Ralph Compton Ride the Hard Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “I can do it again if you want,” Lin said, training the Winchester on the man’s face. “It is up to you.”

  “Griggs,” the man spat. “My name is Griggs.”

  Lin played a hunch. He had a feeling he had seen the man before. “You ride for Seth Montfort. You are one of his gun sharks.”

  Griggs hesitated, but only for a few seconds. “Yes. I came up with a bunch from Laramie.”

  Lin stepped back in case the man tried to jump him. “How long have you been hiring out your gun?”

  “What difference does that make?” Griggs angrily asked, but then he answered, “About ten years.”

  “Killed a lot of people in that time, have you?”

  Griggs glared.

  “You have been coming here night after night for a while now,” Lin said. “Suppose you tell me why.” When Griggs did not respond, Lin wagged the Winchester. “Is it worth losing teeth?”

  “Damn you,” Griggs said. “No, it is not. I will take a slug if I have to, but I will not be beat on. Not for the money Montfort is paying.”

  “I am waiting,” Lin said.

  Griggs rubbed his knee and said in disgust, “I am here because of the woman.”

  “You are interested in Mrs. Cather?”

  “Not me, you idiot. Seth Montfort. He is powerful fond of her. Although what he sees in her, I will never know. I have seen prettier fillies.”

  “I work for her,” Lin said. “Insult her again and you will take that slug.”

  “You are full of threats,” Griggs declared.

  “If you think I am a bluff, say so and I will prove otherwise.”

  Griggs glared, then shook his head. “No, thank you. We have learned a little about you and that brother of yours, and Montfort sent a man to Cheyenne to learn more.”

  “Explain,” Lin said.

  “It was Stone. When we met you the other day, he got the notion he had heard of you two. Your first names, anyway. He was in Cheyenne a while back and he heard about two brothers who shot a banker and some others.” Griggs looked at Lin and chuckled. “If it is you, you are as stupid as sin.”

  “Some bankers deserve to be shot.”

  “Not that, lunkhead. When we ran into you, you gave your real first names. You only made up a last name. The smart thing to do is to make up both. I have been on the run. I know.”

  Lin couldn’t have given Montfort a whole new name, not with Etta June there. He had already told her his real first name. “Tell me more about you sneaking around like a thief in the night.”

  “I am no thief,” Griggs bristled. “I am camped in a wash off to the south. My orders are to keep an eye on you and report to Montfort if you dally with Mrs. Cather.”

  Lin’s surprise must have shown.

  “Why do you look so shocked? Seth Montfort has his sights on her. If you were to ask me, I would say he wants her land more than he really wants her, but that is his business. The important thing is that he will not let anyone stand in his way of claiming her, or her land, for his own.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Lin said.

  “You will be dead if you are not careful,” Griggs told him. “Montfort has me come in close to the house each night to make sure you are not sleeping in Mrs. Cather’s bed.”

  “I wish he was here now and not you,” Lin said.

  Griggs flexed a leg. “So, what now, big man? Do you make worm food of me or let me go?”

  “How worthless is your word?” Lin asked.

  “That is a hell of a thing to say to a man. I may hire my six-shooter out, but I have my scruples. When I give my word I keep it.”

  “Then give me yours that if I let you leave you will get on your horse and leave the Big Horns and never come back.”

  “You have it.”

  Lin did not believe him. Every instinct he had told him the man was lying. But he stepped aside and motioned. “Off you go. Don’t stop at the Bar M on your way to wherever. Let Montfort go on thinking you are spying on us.”

  “Sure, mister, sure.” Griggs stood and took a tentative step, wincing as he put his weight on the leg Lin had kicked. He stopped and glanced at the Colt wedged under Lin’s belt. “What about my pistol?”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  “You intend to keep it?”

  “I don’t intend to give it back.”

  Griggs colored and clenched his fists. “I have given my word I will leave the country. But I will not leave without my smoke wagon.”

  Lin was more amused than annoyed. “I would not argue, were I you.”

  “I mean it,” Griggs said. “I have had that revolver almost as long as I have been in the gun-for-hire trade, and I am mighty attached to it.”

  “Buy another,” Lin said.

  Griggs glowered, his jaw twitching. His fists opened and closed.

  For a few moments Lin expected him to pounce. To discourage him, Lin raised the Winchester to his shoulder.

  “Scat while you can.”

  Uttering an oath, Griggs limped to the door. He paused to glare and snarl, “You have a reckoning coming.” With that, he melted into the dark.

  Lin went out. He pushed on the door to close it, then realized he had neglected to put out the lantern. Suddenly he heard a soft sound so close it had to be Griggs sneaking up on him. He whirled, primed to shoot. The person about to reach out to him froze. “You!” he blurted.

  “Me,” Etta June said. She had a purple robe on over a yellow nightdress, and was holding a rifle.

  “What are you doing here?” Lin had hoped to avoid involving her. She had enough on her mind without this.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Etta June said. “I thought I heard something and looked out my window. I saw you drag that man into the stable.”

  “So you have been out here the whole time listening?”

  “The nerve of Seth Montfort, sending someone to spy on me.” Etta June said. “I mean to go to the Bar M tomorrow and have words with him.”

  Lin did not intend to insult her, but he said without thinking, “Is that smart? Rile Montfort and there is no telling what he will do.”

  Etta June pulled at the belt to her robe. “I cannot allow this to pass. There is a line that should not be crossed, and he has crossed it.”

  “What of Tom Jr. and Beth?”

  “They are old enough to fend for themselves, but I will count on you to look in on them,” Etta June said. “I should not be gone more than five days at the most.”

  “That is not what I meant,” Lin said. “What if something happens to you? How will they get by?”

  “Seth acts like he owns me. I must set him straight.”

  “Let me go,” Lin said.

  “What?”

  “I ride for you. Send me with your message.”

  Etta June shook her head. “I appreciate the offer. But this is personal. It is me he has wronged.”

  “You have only been back from Mason a few days,” Lin pointed out. “Why leave your kids alone again when you don’t have to?”

  Etta June stared, her eyes mired in shadow. At last she said, “That is not why you want to go in my stead, is it?”

  Lin did not say anything.

  “You are asking for grief. Seth would not dare lay a finger on me, but he will have no qualms about roughing you up.”

  “He is welcome to try.”

  “It is kind of you to offer, but if something were to happen to you it would be on my shoulders.”

  “Better me than you,” Lin said with more heat than he intended.

  “Oh.” Etta June averted her face. “Oh,” she said again, more softly.

  Lin waited. He hoped he had not overstepped himself. The seconds crawled into a minute and he could not keep quiet. “I am sorry if I shamed you.”

  “You haven’t,” Etta June said. “Quite the contrary.”

  Now it was Lin who said, “Oh.”

  Somewhere in the night a coyote yipped and was answered by another. A moth flew into the ring o
f lantern light and fluttered about them. A horse nickered in the stable.

  “It is a fine night,” Etta June said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I am a bit scared.”

  “So am I,” Lin admitted.

  “It is so unexpected,” Etta June said. “And it has only been a year. Part of me thinks it can’t be proper, but another part thinks a year is plenty long enough.”

  “It is your decision.”

  Etta June turned. “If you go to Montfort on my behalf, it will be the same as—” She stopped.

  “I am in your employ,” Lin said.

  “That is not the same and we both know it. Seth Montfort will know it too.” Etta June put a hand to her forehead. “What has gotten into me? Into us?”

  “It would go better if I weren’t so tongue-tied.”

  Etta June shifted her hand to his arm. “I fear what he might do to you. I would rather die than have you harmed.”

  A lump formed in Lin’s throat and he had to cough to clear it. “I am not a babe in the woods. Fact is, Etta June, I am worse than Seth Montfort in one regard.” To his knowledge, Seth Montfort had never killed.

  “What regard is that?”

  Lin could not make his tongue move.

  “Do me a favor. Take your brother along. I will feel a little easier if it’s both of you.”

  “Not Chancy,” Lin said. “He should stay with the roundup and be close if you need him.”

  “If you think that best.”

  “I do.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “Daybreak.”

  “I will feed you before you go.” Etta June held out her hand. “Good night, then. When you get back, come see me first thing.”

  Lin held her small hand in his big one. “I do this of my own free will, so don’t lose any sleep over it.”

  “Be careful, Lin Gray,” Etta June cautioned.

  Lin Bryce winced.

  Chapter 14

  Cattle, cattle, everywhere.

  Lin had never seen so many cattle in his life. The Bar M range was a sea of horns and tails. Seth Montfort’s ranch was bursting at the seams. It was easy to see why Montfort needed more land.

  Punchers were plentiful too. Lin spied them in groups and riding singly, but always at a distance. Evidently they mistook him for one of their own, because no one challenged his being there.

  That night he camped in a dry wash and kept his fire small. The next morning at first light he was under way again. He had ridden about an hour when three punchers appeared to the east. They were moving a small bunch of cows toward a large herd, but when they spotted him, two of them broke away and came toward him at a gallop.

  Lin had been expecting this. But he did not draw rein. He continued in the direction Etta June had said he must go.

  The hands swept down on him like a pair of ravens on a nestling. One had peach fuzz on his chin, he was so young. The other puncher was a seasoned veteran with the rawhide skin to prove it.

  “Hold on there, mister!”

  Lin did no such thing. He smiled and held up his free hand and continued on. Within moments the punchers were on either side of him.

  The oldest had his hand on his revolver, but he took it off when he saw that Lin was not wearing a six-gun. “Didn’t you hear me?” he demanded.

  “Heard you just fine.”

  “Then why didn’t you stop?”

  “I have a message to deliver to your boss from my boss and I can’t be all year at it.”

  The young hand piped up with, “Who might your boss be?” He had red hair to go with his peach fuzz.

  “Etta June Cather,” Lin said.

  “What is the message?” the older hand asked.

  “That is for Seth Montfort’s ears and only his ears,” Lin said. “I have my orders.”

  The older man scratched his grizzled chin. “Mr. Montfort doesn’t like strangers on his spread. But since you ride for the EJ, and he is fond of your boss, we will let you pass.”

  “I am obliged,” Lin said.

  “We will escort you in,” the older man said. “Just so you don’t get lost, you understand.”

  “You are loyal to the brand.”

  “Loyal as hell,” the older man said. “I am Wiley, by the way. My green pard there is Andy.”

  “Who the hell are you calling green?” Andy immediately demanded.

  Wiley chuckled. “As you can see, he is a rooster on the peck. I was too, at his age, but I learned better.”

  “We all do,” Lin said. He liked this one. It was a shame they had to be enemies. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “So long as it is not about my former wife or that time I got drunk in Denver, you may ask what you please,” Wiley replied.

  “I reckon you have heard what your boss claims about the Dixon family and Aven Magill,” Lin said.

  Wiley’s grin evaporated. “I have.”

  “And you are aware of all the gun sharks your boss has hired of late and what he intends to do with them.”

  “I am.”

  “My question, then, is this.” Lin paused. “Where do the punchers stand? When the lead starts to fly, will they add to the swarm?”

  “You already have your answer. You said it yourself. We are loyal to the brand.”

  “Even when the brand you are loyal to might be in the wrong?”

  Andy had a short temper to go with his red hair. “I will not listen to talk like that, mister. Insult the Bar M and you had better jerk your iron.”

  “He isn’t wearing one,” Wiley said, and looked at Lin. “I didn’t catch your handle.”

  Lin told the lie.

  “Well, Lin. I can tell a gent who has worked cows when I see one, so as one cow-savvy hand to another, and speaking for the rest of the Bar M punchers, I will say that if a shooting war breaks out, we will do our share.”

  “That is too bad,” Lin said.

  “What are you upset about?” Andy demanded. “Mr. Montfort hasn’t accused your boss of helping herself to our cows. It is the Dixons and Magill who must answer for their deeds.”

  “They are her friends,” Lin said.

  “They will be mounds of dirt if they don’t light a shuck,” Andy boasted. “Mr. Montfort does not make idle threats.”

  After that little was said until they arrived. The Bar M had every building the EJ did, only bigger and painted white, plus a dozen more. It looked like a small town. A number of trees and a tilled patch for vegetables provided a splash of green among the white. Punchers were busy at a variety of jobs. The blacksmith was at his forge, his hammer ringing sharply. A portly man in a white apron came out of the cookhouse and watched them ride by.

  The house was big enough to accommodate half of Mason. Glass panes testified to the Bar M’s affluence.

  Lin drew rein at a hitch rail in front of a wide porch. He did not dismount.

  “I will get the big sugar,” Wiley said, and swung down. Spurs jangling, he went up the steps and knocked on the door. A servant in a white uniform answered, then hurried off.

  Andy was giving Lin a closer scrutiny. “I heard Stone talk about you and your brother,” he mentioned. “Something to do with bucking a few gents out in gore. Is that true?”

  “You will find out soon enough,” Lin said. “Your boss sent a man to Cheyenne to find out.”

  “Stone has a reputation too,” Andy said. “They say he has shot eight men. He is a Texan,” he added, as if that explained everything.

  Wiley leaned on a porch post and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Have you ever seen a finer spread?” he asked with an appreciative nod at the hustle and bustle around them.

  “I have not,” Lin admitted.

  “Is it any wonder we are loyal? Mr. Montfort has only the best. The food we eat here is fit for a restaurant. And the bunkhouse has rugs on the floor and an indoor sink.”

  “Now I have heard everything.”

  Wiley chortled. “We are paid better than most too.
If you ever get tired of the EJ, you might apply here. Openings do not come along often, but they are worth the wait.”

  The door opened and out strode Seth Montfort. He was without his bowler and suit jacket. Striding to the edge of the porch, he put his hands on his hips. “Mr. Gray, isn’t it? My butler told me you have a message from Etta June.”

  “You have a butler?”

  “The message,” Montfort said. “I am a busy man.”

  Lin leaned on his saddle horn. “Very well. I will give it to you straight. Mrs. Cather will not be spied on. She says that the next time you send someone to watch her comings and goings, she will ride over here with a shotgun.”

  “She threatened me?”

  “I will ride over with her,” Lin said.

  Montfort lowered his arms. “From her I will take abuse, but not from a saddle tramp. You will watch your tongue or I will have you horsewhipped.”

  “You are welcome to try.”

  Glancing at Lin’s waist, Montfort sneered, “Hell, you are not even wearing a gun. If you will not go around heeled, you should not put on airs.”

  Andy laughed.

  “You are not heeled,” Lin told Montfort, “and you put on airs.”

  “Here, now,” Seth Montfort growled.

  “There is more to the message,” Lin said. “Do you want to hear it?”

  Montfort curtly nodded.

  “I will give it to you straight,” Lin said. “You are no longer welcome on the EJ. Should you or any of your hands be found anywhere on EJ range, you will be asked to leave.”

  “And if we don’t?” Montfort gestured in contempt. “Will you and that hotheaded brother of yours make war on the Bar M all by your lonesome? I don’t know why Mr. Stone thought you might be a thorn in my side. You are nothing but a mouth without a brain. You are a nuisance, and I damned well do not like nuisances.”

  Lin lifted his reins. “I have given you her message. You would be wise to heed it.” He wheeled the buttermilk and started off, but he had gone only a few yards when the air swished and a loop settled over his head and shoulders. He grabbed at it, and the next instant was violently wrenched from the saddle. He landed hard on his back in the grass. Incensed, he went to rise but saw Wiley holding a revolver on him.

  Andy had done the roping and was beaming.