asked the astonished official. “You figure you’re through out there?”

  “No.” Bannister shook his head. “I’m just beginning. I want you to arrest me on the charge of shooting Link that time in Marble. As a matter of fact, I did shoot him.”

  “Huh? He was shooting at you, wasn’t he?” snorted Campbell.

  “Maybe so, maybe not, anyway that’s the charge,” said Bannister. “It’ll do as well as any. Also you have certain suspicions you’re not disclosing to anybody, see? That ties it up better. And you won’t let me go. You propose to keep me in jail just as long as it suits you and you won’t deliver me to any other sheriff, either. Now do you begin to see the point?”

  “No, unless it’s that somebody is after you.” The sheriff scowled.

  “You’ve rung the bell” Bannister smiled. “Cromer went down to Big Falls to see Wills. His calling card was a Reward notice for my scalp. I look for ’em to come up here to get me. They may go to the ranch first, but I expect them to come here. Well, you’ll refuse to give me up. And you better say I’m suspected of being implicated in the bank robbery up there … you have Cromer’s own argument to use. Anyway, you don’t let me out. And you see that the word is spread around that I’m grabbed. See that it gets to Marble if you have to send Van Note up there to holler the news in the street. From now on, Sheriff Campbell, you and I work together.”

  “Just so,” said Campbell dubiously, “and what’s going to be the big result of all this?”

  “A clean-up,” Bannister declared. “Now I’m going to tell you something. No more secrets. Le Beck was with the men who robbed the bank. And he and Hayes were with the two Canadians I had trouble with just before the storm. I think Hayes was mixed up in it, too. Then the man who stole my horse in the badlands was there. That connects the bank robbery with the rustlers, I believe. And I think Hayes is engineering the cattle thefts. His pal, Link, came back to his old job. I asked Miss Marble to give it to him so we could watch him, for I believe he is the one who helps sneak the cattle ou
t of the Half Diamond herds from the inside. If that bunch hears I’m in jail, they’ll get busy. But I’ll get out of jail and they won’t know it. That’ll be between you and me. Later you can say I escaped, or something like that, if you want to. I don’t think it’ll be necessary. And after Cromer and Wills have been unsuccessful in getting me out of here, and Hayes and the others think I’m here, I’ll be down there in the river breaks with a friend of mine who blew into Marble for the celebration, watching. And I’d bet my last white chip that I’ll get ’em all.”

  The sheriff’s interest had become more and more apparent as Bannister talked. Now he asked questions, and they began to plan on an elaborate scale. It was long after midnight, in the wee hours of the morning, when Sheriff Campbell locked Bannister in a cell and went home with a look of satisfaction on his face.

  Sheriff John Wills and Cromer arrived in Prairie City on the stage at noon. They proceeded directly to Sheriff Campbell’s office. Campbell was there, expecting them.

  “Hallo,” he said heartily, rising from his chair. “How are you, Wills? Cromer, I believe you had the right hunch about that fellow Bannister.”

  “I knew I did,” said Cromer, his eyes lighting. “He’s a gunman and an outlaw. I knew it from the first. Sheriff Wills knows it, too, and he’s up here to get him.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Campbell, smiling. “I’ve already got him.”

  Sheriff Wills appeared to sigh with relief. “That saves me a lot of trouble,” he said. “You got him locked up?”

  “Sure have,” said Campbell. “Hard an’ fast, with the turnkey watching him like a hawk. Got three charges against him . . . shooting that fellow from the Half Diamond named Link, taking part in the bank robbery, and general suspicion.”

  “I suppose you know who he is,” drawled Wills.

  “Calls himself Bannister,” said Campbell, “but that probably isn’t his right name. I don’t care what his right name is. I reckon I’ve got the goods on him just the same.”