by Alan David
‘I’m right sorry for you, Stella,’ Gruber said. ‘Your Pa was a good man. He warned all of us that this was coming.’ Gruber uttered a long shuddering sigh. ‘I don’t know what will happen now. I kept Ridge’s men under control pretty well here in Pommel. But they’ll take some holding now. What are your plans, Johnson?’
‘I’d much rather know what you’re going to do, sheriff. You’ve got evidence that this Reuben Ridge, whoever he is, has let his riders commit murder. Why don’t you get out a warrant for his arrest and send a posse for him?’
Gruber sighed again. Then he laughed uneasily. ‘It ain’t as simple as it seems, Johnson. Despite the fact that Pommel has half a sheriff and two deputies, it hasn’t got much in the way of Law. This town is mostly quiet, but the law doesn’t stretch much outside the town limits, especially in the direction of Big R range.’
‘That means one of two things, to my way of reckoning,’ Lobo said tensely. ‘Either everyone is afraid of Ridge, or else the sheriff and his office are sitting in the big man’s saddle bag.’
Gruber glanced down at his useless legs. His right hand fondled the butt of his Colt on the chair. He smiled wrily.
‘Johnson, this law office ain’t in the pay of anyone, except the town council. I’m not sitting in this chair because I’m tired. A bushwhacker’s bullet did this to me, and like it as not the bullet came from a gun Ridge had hired.’
‘I guess that means every one in this backwoods is afraid of Reuben Ridge, eh?’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Gruber agreed. ‘Most of the men who should do something about Ridge are married, with kids at home. They won’t take a chance of being killed while Ridge holds off them.’
‘Well Ridge has finished holding off, it seems,’ Lobo said softly. ‘So what happens now?’
‘You’d better get out of town,’ Gruber said. ‘There are always some Big R riders in Pommel, and if they hear what’s happened to the six outside your life won’t be worth a plugged nickel.’
‘I’ll take a chance on that,’ said Lobo. ‘It ain’t against the law in this town to kill in self defence, is it?’
‘Not when you’re shooting Ridge’s gunnies,’ Gruber replied. ‘Do you plan on staying in Pommel?’
‘I do. I want to see Reuben Ridge stretching a rope for what happened out at the Stadden place today. If he wasn’t there personally, he gave the orders, and if he doesn’t hang I’ll go out and gut shoot him.’
‘You must be mighty handy with shooting irons, Johnson. With all this trouble blowing up in my face and being unable to get about as well as I used to, I’m going to need some more help around here. I mean real help. Barr is all right and so is the kid. But I’d like to have a man in my office backing one of my stars who can knock off four Ridge riders when he has to. This trouble has been a long time coming to a head. Looks like you got here just in time. You seem to be a man who likes to live dangerously. How’d you like to work as a deputy? A badge would give you a little protection in town and a lot of authority in the county.’
‘Give me until the morning, sheriff. I’m played out right now, after a hectic day, and I’ve done a lot of travelling in the past week or two. I’ll come looking you up after breakfast in the morning. Now if there’s nothing else you want to know right now I’ll get my cousin Stella into a hotel. She’s had it rough today.’
‘Sure, and you’d better go out the back way. If I were you I’d keep out of sight until morning. If those Big R riders come looking for you—’
‘I can give a good account of myself,’ Lobo said. ‘Come on, Stella.’
Lobo went forward and helped the girl to her feet. Stella swayed against him. He put a long arm around her shoulders and supported her. Gruber wheeled his chair about and propelled himself to the door leading to the cells. He opened it.
‘This way,’ he ordered. ‘The less people who know you by sight as the hombre who stopped four Big R men the better. If I were you I’d go into Minnie Castle’s hotel by the back way. You know the way, Stella. And come and see me in the morning, Johnson.’
‘I’ll do that, sheriff. Thanks.’
Installing Stella into the hotel and hiring an adjoining room was soon done. Lobo stripped, washed and dressed himself in a clean black shirt and black pants. He cleaned his Colt meticulously before going to Stella’s room and knocking at the door.
‘Let’s go down and eat,’ he suggested. ‘You want some diversion to take your mind off what’s happened today.’
‘Do you think it’s wise, Ben? Don’t push your luck too far.’
‘I’m not pushing anything.’ He grinned. ‘You know this man Reuben Ridge?’
‘I’ve seen him lots of times. But I don’t know him. No one round here does. He seldom leaves his range now, and when he does he’s surrounded by a dozen gunhawks. He has been into Pommel ... but he’s anti-social. He doesn’t like people, and he tries to order the townspeople about when he’s here. He says the town is built on his land, and that he owns it and the folk living in it. He could at that, I guess. He owns just about everything else around here.’
‘It sounds as if he’s had his own way too long.’ Lobo hitched up his sagging gun belt. ‘But his luck is likely to change soon. Come on, let’s go and eat.’
Lobo took the girl to a restaurant, and all around them as they ate they could hear the buzz of excited conversation. The story of the six dead gunmen was on every tongue, and Lobo was astounded by the many different tales going around. He was alert and tense despite his easy manner, and could sense an undercurrent of fear throbbing through these townsfolk. It affected all of them, and was so strong and apparent, Lobo could almost taste it.
The restaurant was nearly empty when the street door opened and there entered a small, oldish man dressed in city clothes. The newcomer paused on the threshold, looked around carefully, then threaded his way through the tables until he stood beside Stella.
‘Hello, Stella,’ he greeted, his sharp brown eyes studying Lobo while he spoke to the girl. ‘Is this the cousin from Idaho?’
‘You spoken with the sheriff?’ Lobo queried.
‘Yeah. I’m Hank Swamey, a newspaperman, and you’ve provided me with the biggest news item in weeks.’
‘Well, stick around and maybe you’ll get some more,’ Lobo said. ‘I don’t see why a big rancher should get away with murder, or anything else for that matter, just because he owns just about half of God’s creation. This Reuben Ridge has got to be slapped down.’
‘He’ll take some slapping,’ said Swamey. ‘But it could be done. How about filling me in with a few details of your background? I want to do a good piece on you in tomorrow’s edition. I’d like to have a photograph for the front page. There are so few public-spirited citizens in Pommel that when I come across one I go all out to make him an example for the other folk to follow. But it’s no dice. I’ve had no luck so far.’
‘No pictures of me,’ Lobo said. ‘These Big R riders will get on my tail soon enough, without you presenting them with a face of me on your front page. I’m going to have a very tough fight on my hands when Ridge gets around to trying to slap me down.’
‘I admire your nerve,’ said Swamey. ‘Do you plan on staying long in Pommel?’
‘That depends upon Ridge, doesn’t it? We haven’t made any plans yet, that’s certain. Ridge has pulled down Stadden fences and run Stadden cattle with his own. The law should have something to say about that.’
‘Not much hope of that,’ the newspaperman retorted. ‘And there’s no such thing as public opinion in Pommel. Ridge’s town riders see to that. Men get waylaid and beaten up if they say too much about the activities of Reuben Ridge. My office has been wrecked a couple of times when I’ve laid it on too strong for Ridge stomachs. You’d best be on your guard, Johnson, or you’ll finish up providing a lot of work for the Doc.’
‘I’ll kill anyone who tries to lay a hand on me,’ Lobo said, his eyes glinting. He set his jaw pugnaciously. ‘I don’t eve
n take kindly to threats.’
‘Well I hope to see you around some,’ said Swamey. ‘Good luck to you, Johnson.’
The newspaperman turned away. He was halfway to the door when two cowboys walked in. The newcomers paused in the doorway, their eyes flickering over the diners. One recognised Stella. Lobo saw it in the man’s face, and as the man nudged his companion, Lobo eased himself forward in his seat. Swamey turned and walked back to Lobo’s table. Lobo admired the newspaperman’s nerve, for Swamey was not wearing a gunbelt. Most of the diners present must have recognised the two gunmen, because chairs clattered and meals were hurriedly left.
‘Ridge’s men. Be careful,’ Swamey warned needlessly.
‘Take Stella out of here,’ Lobo ordered. ‘See her safely back to the hotel, Swamey.’
Lobo got to his feet and moved swiftly sideways to put the still seated Stella out of the line of fire.
‘Hold it there, mister,’ called one of the approaching gunmen.
Lobo stood still. His right hand was relaxed at his side. He watched the two men closely. Two hired killers, he thought bleakly. Well, he knew how to deal with them.
‘I figger you’re Johnson, who killed those six Ridge riders today,’ said one of the two.
‘That’s me,’ Lobo agreed. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘You’re a stranger in Pommel, ain’t you?’
‘I’m a stranger wherever I stop,’ Lobo replied. ‘You’re Ridge riders, I guess, and now you want satisfaction for your saddle pards. Well let me tell you something. I’ve killed five men today. That’s enough for any man. If you want satisfaction I’ll be on Main Street at dawn.’
‘I ain’t waiting for dawn,’ ejaculated one of the men.
‘By God, you killed five of my pards, and you’re not living through the night.’
Lobo studied the man. He was young, in his twenties. His eyes were blazing in his unshaven face. He was wearing two guns, and his hands trembled in fury over the smooth butts of the weapons. Lobo sighed.
‘Make your play then,’ he said bitterly. ‘Maybe you’ll be lucky.’ He splayed the fingers of his gunhand, backed off a step, and waited for the showdown.
The two gunmen moved apart.
‘Hold it right there,’ Lobo snapped, his hand hovering. ‘Another step between you and I’ll start shooting.’
The men stopped. The one who had done the talking was working the fingers of his hands. A set smile came to his face, and Lobo noticed how the man’s teeth showed up startlingly white in his black stubble. For a second all movement was stilled in the dining-room. Even the diners, now lining the walls out of the way, appeared to be frozen.
Lobo waited immobile as a statue. He breathed easily through his set teeth, his eyes unblinking, an undefinable tension knitting his apparently relaxed attitude. He sagged his right shoulder a little. Sounds faded from his ears as he concentrated upon his adversaries.
‘Curse you,’ yelled the man who couldn’t wait until dawn, and his hands flashed to his twin weapons.
Lobo’s teeth snapped shut and his lips firmed. His right hand moved in a blur of speed. His Colt leaped into his hand so fast that no eye could follow the movement. He triggered a single shot before his opponent’s weapons cleared leather. Lobo swung the muzzle of his gun, but the other gunman had not moved. Lobo’s eyes fleeted back to the other.
For an instant the gunman stood as if transfixed by the bullet that smacked into his heart. Both his elbows were bent, his nerveless fingers holding his long barrelled Colts half clear of his holsters. Then he bent a little and sagged, and sprawled forward to flop heavily upon his face.
The echoes of the deafening shot faded and silence closed in. No one moved. Then Hank Swamey cleared his throat and spoke, and the tension dissolved.
‘That makes six,’ Swamey declared. ‘Six coyotes today. Do the same every day for a week, Johnson, and Ridge will be the only gunman left on the Big R.’
Lobo did not take his eyes off the remaining gunman, who stood staring at the body of his dead companion.
‘What are you going to do?’ Lobo asked, holding his Colt with the muzzle pointing to the ground. His cold eyes bored into the shocked eyes of the Ridge rider.
‘I ain’t got orders to tangle with you,’ the man blustered, gulping. ‘I don’t want no trouble.’
‘You’ve got some sense,’ said Hank Swamey, moving towards the door. ‘I’ll inform the sheriff’s office as I pass, Johnson. Keep up the good work. Perhaps your habit of killing Ridge men will prove infectious.’
The newspaperman went out. He left the door open and Barr, the big deputy, came in. He relieved the surviving Ridge rider of his weapon, then turned to the body on the floor.
‘Is he dead?’ Barr asked.
‘I always shoot to kill,’ Lobo said grimly. ‘I don’t draw unless I think a man is worth killing. That feller,’ he indicated the body, ‘looked a cold-blooded killer to me.’
Barr nodded briefly.
‘What happened?’ he demanded.
Lobo told him. The big deputy pushed out his bottom lip.
‘You could bring a lot of grief to this town, Johnson,’ he said. ‘Reuben Ridge ain’t going to like this.’
‘The town should be able to take care of itself. I reckon, too, that Ridge has done a lot of things that the people of this town don’t like. This kind of evens up the score.’
Chapter Four
POMMEL CAME AWAKE early the following morning. The name Ben Johnson was on everyone’s lips. Men thronged the sidewalks and congregated outside the jail in the hope of seeing the gunslinger who had done more in one day to curb Reuben Ridge than the sheriff and his deputies had accomplished in a year. Little knots of excitedly talking men were formed in front of stores and saloons.
Lobo took Stella to breakfast in the warming rays of the climbing sun. This morning he was wearing two guns, having cleaned and oiled the second weapon he always carried but seldom wore. He was worried about Stella, he reflected, as he sat and watched her picking at her food.
‘What are we going to do with you?’ he asked suddenly.
‘What do you mean?’ She looked up from her plate.
‘I’m joining the law band of this town,’ he told her. ‘I think, considering the odds against me, that I deserve the little protection a badge would give me.’
‘Do you think you should, considering who you are?’
‘Yes. I’ll be working for the Law. I haven’t broken the law for some time. I don’t have to. I made quite a good haul the last job I did.’
‘And what was that?’
‘Herman’s Bank, in Bitter Creek, Kansas. I’ve got enough dough by me now to set myself firmly upon the straight trail.’
‘It shouldn’t be done like that,’ Stella told him. ‘You should be humble and empty-handed, repentant. With your pockets stuffed with stolen money, how can you hope to turn into an honest man?’
‘Well, I found it’s best to make yourself as comfortable as possible in any situation. If I was broke and couldn’t get a job I’d soon drift back into crime. But if I can afford to take it easy I wouldn’t be tempted to stray again.’
‘That ain’t the point, Ben,’ she said quickly in exasperation, and he smiled. ‘Oh, what’s the use? What is it you wish me to do while you’re killing your six Ridge riders a day?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps you’d be safer squatting here in town. Good thing I’ve got all this money. You wouldn’t be so comfortable having to scrub clothes or something waiting for me to clear out this nest of killers.’
‘I don’t want to use any of your tainted money,’ she flashed.
‘I won’t take no for an answer. If you’re finished we’ll get going. I promised to see the sheriff this morning.’
They left the restaurant followed by the curious gazes of the other early eaters. Lobo, as he escorted Stella along the sidewalk, felt the pulse of the town and judged that his actions the previous day had fired the more resolute of the townsme
n into a positive frame of mind. He smiled.
At the Bank Lobo arranged his financial business. Then he took Stella back to the hotel, leaving her protesting at the entrance.
‘Look,’ he told her. ‘I’ve got man’s business to attend to. Stay here out of the way. If Sheriff Gruber can ever get Ridge into a court you’d be a material witness for the prosecution. Ridge knows that, and he would have you put out of the way without thinking twice about it. It would be his neck or yours. So don’t forget it.’
‘I know Reuben Ridge better than you, Ben,’ Stella told him. ‘He’s ruthless. When he learns what you have done, how you’ve smashed his reputation and lowered his prestige here in Pommel, he’ll send ten, twenty gunslicks to get you. You can’t fight an army. You are only one man, even though you are Lobo Johnson.’
‘My name is Ben,’ he corrected her smilingly. ‘Forget the Lobo part. You christened me Ben yesterday, so let it stick. If anyone in this town heard you call me Lobo I’d be in jail today and strung up tomorrow. I’m your cousin Ben from Idaho.’
‘I’m pleased to see you, Cousin Ben.’ Her breath caught in her throat. ‘I don’t know what would have happened to me yesterday if you hadn’t come along when you did.’
‘That’s Fate.’ But his smile faded when he thought of what had occurred the previous day. ‘Now I’ve got to get along to the jail. I’ll see you later.’
‘Be careful,’ she called.
In the sheriff’s office Gruber was already at his desk. Barr and Olly were present, and they greeted Lobo respectfully when he entered.
‘You’ve certainly stirred up this town,’ Gruber said. ‘I’ve heard a lot of talk against Ridge this morning. Never known anything like it before.’
‘There ain’t any Ridge riders in town,’ said Barr. ‘It ain’t natural. They’ve all gone home. Ridge has always kept two, three riders in town. But now they’ve gone. It ain’t a good sign, sheriff.’
‘Those men out there making war talk is a good sign to me,’ Gruber said. ‘I’ve waited years for this. Your uncle wouldn’t have died yesterday, Johnson, if his warnings could have stirred this town like your actions have done. Now what about the job I offered you last night? Have you thought about it?’
